Nyíregyháza, 1980s
Growing up, I only knew them in two forms: dill-infused green bean soup and dill-infused green bean stew. I wasn’t a picky eater at all, but these two dishes made it onto the very short list of foods I just couldn’t stomach—because of one culprit: dill. Its smell alone could drive me out of the kitchen.
Where I’m from, in Szabolcs (Eastern Hungary), we called green beans long beans, and they weren’t even green—they were pale yellow, unlike the deep green, buttery sautéed kind that started showing up in the ’90s.
The real turning point in my relationship with green beans came thanks to a Chinese dish called gan bian siji dou—dry-fried green beans with garlic, chili, and umami-rich flavors. Ever since that first bite, I’ve been hooked. I could honestly eat it every single day.
Beijing, Late August 2008
We moved to Beijing just one month before the Olympics.
At the time, the nearly 20-million-strong metropolis was bustling with preparations. Architecturally fascinating structures awaited the athletes: the iconic Bird’s Nest stadium and the ultra-modern glass complex known as the Water Cube, which later became a venue for classic concerts.
The city was shrouded in a gray, apocalyptic-smelling smog that authorities were desperately trying to combat. They launched silver iodide rockets to seed rain over Beijing—an infrequent sight in this arid city—in hopes the precipitation would wash away the pollution streaming from factories.
But getting rid of that massive smog cloud was far more complicated than just a few rainmaking rockets.
I took the newly opened subway through the gray, sprawling city to get to the swimming pool. It was a once-in-a-lifetime experience to see Tibor Benedek, Tamás Kásás, and the whole team in person—wrapped in Hungarian flags, cheering for the water polo team, and listening to the national anthem ring out amid the Chinese crowd.
The weeks following the Olympics were equally unforgettable, as I immersed myself in Beijing and its cuisine: I took cooking classes in the hutongs, those narrow gray-brick alleyways built in the 13th and 14th centuries. There, I learned the recipe for spicy green beans cooked with Sichuan peppercorns—a dish that completely transformed my relationship with green beans.
And I also learned that one kitchen knife is enough for a household—but it better be big and wide, just like Kung Fu Panda said.
Ingredients:
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1 lb green beans
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5 oz finely chopped chicken (ground pork can be used as a substitute)
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3 cloves garlic, minced
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1 tsp fresh ginger, minced
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1 tsp Sichuan peppercorns – the heart and soul of this dish! It numbs your mouth and tongue, but once you get used to the sensation, it becomes a lifelong love. I promise!
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Dried chili peppers (to taste)
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Soy oil (or any neutral cooking oil)
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Salt
Preparation:
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Heat a small amount of oil over medium heat and sauté the green beans just until tender. Remove and set aside.
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Turn the heat to high and add more oil. Stir-fry the garlic, ginger, and dried chili peppers briefly.
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Add the chopped chicken, sprinkle in the Sichuan peppercorns, and add a splash of soy oil. Cook until the meat is done.
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Return the green beans to the pan and stir-fry until the middle parts of the beans turn a deep brown.
Serving suggestion:
In China, this dish is typically served alongside steamed rice or meat dishes with lots of vegetables.