Slippery, bouncy, spaghetti-like noodles. Caramelised ground pork with pickled mustard greens. Verdant just-blanched bok choy. And a vibrant, fiery and savoury broth spiked with five-spice powder, Sichuan pepper and chilli. We’re currently demolishing a bowl of Dan Dan noodles, a classic Chinese dish originating from the Sichuan province. It’s a heart-warming flavour bomb in a bowl. And the best part? It costs just $5.90. Yeah, we can’t believe it either.
We’re at Spicy Joint in Haymarket, China’s popular Sichuan chain which has four outposts in Sydney, including Burwood, Rhodes and Chatswood. Though, don’t be put off by the word chain, as tacky this place ain’t.
Inside is huge. The dining room is decked out in 50 Shades of Brown, with intricate timber features and plush leather seats. It’s a handsome and classy space, and there’s not a free seat in the house.
Just like the room, the menu is extensive and comes with a picture of every single dish, making perusing the glossy pages both pleasurable and hunger-inducing. Interestingly, there is no red wine by the glass available. A bottle, then? Consider our arm twisted.
We see surrounding tables digging into Spicy Joint’s signature dish: water-boiled fish, where bass or catfish is gently boiled in a broth before piping hot oil is poured over it, unlocking fragrance and aromatics from chilli and peppercorns. And we’re tempted by a dish of cold chicken with chilli and a crunchy peanut sauce. But those two will have to wait for next time. We’ve got our order.
It’s not long before our beef hot pot arrives in a pretty blue and white bowl with a come-hither look and an incredibly fragrant aroma. In the centre of the broth is a mountain made up of thinly sliced beef, a scattering of crisp chickpeas, flecks of white sesame seeds and a handful of coriander. We taste the trademark Sichuan peppercorns in the spicy soup and, soon enough a tingly, numbing sensation is knocking on our door. Punchy and light at the same time, it’s a winner.
A bowl of chilled cucumbers are cut up and dressed with dried, roasted chillies, a whack of salt and enough garlic to repel Edward Cullen. It’s so, so good, and we can’t stop eating it. Kissing? It’s overrated anyway.
We find it hard to bypass dumplings on a menu. Here, the pork inside is pink and juicy, and flavoured subtly with ginger and shallots. They’re wrapped in a slippery wonton wrapper and doused in a lick of chilli oil and soy. Totally smashable. So we do.
Spicy Joint isn’t faultless, but few places are. The Dan Dan noodles are slightly overcooked, there are dozens of cardboard boxes stacked haphazardly along the back wall, and the bathroom is in need of a freshen up. But with prices and flavours like these, we don’t care.
By the time we get up to leave we see there’s a queue of people waiting to get their piece of the Spicy Joint action. And we don’t blame them. A visit to Spicy Joint is a one-way ticket to flavour town, and the best part is that you can travel there on a shoestring and not miss out on any of the fun.
