Shan

New Winter Menu: Yibin Ran Mian

A few weeks ago, we sat in a nondescript apartment courtyard, in Chengdu, the capital of Sichuan Province. Tables were scattered across the courtyard, all them full, and each one covered in tangles of noodles and chili oil. Chef Yang Bo Ying proudly walked between the diners, in his approximated courtyard restaurant, dropping bowls of go hun mian (steal your soul noodles) or his dense, chewy tian shui mian that one must order a day in advance. We ate 8 bowls of Yang Bo Ying’s noodles for lunch (and returned the next day, for more). They’re just that good. 

This former hotel banquet chef has perfected the classic noodles of Sichuan at his restaurant, and created a few new ones of his own, by adapting classic Chengdu dishes (like twice-cooked pork) into a bowl of slippery, slupy goodness. We loved all of his dishes but chose to first work on one: Yibin Ran Mian, the ‘burning noodles’ of Yibin (a city 3 hours to the south).

The thing that struck us most about Yang Bo Ying’s noodles was the fragrant, nutty essence of his chili oil. We’ve been working on that, toasting different chilies to reach that place where heat and flavor meet, and we’re ready to serve them. Our noodles are made with beautiful ground beef from ST Bar ranch, pickled mustard greens (yibin yacai) from the city of Yibin  (which we were able to source), peanuts which we fry in-house, wok-toasted sesame seeds, and the white parts of the spring onion. 

Our new winter menu drops tomorrow, with plenty of other new dishes to try. But we’d like to say thanks to Yang Bo Ying, and our guides,  and , for all the inspiration.

Come try those noodles, and lots more, this week!

The first leg of our journey was a restaurant exploration of Shanghai. Shanghai has always felt like the center of China’s commercial universe; that feeling remains. But it is quieter, cleaner and far more functional that when we left it, in 2008. The art deco architecture and tree-shaded lanes of the French Concession remain, but other aspects of life her are almost unrecognizable. In many ways, it felt like stepping into the future.

On to the food. In what seems like a lifetime ago, I used to write about Chinese food here, for magazines and newspapers. Little did I know, twenty years later, I’d be cooking it professionally. Since I left, it has grown far more diverse, at least when it comes to regional Chinese cuisine (international food, not so much). There are dozens of styles of hotpot and clean, artfully designed provincial restaurants serving regional cuisines (the grimy, spicy dives of my memory are few). Because we cook things from mountainous, landlocked places at our restaurant in Montana, we focused on the cuisines of Guizhou, Hunan, Xinjiang and Yunnan. We wandered wet markets, and our guide also took us on a gut-busting breakfast tour of his favorite Shanghai-style dumplings, and shallow-fried buns. We also ate at our friend excellent modern Chinese restaurant Bastard – where the menu wanders from place to place, but is marked by precision and technique (the wine list also kicks ass).

Since opening Shan, I’ve tried to translate the flavors of China to my cooks – the sting of pickled peppers and puckering long beans, the smoke of Hunan’s cured pork; the cumin-laced cookery of the far west; the sour-bright spice of Guizhou. To talk about this food is one thing, but to taste it, here, is quite another.

Anyhow, here are some images of our first few days, exhaustively eating our way through a thicket of restaurants in Shanghai. And now, on to Xi’an.