Trizest’s existence to Detroit foodies is like dangling a steak in front of a ravenous coyote. Their Sichuan menu is vibrant and full-flavored, aromatic, intense. Yet, it’s terribly inaccessible — the Sichuan dishes are written in Chinese characters with inexcusably poor English translations; and the “English menu” is an insulting amalgamation of egg rolls, General Tso’s chicken, and other such American excuses for Chinese food.
That Sichuan menu teased me for months. It sat at the counter, in all its calligraphic beauty. Yet because of my obtuse Americanness, the servers wouldn’t even let me see it.
I yearned. I yipped. I pawed. I began to drool in the corners of my mouth while imagining the fantastic taste of Sichuan peppercorns.
And then, finally, I connected with a group of Chowhounders for a special 16-dish Sichuan dinner at Trizest. With a few special requests from the ‘hounds, Trizest management prepared this fluent and diverse feast of their greatest Sichuan specialties (all available on regular Sichuan menu). At long last, we would be privy to Trizest’s Sichuan menu. At long last, we would experience Trizest beyond the deep-fried proteins submerged in a gelatinous gravy.
The dishes I managed to photograph before everyone dug in:
cold spiced beef — paper-thin slips of beef were dainty on the tongue and carried a tart, fragrant sauce