Press

EMei’s Szechuan plates marry numbing peppercorn heat, savoriness and fermented funk — thwarting any idea that the cuisine can be described solely by a whack-you-across-the-head shock of spice. We’re talking pieces of freshly fried Chongqing chicken that will make you wonder if you’re now the kind of person who fills your purse with Chongqing chicken (rightly assuming the crispy, crunchy pieces laced with dried Szechuan chilies might come in handy the next time you’re stuck in line at CVS or on the 42 bus or simply desperate to microdose the EMei experience). We’re talking mapo tofu, its cubes gathering in a thick, numbing sauce with momentary salt explosions from fermented black beans and rich ground pork. A whole grilled sea bass swimming in pickled pepper sauce with cabbage and bean sprouts. For all these reasons, the city is vastly better off with EMei in it. And we shouldn’t take the business for granted, especially given Chinatown’s recent challenges: pandemic-ignited anti-Asian racism, a slowdown in foot traffic, and a Sixers arena looming on the horizon.