Seven years ago, when Little Pepper opened on Roosevelt Avenue across from the Bland housing projects, it was hard to get diners to go there. Located on the subterranean level of a fading strip mall, it was surrounded by massage parlors, and the stairwell leading to the entrance was often heaped with litter. The place also seemed like a front for a gambling operation, because poker players with cigarettes dangling from their lips would emerge from a hidden rear room during your meal, look furtively around, and dash out. Yet the restaurant delivered the most spice-intensive Sichuan food the city had yet seen.
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