Down at the southern edge of the CBD, where World Square spills toward Chinatown, a compact counter trades on one thing done seriously: the noodles of Chongqing. The house bowl arrives dark and aromatic, a chicken broth built for depth then finished with an unapologetic slick of chilli oil, the whole thing carrying the slow, creeping numbness of Sichuan peppercorn. Three kinds of that pepper are brought in directly from China, which tells you where the loyalties lie. This is the Sydney offshoot of a Melbourne kitchen long regarded as the city's benchmark for Sichuan cooking, and the format here is stripped back accordingly: order by tablet, take a number, expect a queue of office workers just after knock-off. Noodles come springy in a ramen style, cut with fresh bok choy and whatever heat you can handle. A meal for two rarely troubles forty dollars. There is little in the way of decor or ceremony; the room is bright, quick and functional, the point being turnover and the bowl in front of you. For those chasing the real weight of Sichuan flavour rather than a softened version of it, few places in the city commit as plainly.