Restraint is not the register here. Up a flight in Chinatown, a vast, mirror-ceilinged hall done in bubblegum pink plays Sichuan hotpot as full-blown spectacle, the first Australian outpost of one of China's largest chains, with room for a few hundred at once. The theatre starts before the broth boils: robots trundle between tables with fruit and mints, arcade games and Jenga fill the wait, and there is even a steam cabinet to lift the smell of chilli oil from your coat on the way out. Then the ingredients arrive dressed for the occasion, Wagyu draped over a Barbie doll, prawns tucked into bamboo, stock cubes pressed into the shape of Hello Kitty to melt into the pot. Beneath the gimmickry, though, the actual cooking holds up: the numbing red Sichuan broth reaches a genuine, lava-hot rolling boil, and ordering it split with a milder base is sound advice for all but the hardened. It is loud, maximal, made for big groups and celebrations rather than a quiet dinner for two, and it knows exactly what it is. Come for the circus, stay because the ma la, under all the kitsch, is the real thing.