Eliza Billingham photo
Mapo tofu from Gordy's Sichuan Cafe on 30th Avenue, Spokane.
This is an installment of the Inlander
's yearlong project "Around the World in 80 Plates," a quest to find 80 foods and drinks in the Spokane area representing 80 different places. Read the introduction to the project here.
Count of dishes/places: 35
Oh. So this is what they mean by "numbing effect." Well, this is fun.
No, seriously. This is actually fun.
My spice tolerance is truly bottom tier — like, the house salsa they put out with chips at Mexican restaurants can be more than enough for me — which is why I was terrified to order anything off the "Entrees — Hot" section of the menu at Gordy's Sichuan Cafe.
But for the sake of journalism, I did it. For you. My faithful readers. The deserving general public. Or maybe, slightly, for my own pride.
Either way, I put my big girl pants on and ordered mapo tofu, one of the most famous dishes from a Sichuan kitchen.
Sichuan is a Spain-sized southwestern province of China that is famous all over the world for its cuisine — specifically, its affection for spicy chilis and unusual "mouth-numbing" Sichuan peppercorns. The peppercorns are actually the
berry of the prickly ash tree, which in turn is part of the citrus family. Sichuan peppercorns are usually pink (though on rare occasion, green) and do have more of a citrus-adjacent flavor profile than our common black peppercorns.
Harvesting, deseeding and drying the berries is a labor-intensive process, but the peppercorns are so precious to the region and its cuisine that abandoning the process is out of the question.
Sichuan peppercorns contain a chemical called
hydroxy-alpha-sanshool, which doesn't exactly roll off the tongue. But it does, research has shown, set off the touch receptors in our tongue. Just like capsaicin in the world's hottest chili peppers makes your tongue feel like it's burning even though there's no actual heat, hydroxy-alpha-sanshool makes your tongue and lips feel like they're being touched, even vibrated, long after you've chewed and swallowed your food.
I trepidatiously took my first bite of the mapo tofu. It was custardy soft and seasoned with bits of rich pork, dripping with a thick, spicy sauce. My first thought?
This is effing delicious. It was so much brighter than I expected, and unlike any Chinese dishes I've had before. I was also not drowning in spice-induced snot, sweat and tears like I expected.
Eliza Billingham photo
Custardy soft tofu drenched in a pork and peppercorn sauce.
So I dove in for a second bite. Then a third. Finally, the heat started to catch up. But it wasn't aggressive. I wanted to keep eating more. I was feeling so bold, I even went ahead and combined the rice, which I was saving for an emergency, with the savory sauce.
And then I started to feel it. The tingling. Like someone was spreading a velvet blanket over my mouth, or massaging my lips with tiny, tiny Q-tips. It wasn't painful at all, the way that heat from chilis can be (at least for people like me). It was like every taste bud was doing a teensy-weensy happy dance, or the cells on my lips were organizing like fans in a football stadium for the tiniest, most microscopic wave.
I'm still not quite sure why they consider it a "numbing" effect, although I did read later that the tingling can mask heat from chilis and allow you to eat more spicy food. I'm also aware that Gordy's probably tones down the chili heat for white wimps like me.
But all in all, my first experience with the spicy side of the menu was a resounding success, with many thanks to hydroxy-alpha-sanshool. The numbing or tingling or whatever you call it is actually fun, unlike the burn from chili heat. My only complaint is that I wish it lingered longer. It was gone within minutes of finishing the dish, which I ate far more quickly than I anticipated.
So consider this your sign to order from the dangerous side of the menu. I hope all my gonzo journalism goes this well in the future. But no, this is not my audition to be the next host of
Hot Ones. I know my limits. ♦
Have an idea for what I should eat next? Wanna make me a traditional dish from your hometown? Send 80 Plates tips and ideas to elizab@inlander.com.