Real Sichuan’s worldly side

IN Sichuan province, where the Yangtze River penetrates deep into China’s western region, the cuisine has two faces. In the mist-shrouded mountainous rural villages, cooking was traditionally rough-edged and earthy. Of necessity, the daily fare was assembled from preserved ingredients -- pickled greens and salty fermented bean paste added complex flavors to vegetables and meats. And, as chiliheads know, the dishes were (and are) often packed with potent hot peppers.

Meanwhile, in cities such as Chengdu and Chongqing, even before the recent modernization, the cooking had already developed a genteel, worldly side, incorporating refined banquet dishes from other regions such as steamed saltwater fish into everyday menus and adapting favorites such as Shanghai meatballs to Sichuan tastes.

The recent mini-trend of Monterey Park cafes specializing in Sichuan food has finally brought authentic Sichuan flavors to the Southland after decades of mock-Sichuan fare that is really Cantonese dishes with a few chile peppers and peanuts thrown in. And while the cooking at these true Sichuan places has been a revelation, the focus has been on traditional rustic dishes.

None has represented the modern urban side of the cuisine until Best Szechuan Chili & Seafood opened in the former Rong Hawa space. Here, although the fish tanks and availability of lobster trick some passersby into thinking it’s a Cantonese place, there’s a menu that’s solidly contemporary Sichuan.

You’ll find duck hot pot, chopped chicken with chiles, eel with pickled peppers and pork innards stewed with chiles and bean paste at every Monterey Park Sichuan restaurant. But at Best Szechuan, you’ll also find golden lobster, tea-smoked duck and a delicately seasoned chicken and bamboo-pith soup. Here a dish may have an initial flash of heat, but the heat opens your palate to the clear, bright tastes that follow: the fresh tang of ginger or vinegar, the sweetness of garlic and the nut-like roastiness of sesame oil. Many dishes are beautifully seasoned without the use of chile at all.

Best Szechuan, situated unobtrusively at the back of a minimall, is spacious but simple, its two dining rooms lined with dark cherrywood wainscoting. White cloths drape the tables. Next to tanks holding lobsters, crabs and freshwater fish sits a typical Sichuan-style mini-buffet generously stocked with appetizers: silky paper-thin slices of braised tongue, lightly dressed young soy beans or cucumbers and ragingly hot dry-fried beef slivers, cooked to an almost jerky-like texture. A selection before tackling the menu takes the edge off everyone’s hunger as they ponder the meal’s possibilities.

Listed on a separate photocopied page that accompanies the colorful bound menu are what our waiter described as “popular dishes cooked by the sous chefs.” The dishes on the main menu are said to be prepared by a chef schooled in Sichuan; items from either always seem to be of equal quality.

Lamb dishes here are simply stunning. Sauteed lamb with chile pepper comes tossed with a frightening quantity of roughly cut green jalapenos. But while the meat, accented with fermented black beans, thickly sliced garlic cloves and western-style leeks, picks up the fruity perfume of the chiles, it isn’t incendiary itself. The interplay of these elements is powerful, yet subtle.

A sauteed dish called Ze Zen lamb with its light veil of dry cumin and pepper-laden sauce clinging to slices of meat tastes almost like a curry. One evening’s special of lamb riblets came in the typical rustic style, fried with an equal quantity of lethally hot, tiny red dried chiles and hua-jiao, or Sichuan pepper. Sichuan devotees will recognize its similarity to a dish (also served here) made with tiny nuggets of marinated, fried chicken. Hua-jiao, actually a flower bud of the prickly ash, imparts a slight tingling and numbing sensation on the lips. The Chinese call this effect ma; it adds a secondary wave of flavor and a sensory dimension found nowhere else but Western Chinese cooking.

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Crowd-pleasing

AS with many Chinese restaurants, it takes at least a party of four or even six to put together a diverse meal. With its live fish, abundant vegetable dishes and long list of pepper-free dishes, Best Szechuan makes it easy to balance Sichuan’s hair-raising heat with soothing, delicately seasoned choices. Try the crisp-skinned, lean tea-smoked duck (called herbal duck on this menu). Chiliheads may be disappointed, but connoisseurs of complex flavoring will detect the subtle smokiness and light herbal scent of the meat. Both the rich, ultra-chickeny soup with bamboo pith and the crispy rice-cake seafood soup that sputters like a volcano as the waiter pours the saucy stock over toasted grains, are terrifically palate-calming.

Live seafood is what sets Best Szechuan apart and the preparation can run from the sweet-fleshed, barely seasoned steamed white fish to the tonsil-jolting chile-doused “full-house red lobster.”

One evening, we had polished off an order of golden lobster, a dish of luscious, white lobster meat coated in egg yolk, deep fried and served with crunchy roe strewn over. It was so good that when we’d finished the meat but before the platter was removed, one guest jumped up and added a bowl of rice to the remaining juices and roe. We blended the rice into the sauce to give ourselves a second round of its incredible buttery-salty sweetness. Inspired, we repeated the act with the peppery peanut-y sauce of a dish called dan dan noodles; no one wanted to waste even a drop.

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Best Szechuan Chili & Seafood

Location: 230 N. Garfield Ave., No. 12 D Monterey Park (626) 572-4629.

Price: Appetizers, $3; entrees, $5 to $36 (family-size portions).

Best dishes: Ze Zen lamb, golden lobster, herbal duck (tea-smoked duck), dan dan noodle, crispy rice seafood soup.

Details: Open for lunch and dinner 11 a.m. to 9:30 p.m. Monday through Saturday; 11a.m. to 8:30 p.m. Sunday. Lot parking. Cash only. Beer and soft drinks.