Sichuan Style Stir-Fried Chinese Long Beans

Sichuan Style Stir-Fried Chinese Long Beans

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Long and crunchy Chinese green beans! Quickly stir-fried Sichuan style with red chilies, Sichuan peppercorns, and sesame oil. Takes only 10 minutes to cook!

Photography Credit:Elise Bauer

Ever order Chinese long beans at a Chinese restaurant? So so good. Guest author Garrett McCord shows us how to cook them up quickly, Sichuan style. ~Elise

What are Chinese Long Beans?

Chinese long beans (also called Chinese green beans, yard-long beans, and chopstick beans) are a staple vegetable in much of Southeastern Asia.

While they can be eaten raw, they’re often thrown in stir-fries, curries, and omelettes.

They taste like the European-American style of green beans but the flavor is sharper and they have a crunchier texture.

Incredibly healthy and now widely available in most supermarkets, Farmers’ Markets, and Asian markets, Chinese long beans are a wonderul option for adding to main courses or using for simple side dishes.

How to Cook Chinese Long Beans

I love to prepare Chinese long beans in a Sichuanese style using Sichuan peppercorns and dried chilies (preferably, a Chinese variety).

First we quickly stir fry the chilies and peppercorns in peanut oil to bring out their flavors. Then we add the long beans to the hot pan, and stir-fry for just a few minutes.

To finish we take the pan off the heat and toss with a little dark sesame oil and soy sauce. Easy!

Sichuan Style Stir-Fried Chinese Long Beans Recipe

Chinese long beans can be found in both green and purple varieties. Both have similar flavors and textures, and either kind can be used for this recipe.


  • 1/2 pound Chinese long beans, trimmed and cut into 3 inch segments
  • 1 tablespoon peanut oil
  • 4-6 dried chilies, preferably Sichuanese, roughly chopped
  • 1 teaspoon whole Sichuan peppercorns, lightly crushed
  • 1/4 teaspoon salt
  • 1/2 teaspoon sugar
  • 3 teaspoons sesame oil
  • Splash of soy sauce (use gluten-free soy sauce for gluten-free option)


1 Add a tablespoon of peanut oil to a wok or a large sauté pan over medium heat and swirl until hot. Add chilies and peppers and stir-fry briefly until fragrant.

2 Add the long beans and stir-fry vigorously for 3-4 minutes (you don't want the spices to burn, if they start to then turn down the heat a bit). Season with salt and sugar and stir-fry a few seconds more to mix it all together.

3 Remove from heat. Stir in the sesame oil and soy sauce. Serve immediately.

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Easy Sichuan Dry-Fried Green Beans (Gan Bian Si Ji Dou) Without a Wok Recipe

Gan Bian Si Ji Dou—Sichuan-style dry-fried green beans with chilies and pickles—are one of the best and most mistranslated vegetable dishes in the world. The real version should be bright and light, featuring beans with blistered skins and snappy interiors, and tossed with chili-flavored oil, Sichuan peppercorns, scallions, garlic, ginger, and chopped preserved mustard root. It's a pretty far cry from the oily, drab, pork-smothered versions you find in Chinese take-out joints. Today gan bian si ji and I are on a road trip back to authenticity, and we're going to be driving that minibus over some uncharted territory.

Note: Sichuan peppercorns can be found in most Asian markets or spice markets or ordered online. Discard any dark black seeds or stems before using (use the reddish brown husks only). Preserved mustard stems can be found at a well-stocked Asian grocer either in a fresh refrigerated bulk bin or in cans, or it can be ordered whole or shredded online. If you can't find them, a mixture of 2 1/2 tablespoons minced mild kimchi and 1/2 a tablespoon of minced capers will work in its place.


  • 1 pack long beans (250 gr), trimmed
  • 4 cloves garlic, finely chopped
  • 3 cloves shallot, finely chopped
  • 1 onion, thinly sliced
  • 2 cm ginger , finely chopped
  • 1 1/2 tsp chili flakes/ 1 tbsp finely chopped fresh deseeded chili
  • 1 tsp cornstarch, dissolved with 1 tbsp water
  • 1 tbsp oyster sauce
  • 1 tsp soy sauce
  • 2 tbsp oil
  • 100 gr regular minced/ground beef
  • 100 gr regular minced/ground chicken

Stir Fried Fava Beans with Szechuan Peppercorns


  • ▢ 1 pound fresh fava beans (or frozen ones, defrosted 450g)
  • ▢ 1 tablespoon Sichuan peppercorns (aka Szechuan peppercorns)
  • ▢ 3 tablespoons scallions (finely chopped)
  • ▢ 5 dried chilis
  • ▢ 2 cloves garlic (finely chopped)
  • ▢ 2 tablespoons oil
  • ▢ 2 tablespoons water
  • ▢ ½ teaspoon salt (or to taste)
  • ▢ ¼ teaspoon ground white pepper
  • ▢ ½ teaspoon sesame oil
  • ▢ 1 tablespoon Shaoxing wine


Nutrition facts

Nutritional info disclaimer

TheWoksofLife.com is written and produced for informational purposes only. While we do our best to provide nutritional information as a general guideline to our readers, we are not certified nutritionists, and the values provided should be considered estimates. Factors such as brands purchased, natural variations in fresh ingredients, etc. will change the nutritional information in any recipe. Various online calculators also provide different results, depending on their sources. To obtain accurate nutritional information for a recipe, use your preferred nutrition calculator to determine nutritional information with the actual ingredients and quantities used.

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Sichuan Dry Fried Green Beans (干煸四季豆)

Blistered and charred green beans are tossed with an aromatic sauce, making this Sichuan dry fried green beans dish too good to pass up, and it’s substantial enough to serve as a main.

Sichuan fermented pickled mustard greens (or Sui Mi Ya Cai). It adds sweetness and a super umami to the dish to make it irresistible.

Why go to all this trouble to make a veggie dish, you ask.

Well, that’s just the way real-deal Chinese food works and why it tastes so good. Because it cooks vegetables in a way that enhance their texture and flavor. Then it uses tons of aromatics, spices, and fermented goodies to add a deep, rich fragrance.

Taking the Sui Mi Ya Cai as an example. The mustard greens are hand pickled, sliced, and dried. Then they are seasoned with salt and packed into ceramic pots to ferment for three to six months. After the first fermentation, they are boiled with brown sugar for eight to nine hours and then hung out to dry once more. In the final stage, these greens are sealed again with star anise, Sichuan peppercorns, and other spices, for another three to six months.

Imagine adding a year’s worth of veggie essence to one green bean dish!

When I hosted foreign colleagues and friends back in China, I took countless people to experience real Sichuan food. The spicy chicken and Dan Dan noodles might be the most famous ones. But at the end of the day, vegetable dishes like these dry fried green beans and Sichuan eggplant always won everybody over, and became their new favorite dishes.

@omnivorescookbook on Instagram! I’d love to see what you come up with.

The texture of these green beans are different than most steamed green beans you’ll find because they’re sautéed before the rest of the ingredients are added leading to the tender sort of shrunken texture you love but don’t normally get to have when you steam veggies or boil them for a couple of minutes to get them crisp tender. The method used for cooking these green beans is called dry-frying but in reality it is just about cooking them in a hot wok until they have the texture of being deep fried. Much less oil is used and wasted and the outcome is absolutely delicious.

Plus even with the cooking ahead of time, within 10 minutes these green beans are completely done and ready to eat.

They’re a similar style of green bean to the ever popular P.F. Chang’s Spicy Green Beans, the flavors here are not fermented as they are at P.F. Chang’s which lets the sauce ingredients rest overnight before being added to the pan.

If you are looking for the P.F. Chang’s copycat recipe look no further than my friend Allyson’s blog at Domestic Superhero who has an amazing copycat recipe for the P.F. Chang’s Spicy Green Beans.

Looking for some Chinese Food to add to the menu to go along with these Spicy Chinese Sichuan Green Beans then look no further than this blog. There is an entire recipe index for every single Panda Express Recipe on their menu.

If you want P.F. Chang’s recipes there are Chicken Lettuce Wraps, Garlic Noodles and Orange Peel Chicken. There are also a huge number of other Chinese Food recipes on the blog that aren’t copycats for you to enjoy.

Basically make these amazing Spicy Chinese Sichuan Green Beans pick out a delicious main course and you’re on your way to a restaurant worthy meal.

Tools used in the making of these Spicy Chinese Sichuan Green Beans:
Soy Sauce: Nothing much to say here except Kikkoman has the best flavor overall and I always recommend reduced sodium.
Wok: Great for high heat, quick cooking. This wok is a great addition to your kitchen if you love cooking Chinese food or stir fries in general.
Chili Garlic Paste: This is like a non blended version of Sriracha, you can add it to the pan and it gives a heat while maintaining the little chunks of chili peppers you see in the photos. If you need to use Sriracha as a replacement it isn’t a huge deal but just realize the photos/food will look different.
Rice Vinegar: There is a unique flavor to rice vinegar so I wouldn’t suggest trying to use a substitute. It is a tiny hint of a sweet flavor but also very mellow. You can find it locally in most grocery stores in the Asian food aisle and most Asian grocers will have 50+ varieties of it. Keep a bottle on hand, it has a wonderful flavor.

Dry-fried Sichuan string beans

Green beans that grow a yard long and also come in purple melons that look like spiny cucumbers and when ripe turn bright orange, with huge pomegranate-red seeds squash that can be eaten like zucchini when it’s young or used as a bath sponge later -- can this really be a farm in Fresno?

That is where we are, and yard-long beans, bitter melon and loofah are growing in profusion, along with gai lan, daikon, eggplants of every color and shape, and exotic mints, basils and other herbs. So are tender green shoots of pea plants and ong choy (water spinach).

As America has fallen in love with the flavors of Asian cooking, ingredients that once had to be searched out in the markets and restaurants of ethnic neighborhoods are now showing up in the mainstream -- at farmers markets, supermarkets and even chain restaurants.

Fresno County is the epicenter of this revolution, and immigrant Laotian farmers -- refugees from the CIA’s “secret war” against the Communists in the 1970s -- are the ones who started it.

They began by growing a few things that gave them a taste of the homeland they were driven from, and wound up with a booming business supplying our ever-increasing fascination with these new flavors.

The category that the Fresno County Agricultural Commissioner’s office calls “Oriental vegetables” accounted for $10.3 million in sales in 2003, up from $7.3 million the year before. There are more than 700 Asian-owned family farms in Fresno County and roughly 90% of them are Laotian.

Radio farm reports, that staple of rural life, are now broadcast all over the Central Valley in Hmong and Lao by Michael Yang, a program representative for the University of California’s Cooperative Extension Service and a Hmong immigrant.

So far the star of the Laotian farming community is Cherta Farms, owned by the Lee family. Started by two Hmong brothers growing cherry tomatoes, it today supplies more than 150 produce items. The Lees own downtown Fresno’s historic wholesale fruit and produce building, a gigantic brick shipping facility that was built in 1903. Huge, refrigerated rooms that once held the county’s wealth of grapes and peaches are now stacked with cases of loofah squash and Thai eggplant.

Most Laotian farmers have not been as successful. Poverty is endemic, with many farmers barely scratching out a living, farming tiny plots shoehorned into the gaps between the new housing developments in Fresno’s booming suburban fringe. Though these families grew vegetables for generations in Laos, they still need to learn the fundamentals of farming in America -- how to use chemicals safely and how to drive a tractor straight.

“Farming here is very different than in Laos,” says UC’s Yang. “There, it’s basically just slash-and-burn agriculture. You clear a field, plant it and harvest it and then move on to the next one. There’s no machinery, there’s no pesticides. Anything that needs to be done, you do it by hand. There’s no irrigation -- you just wait for the next monsoon.”

Yang’s job is to help Laotians make the transition. A short and slightly stocky man with a quiet, soft-spoken demeanor, he seems much like any other county extension agent except that when he steps into the sun, he pulls on not a baseball cap, with a seed company logo, but a conical straw hat.

Yang’s family immigrated in 1980, when he was 8 years old. His father, like many Hmongs, was a farmer who had been recruited by the CIA to help fight the Communists in the mountains of Laos.

When the Americans pulled out, the Communists took over and his father was killed. As the oldest son, it fell to Michael to help guide his mother and brothers and sisters through the jungle, evading the Communist soldiers, to Thailand and safety in the relocation camps.

At one point he was bitten by a 2-foot-long centipede and was certain he was going to die. He asked his mother to leave him behind, but she insisted on carrying him on her back for three days until he could begin to walk again. (His story is typical of other Laotian immigrants. The crowded apartment complex behind Fresno’s popular Asian Village shopping mall is colloquially called Ban Vinai after the main Thai relocation camp.)

Much of Yang’s work is done at the Hmong American Community educational farm. The 20-acre farm is divided in half, with separate fields for the lowland Lao and mountain Hmong farmers. Operations manager Kevin Lee (a cousin of the Cherta Farms family who is not involved in that business) says this is because the two tribes prefer different vegetables, but there is well-documented friction between the groups as well.

Under a sweltering August sun, the Hmong side looks bare. It has just been planted with cool-weather leafy vegetables and herbs that will grow through the winter: bok choy, gai lan, water spinach and nappa cabbage as well as various kinds of mint and basil.

The Lao side is in full production. Trellises like the ones their Central Valley neighbors might use for table grapes are garlanded with bitter melon, long beans and loofah -- both the smooth and the more flavorful sharp-cornered varieties. There are rows of long, lavender Chinese eggplant and the small, round, green Thai ones.

New vegetables are added every season, some from families’ private seed collections. Indeed, some items are so obscure that Yang says they have to be sent to UC Davis for genotyping to be identified.

“As more Asians settle in the area, they look for the things they remember from their homeland,” says Yang. “Farmers try a little bit here and there. They’ll grow a couple of rows and if it goes well, they’ll save the seeds and eventually plant a couple of acres. Then that goes from farm to farm and pretty soon it’s all over the county.”

There is a financial imperative too. Even as demand for Asian ingredients grows, small farmers find it difficult to compete against larger operations in the U.S. and Mexico. So Laotian growers are constantly looking for an edge with niche products -- things the bigger farms haven’t yet discovered.

While most of this produce will go through normal distribution channels, much of it will be sold at farmers markets up and down the state. Fresno farmers travel as far as San Diego and San Francisco -- as much as six hours each way -- to sell their crops. According to the agricultural inspector’s office, of the roughly 300 certified farmers market growers in Fresno County, half are Asian.

It’s a matter of simple economics, says Kevin Lee. At wholesale, a 30-pound case of eggplant might sell for $6. At the farmers market, you might get $1 a pound. “This is another thing we have to teach,” says Lee. “In Laos, people farm only to feed their families. Here, we have to teach them to sell.”

Alot of the produce will be sold at Fresno’s Hmong groceries as well. Unlike most markets, which get their fruits and vegetables from wholesalers, here there is a lot of direct selling between farmers and stores.

Outside a Hmong market one cool, early morning, an older woman in a faded cotton housedress unloads bundles of the day’s fragile pea, pumpkin and cassava shoots from the back of her station wagon. Inside, shoppers wait patiently for the delivery.

These groceries are treasure troves for fans of Asian food. Low counters are piled high with half a dozen types of eggplants pale green, dark green and purple long beans taro roots, stems and leaves bags of different mixes of fresh herbs mountain potatoes bitter melons fresh galangal and turmeric roots. Sichuan peppercorns, nearly vanished for the last several years after a ban on their importation (to prevent the spread of fruit canker), are sold here, sealed in household plastic bags. Not only are dried ones available, but fresh as well, packed with their leaves, which the Hmong rub on aching joints to relieve arthritis, Yang says.

While you certainly won’t find these at your local supermarket or chain restaurant today, who knows what tomorrow might bring. Baby bok choy and daikon radish, which seem to be everywhere today, were considered exotic only five years ago. Maybe soon it will be Chinese broccoli and long beans. Can fuzzy melon be far behind?

This quiet introduction of new ingredients is guerrilla marketing at its best, says Tristan Millar, director of marketing and business development for Frieda’s, the Los Alamitos-based national produce wholesaler. The company that introduced America to the kiwi fruit and the doughnut peach also has a long list of more than 30 Asian vegetables that includes arrowroot and yu choy sum, a kind of flowering mustardy green.

"[The farmers] start with their local markets and what sells well they grow more of and sell at farmers markets. When chefs try them at farmers markets, then they come to us,” says Millar.

That’s tomorrow’s dream. For now, bouncing around Fresno in his dusty 1983 Toyota, the air conditioner straining against the 106-degree heat, Yang is focused on the present and helping other Laotians attain the kind of lifestyle he enjoys.

After more than 20 years in this country, he says he has finally stopped having nightmares about the jungle and his family’s exodus. “I am working now on being happy for the things I have -- for my family, my community and my job.”

Yang turns down a dirt road and stops beside a verdant plot, not more than an acre and a half. At the far end you can see the fat stalks of sugar cane. Before that you can see the elephant ear leaves of taro and what looks like tall grass.

But it’s not what Yang sees that he wants to share. Instead, it’s what he smells. That grass is rice, a specially prized variety traditionally grown in the Laotian highlands, Yang says. In another month it will be harvested and sold for a very good price to one of the local markets, or to a restaurant. Who knows? Maybe someday, you’ll even be able to buy it at your neighborhood grocery.

But now it sits baking in the Fresno sun, giving off a heavenly aroma that smells to an outsider like the very best basmati. For a Hmong, it is a more particular fragrance -- like a mother’s scent, like the future and the past combined.

Yang stands at the edge of the field, closes his eyes and breathes in, deeply, over and over again.

From farmers market to supermarket, there’s an incredible range of Asian vegetables available today. Here’s a primer, from the familiar to the exotic. But be aware that they may be called by many different names.

Bitter melon (foo qua): This cucumber-looking squash is often described as an “acquired taste.” Its quinine-like bitterness mellows somewhat in cooking. There are two kinds: -- one smooth-skinned, the other covered with sharp spines. To prepare, cut in half lengthwise and scoop out the seeds and core.

Bok choy: A heart-shaped cabbage with prominent stems, it can be steamed or cooked in soups or stir-fries. Baby bok choy, also called Shanghai bok choy, is milder and more tender.

Chinese broccoli (gai lan): A stalky, mild broccoli similar in appearance to “broccolini.” It can be steamed or cooked in stir-fries.

Chinese flowering cabbage (choy sum): One of the most beloved of the Asian greens, this has slim stalks with large green leaves and a sweetly mustard-y flavor. It can be eaten raw or quickly cooked. Yu choy sum is a close relative.

Chinese radish (lo bok): This football-shaped relative of the daikon has a milder, sweeter flavor.

Chives (nira): Frequently sold with flower bulbs at the top, Asian chives are fatter than those from the West but have a similar, pronounced onion flavor. Yellow nira are grown under cover so they never develop any green color. Their flavor is milder but more garlicky.

Chrysanthemum leaves (tung ho): Though they resemble the leaves from the familiar flower, these come from a different variety. Asian cooking teacher Bruce Cost describes the flavor perfectly as “musty-floral.” They can be eaten raw, or blanched quickly.

Daikon: A giant, pure-white radish with a sweet-hot flavor. It can be served raw or cooked.

Eggplants: The most common Asian varieties are the long, dark purple “Japanese” long lavender “Chinese” and small, round, marbled-green “Thai.”

Fuzzy melon (moqua): With a delicately sweet flavor like a cross between a cucumber and a summer squash, fuzzy melon gets its name from its covering of very fine hairs (it must be peeled before cooking). There are two types with similar flavors: one long and cylindrical, the other shorter and rounder.

Lemongrass: Looking like a bunch of straw, lemongrass releases its familiar haunting citrus perfume when it is smashed and cooked.

Long beans (dow gok): Though these look like super-sized green beans, they are actually more closely related to black-eyed peas, and they have a similar flavor. Frequently called “yard-long beans,” they are usually harvested at closer to 18 inches. They are fairly tender but will hold up to extended cooking in soups or stews. There are three types: pale green, dark green and vivid purple (which, sadly, turns green with cooking).

Loofah (sin qua): Silk squash, an alternate name, probably better describes this gourd. When harvested young, it has a silky texture and sweet, almost zucchini-like flavor. When left to mature, the inside turns into the familiar bath “sponge.” There are two kinds: one smooth and one with sharp, angled ridges. Most people prefer the flavor of the angled variety, though the ridges must be thoroughly peeled before cooking.

Nappa cabbage: This pale, crinkly cabbage, the size and shape of a fat head of romaine, has a sweet flavor and crisp texture.

Pea tendrils (dou miao): The very young shoots of pea plants, these have a mild, very green, sweet pea flavor. They are used raw or cooked quickly.

Water spinach (ong choy or kang kong): One of the more delicate and delicious Asian greens, both the leaves and stems are eaten. Connoisseurs recognize two kinds: one is grown in water, the other on land. The water variety, which has rounder leaves, is considered more delicate.

Winter melon (dong qua): These gourds are huge, frequently weighing more than 30 pounds, and look like blue-green boulders covered with a light frost. The flavor is mild and faintly sweet. Sometimes the outside of the melon is carved with designs and the whole thing is used as a tureen for soup.

Sichuan Dry-Fried Green Beans

I first attempted making Sichuan dry-fried green beans 5 years ago while living in Beijing. Night after night I would have these delicious crispy green beans at Sichuan restaurants alongside dishes like mapo tofu and kung pao chicken, and finally decided I needed to try making them on my own. The results of my first experiments were less than impressive, to put it mildly. Then help came from a fellow blogger back home in NY.

Years later, I still make dry-fried green beans with the same time-tested method, varying the ingredients ever so slightly. Here is a revised all-vegetarian recipe featured in my new cookbook.

Dried-fried green beans is one of my favorite side dishes to order in Sichuan restaurants. In contrast to crisp haricot verts or mushy microwaved diner-style beans, Sichuan-style green beans are blistered and well-cooked without being bland. With Sichuan peppercorns and dried chillis adding spice and smokiness to the flavor profile, this dish becomes positively addictive.

However, no matter how many times I tried to recreate the dish at home, I ended up either burning the green beans before they got cooked, or dumping some water in order to save the beans, the latter which defeats the purpose of dry-frying. For help, I finally emailed Kian from Red Cook. He said that his method is using a fair amount of oil and constantly stirring the beans to get them cooked without burning. Almost like deep-frying. No wonder the green beans in restaurants taste so good.

Some recipes I found also eschew the dried red chills and Sichuan peppercorn, but I find the extra spice adds a needed smoky dimension to the final dish.

Remember to dry your green beans well before cooking. Nothing ruins an appetite like splotchy painful burn marks on your arms from splattering oil.

The 5 or 6 minutes of shallow-frying are important: they allow the green beans to develop not only the characteristic wrinkled and blistery surface, but also a deep, caramelized flavor.

This dry-frying technique lends itself to so many ways to cook green beans. I'm thinking porcini mushrooms and rosemary for an Italian-style crispy green bean dish in the future.

Sichuan Dry-Fried Green Beans

  • 3/4 pound green beans
  • 1/4 cup peanut or vegetable oil
  • 5 or 6 dried red chilies
  • 1/4 teaspoon ground Sichuan pepper
  • 1 tablespoon minced garlic
  • 1 teaspoon minced or grated fresh ginger
  • 3 scallions, white parts only, thinly sliced
  • 4 ounces fresh shiitake or cremini mushrooms, finely chopped
  • 1 1/2 teaspoons Chinese rice wine or dry sherry
  • 1 1/2 teaspoons chili bean sauce
  • 1/2 teaspoon sesame oil
  • 1 teaspoon sugar
  • 1/2 teaspoon salt, plus more to taste
  1. Rinse the green beans and dry them thoroughly even a small amount of water will cause oil in the wok to spit. Cut the beans into 2-inch lengths.
  2. Prepare the sauce: In a small bowl, stir together the rice wine, chili bean sauce, sesame oil, sugar, and salt until the sugar is dissolved. Set aside.
  3. Heat a wok or large skillet over high heat until a bead of water sizzles and evaporates on contact. Add the peanut oil and swirl to coat the bottom. Add the green beans and stir-fry, keeping the beans constantly moving, for 5 to 6 minutes, or until the outsides begin to blister and the beans are wilted. Turn off the heat, remove the green beans, and set aside to drain on a plate lined with paper towels.
  4. Remove all but 1 tablespoon of oil and reheat the wok. Add the chilies, Sichuan pepper, garlic, ginger, and scallions and stir-fry until fragrant, about 30 seconds. Add the mushrooms and stir-fry for another 1 minute, until the mushrooms have browned and started to crisp. Add the sauce. Return the green beans to the wok and stir-fry for another 1 minute. Transfer to a plate and serve hot.

Recipe first published August 11, 2008. Revised June 10, 2013.


    1. Preparing the ingredients: Wash the green beans, drain thoroughly, and trim the tops and bottoms. Cut the green beans on the diagonal into slices approximately 2 inches long. Chop the garlic, ginger and scallions. Dry-Frying: Heat 1 tablespoon oil over medium heat. Add the green beans and stir-fry until they start to shrivel or "pucker" and turn brown (6 to 7 minutes for longbeans). Remove the green beans from the wok and drain in a colander. Cooking the aromatics: Heat 1 tablespoon oil in the wok on high heat. Add the garlic, ginger and scallions. Stir-fry for a few seconds, then add the chili paste and stir-fry for a few more seconds until aromatic. Assembling: Add the green beans and the dark soy sauce, sugar, salt, and pepper if using. Stir everything together, and taste and adjust the seasoning if desired. Serve hot.

    Step By Step Instructions

    You can make this recipe in a wok or in a large pot. I used a large pot as I don't have a lid for my wok (yes, you need a pan with a lid). You can also use a large cast iron skillet or dutch oven. So basically, you can use any large pot with a lid!

    Start by toasting the Sichuan peppercorns over medium heat in a skillet, stirring often to prevent burning. Once they become fragrant, remove them from the heat.

    Using a spice grinder or a mortar and pestle, grind the peppercorns. Set them aside.

    Remove all the stems from the green beans and rinse them in cold water. Heat the coconut oil over medium heat in a large pot or wok and add the green beans.

    Cook them for about 8 minutes, stirring periodically.

    Add the ginger, garlic and ground Sichuan peppercorns and cook until the garlic and ginger is light brown (about 1-2 minutes). Stir often to prevent the garlic and ginger from burning.

    Add the soy sauce, salt and chili garlic sauce and stir to combine. Cover and cook for about 5-7 minutes, stirring periodically to prevent burning. Reduce the heat if the chili starts to burn.

    Remove from heat and serve. Scroll down for some more Chinese dishes to serve these with.

    Another commonly used authentic ingredient for this dish is called fermented pickled mustard greens ( Sui Mi Ya Cai / 碎米芽菜 ). Nevertheless, it is hard to get outside of China. If you manage to purchase it from the grocery store or online, use it as the alternative to the olive vegetable. It has a pleasant savory taste and is an authentic Sichuan ingredient.

    The olive vegetable is available in the supermarket in Hong Kong and Kuala Lumpur as opposed to the Sui Mi Ya Cai. It should be easier to get if you are living outside of China. (Note: It is called &lsquoOlive vegetable 橄欖菜) on the label, but it is actually mustard green pickles.)

    Another alternative is the preserved vegetable called Zhai Cai 榨菜, which is available online from Amazon.

    If you cannot get either one of the preserved vegetables, omit it and increase the amount of salt slightly in the recipe, since the olive vegetable is salty. However, try to get any of the preserved vegetables as it adds zest to the Chinese green beans recipe.

    Watch the video: China town in Greece: A bridge between the culture gap (May 2022).