KUALA LUMPUR, Aug 31 — If you’re anything like me, you probably clicked on this article thinking, “Great, as if we don’t already have enough Sichuan joints popping up all over the city, here’s another one.”
But you’d be wrong. This isn’t some giant chain with hundreds of outlets muscling into Malaysia; it’s one woman, a native of Sichuan province, who came here 10 years ago and started a humble roadside stall along Jalan Palong in Taman Miharja, on the fringes of Maluri in Cheras.
Instead of a slick, high-tech operation with viral dances and QR codes, this is as analogue and tactile as it gets.
China Sichuan Restaurant is a roadside stall, though it is pretty established. — Picture by Ethan Lau
The open-air, zinc-roofed “restaurant” sits at the end of a row of food stalls, wedged between industrial-turned-retail shoplots on one side and apartments on the other.
The chef herself is warm but a little gruff – a diminutive woman with short, greying hair, and instantly recognisable thanks to her bright yellow Wellingtons.
The man taking our order rolls over in his wheelchair, expertly making recommendations without once peeking at the extensive menu, which is mostly Sichuan dishes with a sprinkling of local Malaysian-Chinese dai chow staples. Think mapo tofu next to nam yu chicken wings.
‘Mapo tofu’ with a local flourish: ‘zhu yao char’ or crispy lard croutons. — Picture by Ethan Lau
With Sichuan cuisine’s surge in popularity over the past few years, mapo tofu has become a global fixture, its fiery heat from chillies and numbing kick from Sichuan peppercorns emblematic of the region’s cooking.
The mapo tofu here (RM25) comes with a distinctly Malaysian twist: for an extra RM5, it can be topped with zhu yao zhar, crispy lard croutons that are a uniquely Malaysian–Singaporean invention.
But be warned, this is not for the faint of heart. Even at the medium level of spice, the peppercorns latch onto your tongue and refuse to let go, leaving your palate tingling with a delirious buzz.
The mix of chilli heat, savoury bean paste and numbing peppercorns is a knockout, though it may push some past their limit.
Rice is not optional. It is essential.
A great rendition of a Sichuan classic, twice-cooked pork. — Picture by Ethan Lau
Less explosively fiery and numbing, but no less bold, are two other iconic Sichuan dishes: hui guo rou, or twice-cooked pork (RM36), and la zi ji (RM48).
The former is my favourite in the entire Sichuan canon, and in my experience, the least “explicitly” spicy.
Pork belly is typically simmered with aromatics like ginger and star anise, then sliced to near translucence and stir-fried with garlic sprouts, bell peppers, onions and scallions.
Baby leeks are a common substitute for the sprouts, as seen here, and the pork belly is sliced so thin it almost melts on your tongue.
Best of all is the pool of red oil that gathers at the bottom of the plate. I could happily sit with that and a bowl of rice all night long.
Despite the chillies, ‘la zi ji’ is more about the building tingling sensation, and less about fiery heat. — Picture by Ethan Lau
The latter, la zi ji, is not quite as fiery as its mountain of dried chillies might suggest.
Instead, the little bites of boneless chicken are a masterclass in the art of the slow burn, the tingling building gradually but never quite tipping over the edge – until you accidentally bite into a peppercorn.
But who am I kidding? You’re a thrill-seeker, a spice junkie, you like it hot, so hot you see stars and speak in tongues.
You’re here for the real thing, the big guns. So order the shui zhu niu rou, Sichuan boiled beef (RM39), a hulking bowl of red.
This puts the fire in firepower; it’s so striking, so incendiary, it’s hard to tell where oil ends and broth begins.
Thin slices of poached, velveted beef are drenched in a mixture of chillies, peppercorns, garlic and pickled mustard greens for a surprising bit of depth.
Beneath the beef lies a bed of large, crunchy bean sprouts, specimens that look nothing like the variety we have here, and these soak up every bit of that explosive spice.
Eating this at the end of a meal feels like hitting the guitar solo on “Free Bird.”
After the slow, plodding build-up, it roars into overdrive with a chaotic crescendo, a one-way ticket to a spice high.
Then it’s time for a big swig of whatever soda you have on hand, which you should absolutely order.
Midway through their meal, the next table ordered six Cokes. For a party of three.
Your doctor be damned – tonight, high-fructose corn syrup is your lord and saviour.
China Sichuan Restaurant 四川功夫菜
8, Jalan Palong,
Taman Miharja, Lumpur.
Open Tuesday to Sunday, 6am-3pm (morning noodle menu), 3-10pm (dinner menu)
Tel: 012-200 6916
Facebook: 四川江湖菜 China Sichuan Restaurant
* This is an independent review where the writer paid for the meal.
* Follow us on Instagram @eatdrinkmm for more food gems.
* Follow Ethan Lau on Instagram @eatenlau for more musings on food and self-deprecating attempts at humour.
