Gingko Restaurant

Address No 19, Section 4, South Renmin Road 1st to 5th floor,

Opening Hours Lunch and dinner daily

Telephone +8628 8526 8888

There is a saying in Chengdu, Sichuan that “if you didn’t dine at the Gingko restaurant when in Chengdu, you probably don’t have good local friends here.” It would sound like some major self trumpeting by their overzealous PR department running on overdrive. But no, it is what the public and the media had said about this, arguably, the most iconic modern upscale eatery in Chengdu, a reputation achieved, all within a year in the business.

The exquisite Interior of Gingko Restaurant
spread over five floors of dining space

It was also heartening to know the folks I have come in contact with there, regard me as a good friend (it helps that I have that i-wanna-eat face). Gingko Restaurant is not a casual diner’s paradise (unless $60 per head is your meal average). The place reeks of modern decadence and has a deco that can fit into any developed city. The pillars glow like a lightbox which reflects on the marble floor and there are seating areas for the foodies (who want to see everything that everyone else is eating) and private corners divided by shiny steel-chain curtains. Their style of Sichuan cuisine has touches of Cantonese influence. When we got past the oohs and aahhs of the deco and the very alert (the warm towel was immediately changed when it sat for too long before I used it) and pleasant service, the dishes came a calling.

The pale looking fragrant mala chicken at Emperor Garden Forever restaurant taste meaner than it looks

The palate was up and about after the first salad of fresh baby tang-o (garland chrysanthemum greens, the kind we use in steamboats) simply touched with hints of sesame oil and a pinch of salt. It was riveted after the second cold dish of cold mala (spicy and numbing) chicken, which was done just a tad gentler than the murderous street versions. I was not too sure about the little Cantonese touches in their signature blue-plate special hotplate beef.

Singku's meltingly soft signature hotplate beef
has a sichuan-cantonese accent

It was meltingly soft and had a nice soy-oyster sauce-Chinese-restaurant-flavour feel to it, but it does not say Sichuan. Then a platter of sliced sea cucumber, chillis, greens, with minced pork tossed in mala spices was individually wrapped in lettuce leaf by the smooth wait staff. The crunch, the heat, the texture and the sting...gorgeous. A dish of what look like Thai-style claypot prawns with glass noodles stood before us and it was not until I bit into the base sauce which was nice and lightly perfumed with Sichuan peppercorns and chilli that took me away from the my Thai bias. I thoroughly enjoyed their daikon (radish), carrot and chicken soup flavoured with black beans. I did not care that it reminded me of my Cantonese roots.

 

Emperor’s Garden Forever Restaurant

Address 138 ,Zi Rui Road

Opening Hours Lunch and dinner daily

Telephone +8628 8515 9588

I have no idea how the boss at Emperor Forever Garden spent only $800,000 for 34,000 sqft of this restaurant design quality

Inhale...the whole 450 seater restaurant is a custom built two storey building with 34,000sqf of dining space divided into an open seating concept looking into a garden atrium, and 26 private dining rooms with lounging areas seduced by exquisitely huge Chinese antique replicas. Exhale...whooh! Then the boss tells me quietly that he only spent 4 million yuan ($800,000) on the whole exercise, including land acquisition. Food for the eyes aside, a big bowl of pale looking fragrant chicken, cooked with Sichuan peppercorns, fresh leeks and chillis was served. It was addictive. The contrast of looks and the gently numbing sensation with the stinging rawness of the leeks was such a refreshing touch on the salted chicken. It went so well with another cold dish starter – fresh honeyed kumquat peel with lily bulb slices. It was a starter like no other I’ve had before. The cold crunch of the piquant peel in honey syrup with fresh lily bulbs was a nice reprieve. Their traditional Er Kan, which has a fancier international name foie gras (goose liver), came to us steamed, then cooled and sliced thinly with drops of lemon juice. It felt rich but was not as fatty as their French cousins, who ate better at the farms.

A familiar dish came next- river carp head (song yue) in bean sauce with chilli. The only difference with their version was the supreme freshness and quality of their fish, caught fresh daily off their rivers and the intensity of the fermented bean sauce (not done with kiasu foodies in mind), partner that with a bowl of steamed rice, is the stuff Chinese food culture is made of. Then some very potent rice wine (52% alcohol content) flowed down my hatch (about five cups) and I vaguely remembered some live shrimps jumping on a bowl of wine laced chilli mala sauce. Some made its way into my mouth. I don’t remember how. But the wine kept the fire inside at bay and me, calm.

Next, I was asleep in my hotel.