Sichuan (or Szechuan) cooking is often associated with blistering heat thanks to a heavy hand with the numerous chiles grown in the region. Unlike the tame stuff you'll find at local take-out joints, true Sichuan dishes take a lifetime of exposure to truly appreciate, spice novices rendered insensate and hallucinating in the corner, drowning in milk and water, clutching tongues engorged by the onslaught of oily heat. Build up a tolerance and you'll find that the pickled, smoked, dried and cured peppers used by these southwestern Chinese chefs impart exquisite flavors to their dishes.
But it's not just the Scoville scale that enflames this cuisine. These guys have a secret weapon: the Sichuan peppercorn.
It's pretty, a tiny flowery bud covered in fur. Pop a piece and the tart acidity — a little lemony — causes an immediate reaction in the back of your mouth, salivary glands kicking into overdrive. Then a bit of subtle heat, more like tamed jalapeno than the ball-busters usually associated with the Sichuan province. Finally, an odd tingling spreads through your mouth, lips and gums, a combination of spritzy carbonation and novocaine. Several minutes later, it fades away.
In his perpetually useful On Food and Cooking, culinary scientist Harold McGee says that Sichaun peppercorns "appear to act on several different kinds of nerve endings at once, induce sensitivity to touch and cold in nerves that are ordinarily non-sensitive, and so perhaps cause a kind of general neurological confusion." A University of California Department of Physiology study nailed the chemical process, saying "pungent agents from Szechuan peppers excite sensory neurons by inhibiting two-pore potassium channels." Sounds like something a 14-year-old would eat hoping for a brief high.
In Southern China, bowls of dark paste derived from the peppercorn adorn tables along with MSG, dried and wet chiles, soy sauce and sugar as condiments of choice. In Sichuan, it's tough to find dishes that don't contain a hefty dose of the stuff, amping the heat factor with the peppercorn's pseudo-medicinal, neurologically-disturbing effects. It's also one of the common ingredients in Chinese five-spice powder.
Because of an almost 30-year ban (lifted by the FDA in 2005) instituted out of fear of citrus canker, the buds are difficult to find here, one of the only ubiquitous Chinese ingredients to gain little traction in the States. There are mail-order sources, and the better Asian markets carry varieties (see below). Mostly you'll find them dried — technically they have to be heated to 160 degrees to be imported — which substantially reduces the powerful effect; they'll still do the trick.
Even with the rules, though, you can occasionally find "fresh" berries that pack a much more significant punch, often labeled with a proprietary name or tagged as "edible flowers." Sometimes these berries are more yellow than the traditional red, but the flavor is the same; just make sure to only use the husk as the core can impart bitter flavors to a dish.
What to cook? The citrus burst and numbing heat works in a number of flavorful dishes. Any Sichuan recipe with an ounce of authenticity will use these peppercorns, with numerous examples online and in cookbooks. Innovative bars have used them to infuse vodka or other spirits, or included ground versions in cocktails. If you find them whole, chop the husk and add it in the final stages of cooking to major effect, confusing dinner party guests with your adopted secret ingredient.
Sources: Penzeys Spices, Oceanic Trading Supermarket
This article appears in Aug 20-26, 2008.