Chongqing Chicken With Chilies (Laziji, 辣子鸡)
Published Apr 10, 2015, Updated Apr 07, 2026
Chengdu Challenge #17: Chongqing Hot Chicken
Below is a photo of the very first plate of Chongqing chicken—sometimes called 辣子鸡 (làzǐjī), or just chicken with chilies—I ever had. It was in Chengdu in 2007, in a famous, upscale restaurant. When the server put it down on the table, my husband and I broke into nervous laughter as we saw chunks of fried chicken sitting under an avalanche of dried chili peppers. If we were sweating now, we thought, wait until we try to polish this dish off so as not to embarrass ourselves as wimpy Americans.
But like many dishes in Sichuan, this one’s looks were deceiving. Though this Chongqing chicken was glammed up with chili peppers in a ratio of about 10 whole chilies to one small chunk of chicken, the dish was not explosively hot but merely nicely spiced, like a gorgeous, intimidating woman who turns out to be your loveable new best friend.
Following the Chinese imperative that food look good and smell good before it taste good, the large ruby chilies glistened and their lightly scorched aroma blended with that of abundant Sichuan pepper to entice and delight us before we ever sank our teeth into the chicken.
The only bummer to the dish as it’s served in China is that you can’t really sink your teeth into the chicken because it is almost always more bone than chicken. Traditionally, Chongqing cooks whack up a whole, quite small chicken, bones and all. The Chinese like this, because they like to gnaw on a bone to get to the meat. But I’m American, so I prefer a nice chunk of bone-free chicken meat. At least we were smart enough to realize that you don’t actually eat the peppercorns or chilies (well, maybe just a few), but instead pick out the chicken bits, which are coated with just the right amount of mala hot-and-numbing oil.
Since that encounter, I’ve ordered Chongqing chicken many times in Chengdu—and eventually in Chongqing, the autonomous megalapolis where it originated and which used to be part of Sichuan Province. Not many versions have strayed from the traditional—though I once had one that incorporated fried, small-diced potato. Yum.
I wanted to test the various versions in my Sichuan cookbook collection, but strangely, none of them have a recipe for laziji. It’s said to have been created in the 1920s, but didn’t really blow up until the 1990s, so perhaps that explains why the two books published in the 1970s don’t have it. But I can’t hazard a guess as to why the definitive Sichuan Cuisine in Both Chinese and English doesn’t have it. In any case, I’ve been trying to perfect this recipe myself on and off for years, so that is what you’re going to get here.
Funny enough, Sichuan hot chicken reminds me of the most famous dish indigenous to my city—Nashville hot chicken. Nashville’s version is fried chicken that packs a real punch if you order the “hot,” and a total knock-out if you order the “extra hot.” The original purveyor of hot chicken zealously guards its recipe, but folks have figured out that it is probably marinated in a chili pepper brine, fried in a chili batter and, after it comes out of the fryer, brushed with chili-laden lard. Yes, it’s hot. And it’s soooo good.
I have to give a nod here to my friend Dub, who wanted (very presciently, in 2015) to open a hot-chicken truck in Nashville but secretly prepare the chicken Sichuan mala style, with the addition of Sichuan pepper to the chili pepper—”People won’t know what hit ’em.”
Like hot chicken, Chongqing chicken is given a spicy hot oil bath after frying. It is not generally battered like American fried chicken, but to further dial up the flavor I decided to add a light mala coating for the deep-fry, incorporating a fair amount of chili powder and ground Sichuan pepper into the corn starch dusting I give the chicken chunks in order to help them brown and crisp up nicely without adding an actual Americanized batter coating.
I leave the dried chili peppers whole, emulating that first-ever version I had, because they are so beautiful that way. Use large, fat Sichuan chilies (like these lantern chilies) if you can find them, or other medium-hot chilies. Leaving them whole is another reason the dish needs the extra heat from the mala coating. (To learn all about Sichuan pepper and how to make ground, roasted Sichuan pepper powder, go here.)
The chicken bits are fried twice, as they do in Sichuan, and should end up both crispy and tender. I then use Sichuan ground chilies, red Sichuan peppercorns and, sometimes, fresh-pine-scented green Sichuan peppercorns in the finishing stir-fry oil.
The end result is crispy, hot, numbing, garlicky, gingery, oniony fried goodness. Finger-licking good, for sure, if you want to forgo your chopsticks. Move over, KFC and Korean fried chicken, Chongqing chicken is destined for American glory.
Several years after I wrote this recipe, Fongchong and I finally made it to Chongqing and ate the dish in its hometown. That resulted in a different version that I called Chongqing Chicken Like It’s Made in Chongqing. I’ve also given a similar treatment to both lobster and squid.
Chongqing Chicken With Chilies (Laziji, 辣子鸡)
Ingredients
- 1 pound skinless dark-meat chicken, cut in small, ½-inch cubes 450 grams
- 1 tablespoon Shaoxing wine
- 1 tablespoon Chinese light soy sauce
- 4 tablespoons potato starch or corn starch
- 1 tablespoon Sichuan ground chilies (chili flakes)
- 1 tablespoon freshly ground Sichuan pepper (see note)
- 1 heaping teaspoon kosher salt
- 1½ cups rapeseed oil or peanut oil
- 5 garlic cloves, thinly sliced
- 1 tablespoon thinly sliced ginger
- 2 tablespoons Sichuan ground chilies (chili flakes)
- 1 tablespoon sesame seeds
- At least 3 cups/3 ounces whole dried red Sichuan chilies (snip some in half and include seeds for a spicier version)
- 2 teaspoons red Sichuan peppercorns (or 1 teaspoon red and 1 teaspoon green Sichuan peppercorns)
- 1 teaspoon sugar
- 4 scallions, roughly chopped, whites and greens separated
Instructions
- Marinate chicken pieces in Shaoxing wine and soy sauce while you prepare the other ingredients.
- Mix corn starch, 1 tablespoon Sichuan ground chilies, ground Sichuan pepper and salt in a large sealable baggie. Add the chicken pieces, leaving any accumulated juices behind. Shake the chicken pieces in the potato starch mixture until they are lightly coated.
- Heat wok on high heat until wisps of smoke start to rise and add enough oil to deep-fry the chicken, about 1½ cups. If your wok or pan is large enough, you can fry it in one batch, but do not overcrowd the chicken. When oil is hot, add the chicken pieces and reduce heat to medium; the frying process should produce a medium bubble, frying at around 350°. When the chicken pieces appear to be cooked through, remove them from the oil to rest on paper towels. Return the oil to a high heat and add back the chicken in two batches, so they are not at all crowded. This time they should finish frying at a high heat, about 375°F, with a large, fast bubble. Fry just until the chicken is crispy and golden brown, then remove to drain on paper towels.
- Pour off oil to a bowl, clean the wok and return to heat. When hot, add back 4 tablespoons of the frying oil. Heat briefly on medium heat, then add the garlic and ginger and cook until softened. Stir-fry vigorously from now on, as you don't want anything to brown. Add 2 tablespoons ground chilies and sesame seeds, stirring until lightly toasted, then add the whole chili peppers, Sichuan peppercorns and scallion whites. Stir until fragrant, then add the sugar.
- Add back the chicken along with the scallion greens, and stir-fry until well mixed. Plate with chili peppers prominently displayed.
Notes
Tried this recipe?
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Hi Taylor,
Personally I don’t understand why they use that scary amount of chillies, No I’m not afraid of heat, it’s just a waste to throw them away !
for flavouring the chicken I marinate it with few spoons of fragrant chilli oil, that’s my little secret ^^
True. I couldn’t bring myself to use as many chilies as restaurants sometimes do. But the more you use, the better it looks!
Could you contact me, I have some comments…and questions …too lengthy to post here…
Klaus
Probably my favorite iteration of this was a dish I had in China which consisted exclusively of the joint between the drumette and the flat of a chicken wing. I’m a huge lover of cartilage and that dish really hit the spot.
This dish is often served with rabbit in China although I tend to prefer the chicken version as the joints in the rabbit are still tough with such a short cooking time.
Mission Chinese serves a version of this with just chicken wings and it’s killer, I make sure to get some every time I go.
Serious Eats has their interpretation of the Mission Chinese version here: http://www.seriouseats.com/2015/01/the-food-lab-crispy-oven-fried-chicken-wings-xian-superbowl-buffalo-snack.html
Also, recipe for the Mission Chinese version here: http://www.modernluxury.com/san-francisco/story/make-danny-bowiens-chonqing-chicken-wings-sundays-niners-game
All in all, fantastic dish!
Those are very nontraditional versions—as Danny Bowien’s stuff always is—but they sound great. Also, the benefit of using wings is that you get to keep the skin (vs. the chicken chunks version where it doesn’t stay attached). I’ll have to try the Serious Eats baked version. Thanks for sharing.
For some reason, my link to the Fuchsia Dunlop version got cut out of my comment. You can find her version here: http://www.ft.com/cms/s/2/a1095668-7d7a-11e3-a48f-00144feabdc0.html#axzz2qgEgwxwU
Hi Xianhang,
Have you tried the Serious Eats recipe? I tried it last night and it was delicious. It’s not very Sichuan—and in fact it is called Xian style—but we loved it. Wondering if you found it very numbing? Perhaps because I used Sichuan pepper I got in Sichuan it was fresher and therefore very ‘ma.’ My husband said his tongue was still numb this morning. But my daughter loved them!
Hi, I love Sichuan food too and found your site to be very informative. Thanks for the great work! Another website I came across about Sichuan food is this: http://www.chinasichuanfood.com/
Hope it can help you cook even more different varieties of Sichuan food 🙂
Thank you for your kind words, Lynette! I do know this blog. It’s by a woman in China who writes about the Sichuan and other Chinese food she grew up on. Great stuff!
A local Sichuan restaurant makes a very tasty version of this dish. The owner said that they include the ingredient “prickly ash bark” as well as Sichuan peppercorns. I can’t find much on the internet about it…it seems to be primarily marketed as a natural remedy. It’s always interesting to compare the many versions of these classic dishes!
Interesting. I’ve never heard of or seen prickly ash bark. I have a feeling that restaurateurs know a lot of secrets that we don’t. 🙂 Thanks for writing!
Taylor, I think this reply got lost in the ether, but from one “big-nose” to another, prickly ash pepper (same tree as the bark) is sold in Japanese markets as “Sansho.”
Right. I am pretty sure it is a different species, as there are numerous species in Sichuan alone. Does it taste the same? Is it usually fresh and numbing when sold in the U.S.? I assume it suffers from the same fate as most Chinese supermarket Sichuan pepper here.
What should the oil temperature be for the initial “medium heat” deep-fry? 300 degrees F? Lower than that?
Thanks! Looks like a great recipe packed with flavor. So far the Dunlop La Zi Ji recipe has let me down 🙁
Hi Steve,
I have to admit I rarely use a thermometer and just eyeball a medium bubble. But as in most twice-fried things, the first fry should be around 325°F. The second fry should be around 375° to 400°, producing a quick, vigorous bubble. Hope that helps! You can also use cayenne pepper for more serious heat. Thanks for writing!
Wonderful! Thanks so much for the clarification. Now to find those elusive “facing heaven” chilies…
A couple more questions (I think I’m going to try it this weekend!)
-it’s kinda hard to measure out a tbsp of sliced ginger accurately, so could I just use an amount equal to the garlic (both weighed on a scale?). Or is there a specific garlic/ginger ratio?
-By “thinly sliced” ginger, do you mean sliced into coins, or into thin strips?
Thank you so much!
-does it matter if the chili flakes are Chinese/Korean, or can they be regular ones from a supermarket? I’d prefer not to drive 30 mins to the Chinese grocery if I can 🙂
Hi Steve,
This is a pretty rustic dish, so the measurements and ratios of ginger and garlic are not meant to be precise. Just use a lot! You often see the dish with slices (coins) of ginger and garlic, but feel free to change to slivers. The one thing I would not change is the chili flakes. Asian flakes are very different from grocery store/Italian-style flakes. Sorry to make you drive!
Thanks again! Very helpful tip about the chili flakes. I’ll order some…
One of my favorites but I seldom cook it at home because of deep frying is required. You posted a really great question. Although I saw this this dish in almost every Sichuan restaurants, you don’t the the recipe so often in cookbooks. Sometimes I come across the ones that stir fry the chicken instead of frying. Your version looks really great!
By the way, where did you get these Sichuan chili peppers? I can’t find very good chili pepper in most Asian markets here. They are spicy but do not have a vibrant color like real real Sichuan chili pepper.
Thanks so much, Maggie! I have to admit that I brought those chilies back from Chengdu. However, I occasionally see these fat “facing heaven” chilies from Sichuan in Chinese stores in the U.S.
I need to check out more Asian markets and bring some from China next time.
If you start a chili pepper online shop on your blog, it will become very popular for sure!
Ha! I’ve actually thought about it, because there are so many great chilies–and chili flakes–in Chengdu that we don’t get here. But importing them is so difficult.