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2010-12-29
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Sijie Sichuan Dishes has been described as a “private kitchen”, a term which conjures an image in my mind of an intimate, dimly lit, “fine dining” dining room, where the tables are spread with crisp linen tablecloths and the waiters are professional (yet superior) in dealing with their rather elite room of diners, who themselves have an air of smug satisfaction about them for being so crafty as to snare a table for the evening at that particular private kitchen. Sijie Sichuan Dishes is not like
Sijie Sichuan Dishes is not like that.
Exiting the lifts of this building, you find yourself in a hallway lined with doors, none of them looking like they would open up into a private kitchen… With the little Chinese we had between us, my husband identified the Chinese characters for “Sichuan” on a small sign, and it was then we noticed a string of chillies hanging at the door. “This must be it…” we said as we tentatively opened the door and entered the chaos that is Sijie Sichuan Dishes.
In that mad, chaotic way that things tend to happen at Chinese restaurants, we were pointed in the direction of the only table that sat half vacant, and the waitress was right in assuming it must be ours. Having never met the other guests already seated, we were glad she knew what she was doing. When the rest of the group arrived, the Sijie regulars took hold of the paper menu and explained that with our group of eight, that meant we ordered five cold dishes and seven or eight hot dishes from the selection on the menu (which is in both English and Chinese).
You can choose from 14 cold dishes, and for me the standout was the “Sichuan cold noodles”. The noodles are sitting on a bed of Sichuan chilli oil, and were a great starting point to introduce the chilli theme for the night. Although I didn’t try them, a couple of others at the table spoke highly of “Pigs ears with spicy sauce”, which they insisted were very tender. Unable to disassociate these pigs ears from the ones we give to our dog when we want to keep her occupied chewing for hours, I couldn’t bring myself to eat them. However, no-one at the table who did try them had any complaints, so Sijie has obviously got the right technique. The “Spicy and sour eggplant” is very light and has a melt in the mouth texture. Unlike a lot of eggplant dishes, this seemed to have been steamed and was not soaked in oil. It was, however, loaded with garlic!
Now, the hot dishes are where it’s at when you go to Sijie, and you can choose from over 50 of them. One look at the “Poached fish in hot chilli oil” and my mouth (and eyes) were watering. The dish’s name says it all – it is literally fish poached in chilli oil, with hundreds of dried chillies floating on the surface of an enormous bowl, full to the brim. At the bottom of this chilli quagmire lurked a reward worth the burn of the chillies you ate trying to get there: the most texturally superior noodles I have tasted. They were clear, thick and about 40 cm long. I tried to transfer them from the big bowl to my bowl without attracting too much attention, but each time I lifted a noodle from the bowl, it slid back in and splashed hot chilli oil over everything in sight. But when you do finally get a hold of one of these noodles, it is well worth the effort. My favourite dish of the night.
The most memorable part of the night came when the kitchen stopped cooking and we were sitting around contemplating whether we could fit in one of the last “Deep fried chilli shrimps” or “Salt and pepper pork tenderloins”. Sijie (the owner/chef) then came out and walked from table to table, chatting animatedly and challenging each table to a drinking competition. She showed no mercy (or sign of intoxication), and could out-drink everyone in the room!
We were the last table left, and after having a chat, she offered to make us her version of the famous “Dan dan mian” noodles. We were completely stuffed, but couldn’t resist and so off she went to the kitchen, and a few minutes later brought back freshly made “dan dan mian”. I hadn’t tried them before, and at first glance they looked to be quite plain, but then she showed me that you need to stir in the sauce that was hiding underneath the noodles, and they truly were one of the most simple but delicious noodle dishes I have ever eaten. It was all in the sauce, which was a minced up fusion of garlic, chilli and Sichuan peppers with chilli oil and spring onions. Wow.
Five cold dishes, eight hot dishes, and god knows how many Tsing Taos, and the bill came to $250 per person, which for a great night of food and entertainment, was excellent value. It was as much about the experience as it was about the food and I can’t wait to find some chilli-loving friends to take back.
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