Chance landed me back in Chengdu last week and, as usual, being in the land that offers one of China’s greatest cuisines, meant I have to be a whole lot more focused this time around. I have good pals there who will always, like they did again this time, whisk me off to polished places for a gorgeous feast and some supremely fine local wine. But, this time, I had to specifically ask, even strangers, where locals there go to for their no-frills celebration of Chuan Cai, that fiery cuisine of Szechuan, that is so well exported all over the world.

At a few decent opportunities, I popped the question to soulful Chengdu locals, and three of them bounced backed with the same answer. The taxi driver did, so did the foot reflexologist and a new friend I bumped into at a pub who was borderline incoherent and nursing a bottle of whiskey (he was friendly and warm and kudunspikzoookleery.) But when asked, and as if in a sudden epiphany and spoken like an all knowing guru, he said “I have seen you on Beijing TV and I know you will love this place. It’s a little more than a food shack and this is where all the true blue locals go to get their real deal Chuan Cai fix regularly.”, then he slunked back and muttered something about how difficult it is to find the place.

Blink and you may miss this soulful Chengdu makan icon to the locals

Ming Ting Fan Dian (if you can read the Chinese sign) is tucked in a side road hidden behind a noisy street market that lined it each morning. I was greeted by a colourful tarpaulin sheet acting like some boutique lobby entrance canopy. It looked like a little coffeeshop with covered al-fresco seating and was very crowded. I leaned into the stall and at once was immediately ushered and shown our seats. They wait staff meandered us deeper into the recess of this crack along the alleyway at I realized at once, that they owned the whole building and every room behind was a private, albeit simple but air-con cooled, dining hall. You can see some well heeled local smoky diners puff over their meals and sometimes regarded the floor as a spittoon. Not something I am unaccustomed to as I dine in Geylang and Chinatown too. The place could sit a few hundred, easily, and all everybody came for was the food, food and food, including me. I struggled first with the Chinese menu, then with their accent and finally gave up and said, “Just bring me your house specialties, the ones you get sick of serving each day.”

The main event at Ming Ting Fan Dian- pig brain mala tofu.

Like thunder after lightning, signature number one came very quickly – pig brain mala tofu (even my drunken pal suggested it), all red and temptingly soft. I could taste what I saw. It was soulful, with confusingly similar textures of the tofu and the grey matter, but yet different in taste and all guarded by a perfectly spiced mala sauce. It was sensational over that bed of soft fluffy rice. Then a plate of sliced up carp stewed and flooded in Szechuan chillis and peppers followed by two toned chilli chicken and pork pieces fried with red and green chillis with ginger cubes. They cut the meats into little beer-food-pub-grub pieces and we had to excavate the sea of red and green to extract the little morsels. Of course they were all burning in the mouth, yet irritatingly addictive. We had to calm it down with some clear radish and pork ribs soup and some of the best stir fried glass noodles with cabbage I have had- all good simply because of the sweetness of the vegetables. The view out the window of our room was of someone’s pyjamas drying in the alleyway, but it all added to the comfort food home atmosphere.

The rib that escape me and ripped me apart,
beckoning in red pepper and chopped long beans

Then as if to test if all three of us had enough, the server plonked a plate of deep fried pork ribs, the kind just dusted in flour, then fried till crisp and tossed again in some Szechuan red pepper, and lots of chopped long beans with ginger. It was staring at and daring us to crunch it. But the waitress teased, just as we were mesmerized and howling in anticipation “sorry this is meant for another customer, but do you want his anyway”.

I said “no”, she left, and I realized that sometimes, the strength of will in the face of temptation and adversity comes with a price. Now, I have to go back for it (along for the other 80 dishes in the menu).