I believe it's possible to eat a meal at My Sichuan which doesn't contain either offal or vast quantities of chillis. But you don't want to read about that, do you? You want me to tell you about the intestines, the frogs' legs, the deep blood red of the chillis and the tingling numbing freshness of the sichuan peppercorns.
It strikes me that Chinese regional cuisine - by which I mostly mean Sichuan, because that's mostly what we've got in this country so far - has become the new macho eating out experience. Now that it's no longer socially acceptable to pop into your local Bangladeshi restaurant and order the vindaloo, checking first that it really is "the hottest dish on the menu", the adventurous middle class foodie needs an alternative outlet for their arcane knowledge and desperate need to impress all those around them. See: John Lanchester in the Guardian, drooling over his own "near-psychotic" consumption of chillis at this very restaurant.
But I'll tell you all the same, because this is good food, really really good food, and anyone who cares about flavour, texture, smell, hot, sour, sweet, salty, savoury, and all the rest needs to try this food. There's a good reason to eat this food, like there's a good reason to order a vindaloo (because garlic and vinegar are brilliant ways of cutting through and enhancing the unctuous fat of a pork shoulder), and that's because it will provide you with different experiences to those you can get anywhere else.
Let's start with the "weird" things anyway, to get them out of the way. Dry fried intestines were excellent, as ever (I've ordered them every time I've been here): you could fool yourself into thinking you were eating squid rings if you wanted, although there's a slight farmyard undertone that hangs around even after you've finished eating, a slight reminder that you are eating an animal, not an anonymous chunk of protein. Coated in cornflour and fried ("dry" fried they're not; there's been plenty of hot oil near these babies) till crisp, then mixed with plenty of dried chillis, they are aromatic without being excessively spicy.
The salt and pepper frogs' legs were, for me, probably the disappointment of the meal. Other diners claimed to be able to taste something of the sea in them; to me, they were just slightly watery faux chicken wings. The batter was fine but, for once, the dish was under-spiced, with just a tiny sprinkle of garlic, sichuan peppercorns, and spring onions on top.
The sichuan beef was at the other end of the scale: deeply, warmingly rich with chilli, fermented bean paste and five spice. It's described somewhat obliquely on the menu, but what you get is a bowl of thin, soft slices of beef, with beansprouts and slices of onion, in a broth, with a thick slick of bright chilli oil on top. A slow-burning dish.
I've had it many times elsewhere, and even made it at home, but I'd somehow never ordered the ma po tofu here before. I'm so pleased that has changed: this dish has a spikier heat than the sichuan beef, but some of the same depth of flavour in the sauce. We were unable to convert the tofu-hater at the table, despite our best efforts ("it's like pannacotta, but savoury and covered in chilli oil"), but this is honestly very good tofu, utterly lacking in structural integrity but a brilliant carrier of, and foil to, the spicy sauce.
We ordered two dishes for the non-chilli-fiends at the table, but that's not to say these were mild in flavour terms. The cumin lamb was spectacular (lamb and cumin are both used extensively in the predominantly Muslim north-west of China, where the cuisine is influenced as much by the Indian sub-continent or the middle east as it is by Cantonese traditions), full of dusty citrus notes and the slight smoke of the wok. The other dish was the gong bao chicken, otherwise translated as kung po chicken. This is a sweet dish, the closest to those you might get in normal Chinese restaurants, but it's well executed here, with fragrant dried chillis, beautifully soft cubes of chicken, and plenty of crunchy peanuts.
I'd normally always order at least one vegetable dish when eating out at a Chinese, although I'm aware that's not the norm. Those who don't are missing out on the amazing dry fried green beans, stir-fried till browned but still crunchy, with masses of sichuan peppercorns and little nubbles of minced pork. These are easily the best green beans in the world. We also had the brocolli in garlic, which did exactly what it said on the tin, and was also refreshingly non-oily, a pleasant comparison to some of the other dishes we ordered. I was dining with my partner, but those who are not should perhaps avoid this dish. Or eat it anyway, and just avoid your partner for the next few days.
The decor's not much; half the staff don't speak English; on a quiet night the atmosphere is grimly silent. In conclusion, if you give a damn about good food, you must eat here.
Massive thanks to my dining companions Robin (who recommended the frogs' legs and the ma po tofu), Peter, Jillian, Colin, Helen (who doesn't like spicy food, but loved the intestines) and Michael (who wasn't convinced about eating offal, but loved the spice), and to Chris, whose birthday it was and who brought together such a great bunch of people to eat this food.
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