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THERE IS A SULTRY smokiness to the air inside Tasty China in Marietta. The heady oil of Sichuan peppers released upon cooking creeps onto the back of your throat so strongly it will make you cough.

Chefs Peter Chang's and Yujie Huang's food is not to be ventured into lightly — they cook with fervor, and lots of Sichuan peppers and peppercorns.

Elissa Eubanks/Staff (ENLARGE)
Flaky sea bass in a black bean sauce is one of those plates that doesn't trigger a three-alarm blaze on the palate. You'll find lots of peppers in other dishes by chefs Peter Chang and Yujie Huang.
Elissa Eubanks/Staff (ENLARGE)
Yummy scallion bubble pancakes.
Elissa Eubanks/Staff (ENLARGE)
Owner Phuong Nguyen works behind the counter at Tasty China
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There is a large portion of the menu devoted to "American" Chinese, and it is mostly forgettable. If you are among the uninitiated (i.e., it's your first time in) owner Phuong Nguyen, who is actually Vietnamese and works the front of the house as if she were Auntie Mame, will try to steer you toward them. Don't let her.

"You ask a lot of questions," she told me the first time I ate dinner. Be persistent and let her guide you toward the sloppy wonderfulness of a dish of No. 98: sharp pepper fish, made with tilapia and silken tofu mixed in a heap of red and jalapeño peppers. Do not order water, unless you plan on spending the rest of your evening shoving a fire extinguisher down your throat.

Unlike other fiery cuisines, Chinese when hot, particularly Sichuan, is just plain hot, with few subtleties. The creativity and variety lie in what makes each dish hot: Sichuan peppers, peppercorns or jalapeño peppers are what Huang and Chang mostly use. A hot beef dish with "spicy green peppers" is brought as a sizzling hot pot teeming with slices of jalepeños. Their small, round green-ness hides under slices of tender beef, like a snake waiting to strike. Only bits of cooling cilantro can squelch the heat.

Then there's No. 129: shan city pork.

"This is pork belly," barks Phuong, pointing to her belly with both hands. "You know — like bacon." And, indeed, the dish is filled with what seems like thick-sliced bacon heated up with lots of Sichuan pepper.

Thank goodness for Diet Coke (the restaurant doesn't serve beer, or I would've gone that route). And thanks, too, to the thick round heap of doughy bread dotted with scallion and sesame and spiced lightly with Chinese five spice. We used it to literally sop the heat from our stricken mouths.

Scallion bubble pancakes will do the same, and they are paradise when brought straight from the kitchen, puffy and hot. Soft steam billows from the center of each round puff as soon as the surface is pierced with a finger.

There are plenty of offerings that won't cause a five-alarm fire in your mouth. Something as simple as sea bass in black bean sauce is actually one of the kitchen's best efforts — the musky sauce a pleasant thickness that tastes delicate, not heavy, with snowy bits of white fish. Ditto the easy-to-handle seafood dishes with shrimp and vegetables.

Once you become initiated (because Phuong will remember you), you won't have to ask for chopsticks, but until then, forks will be given, along with a pot of hot, loose tea.

Look hard at the bottom of your cup. The settled tea leaves read: "Warning. This stuff is hot."

And exceptionally yummy.