Do Chengdu residents eat spicy, numbing, oil-slicked delights at every meal? The Astronomer and I often wondered this during our Sichuan stay. Though we were never able to confirm locals’ dining habits, we consciously dedicated every meal to the stuff that burns, really burns, because we wanted to experience Chengdu’s cuisine to the fullest.

The spiciest meal of the trip, the one that made me feel downright intoxicated from all the chilies and peppercorns, was at Yu Yue Men Leng Guo Yu*, an emporium of communal dining.

The only dish served here is “Cold Pot Fish” (leng guo yu), a Sichuan specialty in which perfectly cooked fish fillets, usually Silver Carp, are served in a “cold” hot pot to begin; the broth’s actual temperature is lukewarm. The hot pot’s burners are turned on when all of the fish has been eaten to avoid over-cooking the fish. Then, it’s a traditional hot pot experience complete with veggies, noodles, meat, and the like!

In a futile attempt to keep the avalanche of numbing spice at bay, I sipped on Chinese Sunny-D, while The Astronomer chugged some beer.

To start, a dark, murky broth was plopped into the empty slot at the center of our table.

Sensing correctly that The Astronomer and I had absolutely no clue what we were doing, one of the gals who worked at the restaurant filled our small, individual bowls with fish, broth, and a large number of skinny beansprouts.

Since “Cold Pot Fish” is meant to be consumed communally with a large group, our party of two was called on to plow through a whole lot of fish! Some fillets were perfectly boneless, while others had teeny tiny cumbersome bits. The Silver Carp’s flesh was unfailingly tender.

The aromatics, a heady blend of green peppercorns, scallions, fresh and dried chilies, and plenty more unidentifiable ingredients, challenged my spice-loving taste buds in a way I’d never before experienced. It was painful yet delicious—a wicked good dream.

Once we had eaten every last morsel of fish, it was time to turn up the heat and pile in the goodies.

From the selection of ingredients in the back, I chose two varieties of mushrooms, greens, bean curd sheets, and noodles.

When we dialed up the heat to ten, the broth somehow tasted even spicier than before. I tried my darndest to be tough, but damn, this pot was hot—literally and figuratively.

I stumbled out of the restaurant completely ma la wasted—my head throbbing, my walk uneven. “Cold Pot Fish” isn’t for the faint of heart or weak of stomach. Proceed with extreme caution (and enjoy!).

* The restaurant’s name translates to “fish jump over gate cold pot fish,” which is an allusion to a Chinese legend. According to The Astronomer’s Chinese colleague, the emperor instituted a series of competitive exams in 700 AD to allow peasants a chance to earn their way into government. The Chinese relate this system to fish trying to jump over a gate at the end of the Yellow River. Many fish tried for a long time, and finally, one fish made it—the jumping over the gate was comparably difficult to passing the exam, and Chinese people say “fish over gate” to wish people good luck on tests like college entrance exams. The restaurant probably chose the name trying to attract families looking for good luck for their kids.

—

Yu Yue Men Leng Guo Yu (click here for Google map)
1 Dong Sheng Jie
HeJiangTing, Jin Jiang Qu
Chengdu, Sichuan, China, 610021 ‎

One year ago: {swoon} Choux aux Sésames at Pâtisserie Chantilly
Two years ago: Food & Wine All-Star Weekend: A New American Lunch at Sage (Aria Resort & Casino)
Three years ago: Eat My Blog: Winter 2010 Edition
Four years ago: Outstanding in the Field – San Francisco
Five years ago: Phở 79 – Alhambra
Six years ago: Bánh Mì Thịt Nướng
Seven years ago: Flying Monkey Patisserie – Philadelphia