Sichuan Sausages

Earlier in the year I had an inspirational meal at Chilli Cool. Having never had Sichuan food before, I was oblivious to the narcoleptic charms of Sichuan peppercorns which not only set your mouth on fire but numb it at the same time. I left feeling invigorated and keen to dabble with Sichuan pepper.

So I invented my own Sichuan sausage recipe. And would you believe it, the sausages are amazing. Here’s how you make them.

Mince a 60/40 mix of pork belly and pork shoulder. For 6 sausages throw in a handful of breadcrumbs. Then, in a pestle and mortar, grind 3 dessert spoons of Sichuan peppercorns to a fine dust. Add them to the pork. Then slice up a spring onion and add it to the party. Grate a whole thumb of ginger into the pork along with a a couple of cloves of minced garlic. Then sprinkle in a generous amount of chilli seeds and then as much Chinese 5 spice as you think seems right. Season with salt, or for added authenticity some MSG.

Mix the pork and spices together and then feed into sausage casings. Allow the sausage to rest for a few hours before cooking as this will allow the meat to settle and relax after the trauma of the sausage making process.

Amazingly a few wires got tangled up in the Brown kitchen and we landed up serving them with Brussels’ sprouts and carrots! The winter vegetables admirably stuck to their task. It prompted one of the funnier moments over Christmas when my Grandfather, who isn’t a fan of spice, said, “I don’t mind about the chilli because my mouth has gone numb”. There was something deeply surreal about the whole experience. And this odd situation allowed us to concentrate on the flavour of the sausages which whilst taking no prisoners, were a spectacular success.

My plan had been to take inspiration from “Dan Dan Noodles” (see photo above courtesy of scaredy_kat on Flickr via creative commons ) and cook them in a liquor of soy sauce, chillies and stock and then serve them with noodles and pak choi. They would also be great without their casings as meat balls in a Chinese broth. If you’ve got any suggestions about what to serve them with, I’d love to hear your thoughts.

And if you are thinking what wines would go well with a Sichuan sausage, then Gareth from Bibendum suggests drinking Argentine Bonarda and Fiona the Winematcher suggests a New Zealand Pinot Noir.

This is part of a series of posts about experimental sausages and a potential sausage-fest

Chilli Cool

I’m no expert in Sichuan food, but I do know that I loved every single mouthful of our meal at Chilli Cool. The food was authentic, punchy and numbing all at the same time. My research tells me that Sichuan cuisine is built around the elixir of garlic, red chillies and sichuan peppercorns which produce a numbing, tingly experience. The fact that the Chinese language can express this in one character, “麻”, just goes to show that we Brits like to waffle and are missing out on an exciting sensory experience.

Lizzie took control and ordered an array of dishes for us all to share. The huge benefit of going as a group of 6 is that you get to try more food. and the fact that Lizzie knew what she was doing helped us no end. I’m sure if I had been ordering we’d have landed up with some chicken chow mein and pineapple infested sweet and sour pork.

“Sliced Pork Belly in Mashed Garlic Sauce” was soft and almost creamy in texture. It had us all playing chopstick hockey to get the last slither of garlicky flesh.

“Beef & Ox Tripe in Chilli Sauce” would have many people wondering whether they had just been brought a bowl of dog food. But the truth is that this was delicious. The tripe was soft and deeply flavoured with a big kick of chilli to keep you on your toes. It isn’t for the faint of heart.

“Hot & Chilli Crispy Pork Intestine” was a revelation. The sections of intestine had been battered and deep fried in a way that made them explode with gungy porky goodness in your mouth. I was deeply fearful of these when they arrived and was delighted when I not only managed to not spit them out, but liked them so much I managed to get a second helping.

“Stir-Fried Before Stewing The Jack Bean Dry” is a bizarre name for what was essentially, beans with minced pork and enough chilli to start a world war. As delicious as they were oddly named.

Bean curd with spring onions, garlic and more than enough chilli was a triumph. I’m never quite sure about bean curd, but I am growing to like it. Especially when it is served like this.

And then what we’d all been waiting for. The famous Sichuan hotpot. This particular hotpot was full of soft grouper, Sichuan peppercorns and red chillis. It’s the sort of dish that would give anyone who has a subscription to the Telegraph a heart attack. It managed to keep us all quiet for a solid 10 minutes which is quite something.

It’s a cracking little restaurant that was doing a roaring trade on an otherwise innocuous Wednesday night in the back streets of Bloomsbury. I’m gagging to go back in order to introduce some friends to the addictive charms of Sichuan cooking.