So enchanted am I by this unassuming little hole-in-the-wall restaurant tucked into the heart of Minneapolis's Dinkytown neighborhood, I drag my family there every Easter Sunday. It's THAT SPECIAL. I dine there quite frequently, but Easter is my official "I'm-still-burnt-out-from-Thanksgiving-and-Christmas-so-I-refuse-to-cook" holiday, and I insist on Shuang Cheng.
Under normal circumstances, when a restaurant has roughly two thousand menu items, none of them are done very well. But Shuang Cheng defies logic. I'm guessing underneath the restaurant they have an enormous, football field-sized cavern, full of chefs, each specializing in one dish. That's just an educated guess.
Now then. On to the food. The Mongolian Beef? Sublime. The Emperor's Chicken? Divine. Same for the War Bar-- delicate layers of chicken, shrimp and pork, served on a large platter with a special sauce and covered with lightly sautéed vegetables. And though I've never been brave enough to try the roast duck with the head still on, the Chinese family next to me (whom I know are regulars) seems quite pleased with it, and I trust them implicitly. What really gets me going, though, is the SESAME CHICKEN. I know. It's tragically white girl of me, but I just can't get enough of the stuff.
No restaurant is perfect, so I will now mention Shuang Cheng's downfall: the beer. It's terrible. But I forgive them. Choose another beverage. Problem solved.