Han Dynasty

Seek out Han and let him know you crave the genuine article and he morphs into an impresario extraordinaire, expounding on the differences between two schools of Szechuan cookery (the elegant cold dishes of the Chengdu capital versus the pure hellfire hot plates of Chongqing); explaining the impetus for this remote second outpost of his empire (a growing Chinese community drawn to nearby Collegeville's pharma industry), waxing ambitious about plans for a branch in West Philly, and an immediate project to grow authentic greens this summer at a Lancaster farm.

Han will also signal chef Zhon Chi Wei, a former culinary instructor in Sichuan, to bring on a banquet of blog-o-dacious proportions.

Ours began with an array of cold dishes whose chilly temp belied the chile fire of their orange-hued seasoning - each one slightly different. There was a lip-numbing starting nibble of pickled broccoli stems and carrots to begin, followed by the textural treat of that fu qi fei pian, whose velvety tongue ribbons and frilly tripe strips were even better than I imagined.

The unusual Chengdu green bean noodles had a note of vinegar added to the spice, a tang that heightened the bouncy texture of this unusual translucent pasta made from powdered green beans. The sublimely tender chunks of rabbit had a touch of fermented black bean paste to cut the meat's grassy taste, but the beans also added a creaminess to its peanutty chile glaze.

There were some welcome respites from the spice. A Taiwanese-style West Lake soup brought a small dice of vegetables and ground beef to a velvety egg-drop broth that sparkled with white pepper. The crunchy snap of baby bok choy with chewy shiitake mushrooms was like a cleansing chlorophyll rinse.

There were other relatively mild dishes - frogs with pickled vegetables, braised pork belly, and a whole tilapia in hot bean sauce - but none impressed me enough to merit a reorder.

The rest of our meal, though, was dialed to an addictively vibrant Code Orange, and the appropriate taste-bud sirens were wailing with double happiness. The hot pepper chicken was a real brow-mopper, its crispy cubes of moist meat (triple-flash-fried, but not breaded) stoking the coals with dried and fresh chiles. The ma pao tofu contrasted the heat of its sauce with the custardlike softness of its silky bean-curd cubes.

Some of my favorites, though, layered other flavors inside the heat. The tea-smoked duck hit a new level of complexity when simmered in a dry pot mini-wok filled with beer, baby bamboo shoots, and hot bean paste. The cumin-crusted lamb I sampled at our first meal, a northern Chinese riff on Indian flavors, landed like a cumin pleasure bomb on my palate, and lingered for the entire trip back down Route 422.

So I missed the actual eGullet party that led me here. But it was the tastiest invitation - so far - that I haven't been able to accept.

Next Sunday, restaurant critic Craig LaBan reviews Lucky 13 Pub in South Philadelphia. Contact him at 215-854-2682 or claban@phillynews.com.