The real love affair (sorry, James) started when I finally got a clue and figured out how to really enjoy Sichuan peppercorns:

1. Dry-roast the peppercorns until they are pungent in a wok
2. Grind the peppercorns in a spice grinder at the “fine” setting
3. Pour through a sieve into an airtight container (to filter out the stems and husks)
4. Sprinkle that sh–um, I mean stuff –on everything!

The ground, roasted Sichuan peppercorns stay crisp and fresh in flavor and scent for a month; I dry-roasted ½ cup a few weeks ago and I’ve still got a few tablespoons left over, so I would suggest roasting much less if you don’t favor Chinese or Sichuan food as much as I do (2-3x a week). But I can assure you it’s totally worth it; you won’t experience the richness of flavor that Sichuan peppercorn/prickly ash is famous for unless you roast it first. At first, I thought it was the inferiority of the brand I was using… turns out that most any brand regardless of price will taste heavenly if you roast it first. (But I still believe spending a little extra on higher-quality peppercorns will only help!)

With that said, I’ve been trying different recipes of Kung Pao chicken for a while now–always looking for something a little more authentic, a little more spicy. I finally found a few Sichuan-based recipes recently, and have created something based on my preferences that I wanted to share! It’s definitely on the spicier side, so feel free to use fewer chili peppers than the recipe calls for. The bell pepper and diced onions are definitely more American-style Kung Pao than the traditional recipe (which simply calls for diced chicken and scallions), but I liked the sweetness that the vegetables lent to the savory spiciness of the dish.

As I mentioned earlier, I literally do sprinkle the ground Sichuan peppercorn on anything that may conceivably taste good with it, and this recipe is no exception. The numbing spice of Sichuan peppercorn and the heated spice of chili peppers have always paired well together, but they are especially delicious with the kung pao sauce here. The aroma of freshly stir-fried kung pao chicken, dotted with the ground peppercorn, is both exotic and mouth-watering. Much, much more appetizing than the standard kung pao you’ll find at American Chinese restaurants, I guarantee it.

My favorite part of this dish has always been the roasted peanuts; I love the mix of both flavor and consistency that peanuts bring when added. I cheated and used dry-roasted, non-salted peanuts for this recipe… but if you have the time and the energy, shelling and frying raw peanuts gives a stronger, smokier flavor to the overall dish that ready-made peanuts can’t quite accomplish. Just be sure to be vigilant and stay at the stove when frying them, as they will burn very quickly if not under constant watch!

If you prefer using chicken thighs over chicken breast (and I almost always do), you can skip the marinating if you’d like. But I would do it anyway, as I think the small amount of xiaoxing or cooking wine used gives the chicken complexity. I know most people prefer how much easier breast is to cut through than thigh… no fat to trim or uneven pieces to measure. In this case, the marinade “velvets” the drier chicken breast meat and makes it more appetizing to eat.

This main dish is on heavy rotation in our kitchen, and I hope it finds its way to yours as well.

I started making Three Cup Chicken a few years ago, but every recipe I found was just a wee bit off from that first magical bite I had some years ago… too sweet, too bland, too salty! Pretty silly for a recipe that is quite literally named Three Cup for a reason: one teacup of soy sauce, one teacup of rice wine, one teacup of sesame oil. But after tinkering around recently, I’ve settled on this recipe that I’ve been able to consistently reproduce. Yay!

Velvet-ing the chicken, or breaking down the muscle fibers in the chicken to create a more “velvet” texture, isn’t usually necessary for thighs since they’re more tender than breasts. However, I really loved the softness of the chicken and the flavor that the marinade imparts, so I incorporated that into my version. Other than the “cups” for the sauce and the aromatics, the spice and sweetness of the dish can be easily adjusted to your taste preferences.

The only ingredient I have to insist you do not substitute is Thai basil. Italian basil won’t create the sharp, aromatic flavor that contrasts so well with the sweetness of the sauce. Use it if you must, but know that the chicken will taste far from authentic if you substitute the basil.

Being able to recreate a popular dish from James’ ethnic homeland makes my heart happy! I hope this easy recipe encourages you to not only try making it, but to try other Taiwanese food as well.