This is a fucking fire hazard, just like everything on the menu at Sichuanese Cuisine.
Sichuanese Cuisine is not only the name of the restaurant,


Beef So Spicy It Could Kill a Robot

This is a fucking fire hazard, just like everything on the menu at Sichuanese Cuisine.
Sichuanese Cuisine is not only the name of the restaurant, it also describes the food sold there. I thought it was a dumb name at first, like Il Bistro, where the title is too fucking obvious. Then once I started eating I forgot about the name of the place. Sichuanese Cuisine is so good they could've called it Boogers on a Plate and I wouldn't give a shit. That's how delicious it is.

I admit that I'm biased towards Chinese food. Even Panda Express, widely regarded as food that only people who voted for Sarah Palin could put in their mouths with a straight face, has its charm, especially when eaten in an airport, hungover on the first day of your vacation.

But Sichuanese Cuisine is clearly superior. The Green Onion Pancake ($2.95) was fluffy and chewy, with lots of little rings of scallion embedded in the dough. Inferior versions of this classic can be greasy and too dense, like chowing down on a brake pad. This one was great.

Couples beef ($4.50) was so spicy it could kill a robot. Tender shreds of beef were served in a pile, studded with peanuts, swimming in a menacing orange pool of chile oil, with what I at first thought was some sort of soft translucent pasta but actually turned out to be beef tendon. They call this dish "couples beef" because if your date will eat it with you, you should get married immediately. If your date WON'T eat the couples beef, they probably won't swallow jizz, so I think the decision to dump the chump should be fairly obvious.

MaPo ToFu was $6.95, and I'm reproducing the typography directly from the menu. With its unnecessary capital "P" and "F" in the middle, the MaPo ToFu reads like some dumb corporate abbreviation, like WaMu or FedEx. The best thing about this dish is that it seems like it should be a vegetarian dish, but it isn't. Yes, there are lots of soft creamy white cubes of tofu, doused in a sweet and hot orange sauce, but there's also GROUND PORK. That just made my fucking day. Stealth pork: the other invisible meat.

Speaking of pork, I have mixed feelings about the twice cooked pork ($8.95). You get a big platter of braised pork belly, thinly sliced and then presumably sautéed in order to fulfill the menu's promise of cooking the meat twice, with crisp chunks of cabbage and a rich sweet black bean sauce. It's not as spicy as anything else we tried, but that's because the evil chef at Sichuanese Cuisine wants to make sure you can taste the bitter melon. I'd never had bitter melon before. At first glance, it looks like a wrinkled slice of green bell pepper, but it's not. It's herbal and sharply bitter in the finish, like a vegetable version of Fernet Branca. As of this writing I'm still on the fence about whether the bitter melon sucks or not.

Dried cooked string bean ($6.95) was another Chinese classic: string beans sautéed with garlic. This iteration was slightly different in that they cooked it down until the sauce became more like a glaze. The beans were charred and crinkly and smeared in this really intense spicy oily garlic sauce. This is one of those things that even the world's biggest pussy, scared of everything inside a Chinese restaurant, even the Patrick Nagel prints and the Maneki Neko statue, could still safely order without trepidation. If you won't try something as simple as green beans with soy sauce and garlic, I command you to commit suicide right now because you are stupid.

Ants on the Tree ($6.50) has a funny name but it's really just a generic dish of ground pork and diced scallion in limp glass noodles with a spicy sauce. At least you get one metric shitload of this stuff for the price: it's served in a Pyrex baking dish!

Sichuanese Cuisine is awesome. It's cheap and lots of careful preparation goes into each dish. The worst things about this place are these weird sconces with fake roses and vines hanging from them. I'm sure this is a fire hazard. Then again, the food here is so consistently spicy I'm sure everything on the menu constitutes a fire hazard, so who gives a fuck about the shitty décor.

Rating: 8.5 fire hazards out of 10

Sichuanese Cuisine is located at 1048 S Jackson St. For inquiries call 206-720-1690

comments powered by Disqus

Friends to Follow