They line up on weekends here for dim sum (also available, with shorter wait times, for weekday lunch), but we much prefer dining here at night. You're greeted by a 1,500-gallon array of tanks filled with fresh fish and shellfish as you enter, but that covers only one page of the 18-page menu. Don't miss the crackling-skinned suckling pig, either a plateful or an entire roast beast (for $190). If you like the ritual of making little sandwiches out of the equally crisp, lacquered skin of Peking duck, they do a textbook version here (spring a little extra to get a side dish of saut?ed minced duck meat in lettuce cups). We've never had a more fragrant drunken chicken, nor sweeter, meatier gailan (Chinese broccoli). And the big, noisy room features a huge draped skylight, a pond full of namesake koi, and a burbling fountain topped by a big tea pot symbolizing the more than a dozen different teas available here.