Sichuan Bang Bang Chicken: Your New Fav Meal ft. DIY Chili Oil

Imagine tender, succulent chicken and crisp cucumber draped with a sauce that hits every possible flavour note. This is Sichuanese Bang Bang Chicken, a flavour bomb of a dish that's actually deceptively easy to make. Let me show you how you can have this on your table in about half an hour. Hey there, welcome to my kitchen. My name is Sheldon, but my friends call me Sheldo, so why don't you do the same? Today we're making Bang Bang Chicken, or Bang Bang Ji. It's my idea of the perfect weeknight meal. It's super flavourful, pretty healthy, and quick to throw together. This dish hails from the Sichuan province in China, where my family is actually originally from. After moving to Vancouver, food was one of the only ways that I felt I could connect with my culture. Every time we went to a Sichuanese restaurant, Bang Bang Chicken was a must-order dish for me, so it holds a really fond place in my heart. In the kitchen, my philosophy is not to worry too much about exacting authenticity, because what does that even really mean? Instead, let's focus on making delicious food. I'm all about being flexible while still respecting the dish you're making. If you don't have an ingredient, substitute it for something else that you do have which fills the same role. That's why today I'll show you the full recipe with all of the original ingredients, but I'll also give you suitable swaps for all of the specialty ingredients, so that even if you don't have all of them, you can still make a really satisfying version of this dish. Of course, the more substitutes that you do use, the further the final dish will be from the original. So I encourage you to do your absolute best to hunt down some of the ingredients. None of them are that obscure, and all are staples of Chinese cooking, which can be easily found in any Asian grocery store or online. With all of that said, let's get cooking. This dish is really only composed of three elements. Number one, the chicken, number two, the sauce, and number three, the garnishes, so cucumber and scallion. But there are key steps along the way that will make for the perfect outcome, and I'll take you through all of them. First off, we need to poach some tender, succulent, and flavorful chicken. Let's cut up about eight slices of ginger and roughly chop up four scallions. Throw half of the ginger and scallion into a medium-sized pot, and reserve the other half for later. The ginger and scallion help flavor the chicken, but they also serve to quixingwei, or help get rid of the unpleasant gaminess in meat. You'll find that ginger and scallion are often used for this purpose in Chinese cooking. Then add your chicken to the pot. I'm using chicken thighs because they tend to stay a little more tender due to a higher fat content, but you can substitute chicken breast if you prefer. No need to trim off any of the excess fat right now because we'll pull all of that off when shredding the chicken later. Easier to do that than to handle raw chicken. Add enough cold water to the pot to cover the chicken by about, say, an inch, and place on the stove over medium heat. So, why are we starting with cold water here? This way, the chicken gradually warms up with the water, allowing the chicken to cook more evenly throughout. Overall, we subject the chicken to less heat, which means juicier chicken. Wait for the water to just barely come to a simmer. When there are tiny bubbles sneaking up around the sides of the pot, turn off the heat. If you temp the water, it should be hovering around 180°F. Flip the chicken pieces over and let the whole thing steep off of the heat until the inside of the chicken reaches 165°F for thighs or 155°F for breast. Thighs have more connective tissue and fat, which need to be cooked to a higher temperature in order to soften, whereas the high heat will dry out leaner breast meat. If you don't have a thermometer, after turning off the heat, leave the chicken in the water for about 10 minutes and it should be good to go. Once done, remove the chicken from the water, then let it cool down slightly before shredding. But we'll get back to this later. While the chicken is cooking, we can start on the star of the show, the sauce. Sichuanese food is most famous for its spice, but that's actually a vast oversimplification. Real Sichuanese cooking is so much more nuanced than that. The art of Sichuanese cookery is taking bold flavors and artfully composing them to create a multitude of different flavor palettes. In fact, there are 24 distinct flavor profiles commonly used in Sichuanese cooking. The sauce we're making today falls into the Guaiwei flavor profile. Guaiwei literally translates to strange flavor. It's so called because it combines strong opposing flavors that shouldn't work together, but these flavors are so carefully balanced with each other that the end result is a flavor profile that you can't even put a name to because you can taste all of the flavors at once and there's not one that jumps out at you. In practice, this means that this dish is kind of a kitchen sink of every heavy-hitting flavor ingredient. Every chef has their own version. This is how I like to make mine. To start off, let's talk chili oil, the heart and soul of Sichuanese cooking. If you have a favorite store-bought brand of chili oil, preferably Sichuanese in origin, then feel free to use that. Otherwise, let me show you how to make an easy, small-batch chili oil that's not only good for this recipe, but also delicious on everything. This chili oil is made by pouring a flavorful hot oil over chili flakes plus some other seasonings. The hot oil toasts the chilies and extracts its spice, aroma, and color. Sichuanese chili flakes will give you the best result here, but if you don't have it, use whatever you have on hand, that will do. The end result won't be the exact same, but it'll still be delicious. Here I've got the Sichuanese chili flakes, which are unique due to their production process. Dried chilies are first fried in oil until crisp and fragrant before being ground down. This imparts extra flavor. It's nutty, slightly smoky, and actually not too spicy. The color is vibrantly red, which will impart a rich hue to the chili oil. Let's compare that to Korean gochugaru and Italian crushed red pepper flakes. Korean gochugaru is milder and not as spicy. It's got a deeper color, and traditionally it's sun-dried and has a slightly fruity, kind of sweet and smoky thing going on. Italian pepper flake, on the other hand, contains a lot of seeds. It's made of cayenne pepper, so it's actually the spiciest of the bunch, while having the most subtle flavor. Whatever chili flake you use, it'll improve with a dry roast to wake up all of the flavors. The easiest way to do this is actually with the microwave. Spread 3 tablespoons of chili flakes onto a small plate. Microwave at full power for 10 seconds, then microwave for another 10 seconds. The chili flakes will become fragrant, and you should now be able to smell them. Add chili flakes to a medium-sized, heat-safe bowl. Then add in 1 tablespoon of toasted sesame seeds, 1⁄8 teaspoon of Chinese five-spice powder, which is optional but will add flavor, and 1 teaspoon of ground Sichuan peppercorn, and set aside. Sichuan peppercorn. Okay. This is another hallmark of Sichuanese cooking that is used in, like, so, so many dishes. Its actual flavor is heady, woodsy, and with a lingering citrus overtone. But its trademark is the numbing sensation it creates on the tongue and lips. If you're not used to Sichuan peppercorn, feel free to reduce its amount by half throughout the recipe. I urge you to find Sichuan peppercorn because it truly is a main flavor component of this dish. But if you need to substitute, for 1 teaspoon of ground Sichuan peppercorn, use a half teaspoon of freshly ground black pepper, and a quarter teaspoon of ground coriander. Black pepper is woody and peppery, while coriander adds a citrusy, lemony flavor. This combination will sorta, kinda approximate some of the flavor of Sichuan peppercorn, but it will definitely not create the numbing sensation. Next, let's make a flavorful oil infused with aromatics as the base of our chili oil. To a small pot, add a half cup of neutral oil. Most vegetable oils will work, like canola, sunflower, or grapeseed. Throw in the reserved ginger and scallion we chopped up before, along with some whole spices. Here, I'm just using star anise and bay leaf. You can also add a cinnamon stick if you've got it. Alternatively, omit the spices altogether. Place the pan over medium heat. Our goal here is to lightly brown all of the aromatics and spices to extract their flavor into the oil. When the ginger gets golden, and the ends of the scallion greens are beginning to brown, turn off the heat. Set a timer now for 3 minutes. We need to let the oil cool down slightly so that we don't burn the chili flakes. After 3 minutes, strain out the aromatics. If you're using a thermometer, the oil should be hovering around 310-320°F. But if you don't have a thermometer, wait 3 minutes and it'll totally be fine to go since we're working with such small quantities here. Pour 1 third of the oil all over the chili flake mixture while stirring with a spoon. Stir and wait around 30-45 seconds before pouring the next third of the oil. Repeat, stir, and wait around for about 30ish seconds, and follow up with the last third of the oil. We pour in different stages, letting the oil cool slightly in between, because at different temperatures, different aspects of the chilis are brought out. In Chinese it is said 一香二红三辣, which means that the first pour at a high temp brings out the fragrance, the second pour at a medium temp brings out the color, and the third pour at a low temperature brings out the spice. Cover and let the oil infuse. For best results, make the chili oil the day before and allow it to steep overnight. But you can definitely also use it right away. Now let's make the sauce. This here is the artistic portion of the recipe. Like any great artist or musician, we have to use our senses to feel our way through the process, which means tasting and adjusting as we go. Remember, the goal is harmony of all of the flavors. Use this recipe as a guide, but please adjust it to your own taste. Once you get the hang of it, you won't even need to measure. When I'm throwing together a Sichuanese sauce, I basically keep adding stuff until the spirits of my ancestors tell me to stop. Of course, still taste and adjust, because sometimes even the spirits can be a little bit off the mark. First, add one tablespoon of vinegar to a medium-sized bowl. I'm using Chinese black vinegar, also known as 珍姜香醋, or Qingjiang vinegar. This vinegar is another distinctive ingredient in Chinese cooking. It's made by fermenting glutinous rice and has a complex flavor that is mildly acidic, deeply umami, malty, and lightly sweet. It's often compared to balsamic vinegar, and while similar, balsamic is lighter in flavor and also sweeter. However, balsamic does make for a worthy stand-in if you can't find black vinegar. If using balsamic, taste and modulate the sugar in the sauce to account for its sweetness. Next, add a half tablespoon or one and a half teaspoons of sugar. Stir well to dissolve as much sugar as possible. This way, we'll be able to accurately taste the sugar as we construct the sauce. Next, add one tablespoon light soy sauce and a half teaspoon kosher salt. Use a quarter teaspoon if you have finer sea salt or table salt. Stir until combined. Now, taste the sauce. This is called the diwei, or base flavor. The basic flavors of sour, sweet, and salty should all be in balance. If you like how it tastes, feel free to leave it as it is, or alternatively, add more of whatever you feel like is missing. I like my sauce slightly more tart, so I'm going to add a tiny splash more of black vinegar. With the chili oil, add four tablespoons of just the oil and one tablespoon of the sediment. Feel free to use more or less depending on your taste and the spice level of your chili oil. Add one teaspoon of ground Sichuan peppercorn. Remember, you can substitute black pepper plus coriander. And next up, a slightly controversial ingredient, MSG. If you have strong feelings about MSG, feel free to omit it, but just know it's kind of an important part of the sauce, adding that extra level of umami to boost all the other flavors. MSG has a terrible reputation, but did you know that it's found naturally in parmesan, dried mushrooms, anchovies, green tea, tomatoes, and many other foods? Personally, I feel like MSG suffers from a severe branding issue. It was first identified by a Japanese scientist and extracted from kelp. We should have just called it natural kelp essence from the very beginning to avoid all of this drama. Stir to combine and taste again, noting the extra umami, spice from the chili oil, and flavor plus sensation of the Sichuan peppercorn. Finally, add one tablespoon of Chinese sesame paste. This rounds out the sauce, but we add it last because it can kind of muddy our tasting of all the other flavors. Chinese sesame paste is different from tahini because the sesame seeds are deeply roasted before they are ground. It has a darker color and is stronger in flavor with a super toasty and nutty taste. Tahini has a raw sesame flavor which can be slightly bitter. Tahini is an alright substitute if you want to stay nut free. To add more flavor to the tahini, combine two teaspoons tahini with one teaspoon of toasted sesame oil. Alternatively, an even better substitute is actually peanut butter, which gets closer to the depth of Chinese sesame paste. I'm using a regular peanut butter here, but a natural peanut butter will work even better. Like with the tahini, combine two teaspoons of the smooth peanut butter with one teaspoon of toasted sesame oil. That's the mixture I have here. See how its color is so much closer to Chinese sesame paste? If using regular peanut butter, account for its sweetness by slightly reducing the added sugar in the sauce. Stir the sauce until fully emulsified and there aren't any more lumps of sesame paste. This may take a while, so just keep stirring until everything comes together and the sauce is smooth. The sesame paste adds body to the sauce, helping it cling to the chicken, coating each bite in flavor. Okay, we're so close to assembling this dish. Let's process the chicken. This part is actually the namesake of the dish. In Chinese, bang bang is pronounced bang bang and refers to a stick. The chicken is pounded with said stick, which helps loosen its fibers for shredding, allowing for a finer shred, helping the chicken to absorb even more sauce. Use a wooden dowel, rolling pin, or whatever else for this job. Lightly beat each piece of chicken until the meat fibers start separating. Then finely shred the chicken with your hands, doing your best to preserve longer strands. This will make for a better presentation. Now's our chance to get rid of any fatty bits, gristle, or anything that'll be unpleasant to eat. Naturally, chicken muscles will vary and some parts will only make really short bits. I like to keep two piles, one for the nice long strands and one for the more scrappy bits. When plating, the scraps will go on the bottom and the long strands will go on top. If you're impatient, you can also shred the chicken with two forks. This is faster, but the final texture won't be quite as nice. Finally, julienne some cucumber by slicing on a bias and then cutting into thin strips. Also, cut some scallion on a steep angle for garnish. Alright, let's assemble the bang bang chicken. Lay the julienne cucumber in a nice pile at the bottom of your serving plate. Then add the chicken, laying the longer shredded pieces over top. I like to arrange everything in a row because it looks really nice after you drizzle over the sauce. Pour on the gorgeously thick and shiny sauce all over the chicken. Look how the sauce perfectly smothers the chicken, deeply soaking into all the fibers, imbuing every nook and cranny with its flavor. Scatter on some additional sesame seeds, garnish with scallion, and voila, our bang bang chicken is done. Take in the simple beauty of this dish. Such vibrant flavors are tamed and captured in a bold and playful sauce. The flavors will dance upon your taste buds, quite literally because the Sichuan peppercorn will throw a party in your mouth. In every bite, you can taste deep nuttiness, the complexity of toasty chili oil, and satisfying salty umami, all balanced by sweetness and tartness, making for a rich and luxurious sauce that is somehow light and elegant at the same time. Personally, I don't know if I'd call this sauce strange flavor. It's more like, oh dang, I need another bite of this flavor. Now that I've eaten like half of this, uh, more than half, I will leave you here. I really do hope that you give this a try, and if you do, please comment below and let me know how it goes. Tag me on Instagram, I would love to see any photos, you'll find me right here. And as always, the full written recipe with all of the instructions and the ingredient mounts will be linked in the description. Thank you so much for joining me on another week of Sheldoh's Kitchen. Each week we make something exciting, delicious, and something that you'll be able to make at home, so I hope to see you again soon. Bye! I don't know, like, subscribe, comment? Oh, my knees! Okay, one last bite.