The pavement outside of Sichuan Street Food in Pasadena is peppered with xiao ban deng (little plastic stools), a hallmark of roadside stalls in Chengdu or Chongqing in the Chinese province of Sichuan. Even though the restaurant opened back in May 2024, a large crowd waited patiently on a recent Saturday afternoon, including a few people near the front sitting on the stools, eager to taste dishes like kou shui ji (cold chicken doused in chiles) and stir-fried lamb with cumin.

Sichuan Street Food’s chef, Yong “Leo” Zhu, trained in the Chengdu restaurant scene for two decades, starting off as a dishwasher and busboy before slowly working his way up to an apprentice on the wok. Zhu spent years sweating over the flames at Kao Jiang, a restaurant franchise in Chengdu specializing in pan-roast fish. The 1,000-foot space drew a loyal following, with diners waiting in lines for their signature mouth-numbing fish. A Shanghai restaurateur took notice of Zhu’s skill and asked if he would be interested in bringing his talents to America. “I was really nervous,” said Zhu. “I was worried; how would I survive there?” But with confidence in his skills and a strong belief in himself, Zhu struck out to try his fortunes in Pasadena.

In the early 2010s, the Sichuan Renaissance in Los Angeles was spearheaded by the likes of Chengdu Taste and Sichuan Impression; the latter recently passed its 10-year mark, featuring such classics as boiled fish in rattan pepper and fu qi fei pian (sliced beef in chile sauce) on its anniversary special menu. The Sichuan scene has expanded to include specialists such as Mian in San Gabriel, which makes Chongqing-style noodle dishes, and hot pot restaurants like Shancheng Lameizi in Rowland Heights and HaiDiLao in Century City.

Sichuan Street Food, whose Chinese name translates more closely to “Contemporary Sichuan Food,” is the latest Sichuan generalist led by an established Chengdu chef. The two-story space opens onto a handful of tables on the main floor, with stairs rising past the aromatic kitchen into a small mezzanine level. Some tables can be heard bantering in the rapid-fire Sichuan dialect over the noise of three sizzling woks, which almost never stop firing off meat cooked in chiles.

While the menu includes Sichuan dishes that may be more familiar to Western audiences (dan dan mian, mapo tofu), it’s also dotted with the regional cuisine’s deeper cuts. Mama’s pork trotters soup comes filled with chewy, fatty chunks of pig’s feet steeped in a mild bean-based broth. Small bowls of chile oil sauce come on the side as a dip for the feet, whose peelable skin is an ideal vessel for spice. Celtuce, a Chinese vegetable whose stems taste like a cross between celery and asparagus, can be ordered stir-fried with the briny, almost crunchy texture of twice-cooked pork belly.

But Zhu isn’t always set on presenting the most traditional version of each dish; he’s willing to evolve and change based on customer feedback, noting that people here like a little more sugar, a little less ma —Sichuan cuisine’s patented numbing sensation. Early on, diners told Zhu that his cold dishes were too salty. He checked in with chefs back home for their recipes; he kept adjusting and tinkering anytime a customer gave a negative review.

“Americans are easier to please. Chinese eaters tend to be picky and have high requirements,” says Zhu. He can often tell, based on the ticket, whether the table is filled with Chinese or non-Chinese diners. If the order includes kung pao chicken and dan dan noodles, the group likely isn’t predominantly Chinese. If it includes bullfrog or pig kidney, there’s probably at least one Chinese person at the table.

Indeed, the restaurant’s piece de resistance is the bullfrog with Sichuan pepper and chiles. A large pot teeming with angry red broth arrives on a mini burner. Inside, three frogs have been butchered into various parts, including legs and bellies, and cooked in the signature spicy oils of Sichuan chiles, covering a treasure trove of bean sprouts and hong shu fen (potato noodles) underneath. The texture of the frog meat is smooth and soft, coming apart easily from the bone. The frog legs are especially fun finger food, eating like chicken wings. The bullfrog also comes in two other styles: one in rattan pepper broth with a numbing flavor, and the other in dry, stir-fried form with the house special mix of chiles.

Zhu has been careful to source the right ingredients, including bullfrogs, which are imported from China. The stir-fried pig kidney with veggies, peppers and chile often sells out when the restaurant closes, but leftover kidneys will be cooked for the staff; none of them will be served the next day. And while some of their spices are imported from China, all the sauces are prepared on the premises.

“I had a lot of faith in myself, and I wanted to test out whether I could do it or not,” said Zhu about his decision to jump into the Sichuan scene in Los Angeles. “I want to make sure the customers are satisfied. To me, my hard work has paid off when the customer is happy.”

Sichuan Street Food is located at 1035 E. Green Street, Pasadena, CA 91106. (626) 977-7000. It’s open Mondays, Wednesdays through Saturday from 11 a.m. – 2:30 p.m.; 5 – 9:30 p.m., and on Sunday from 11:30 a.m. – 3 p.m.; 5 – 9 p.m. Closed on Tuesdays.