On the beige horizon of a suburban street sits a hidden restaurant gem. While Grand Szechuan shares a parking lot with other, less thrilling establishments, there is nothing bland, beige, or ordinary about the cuisine inside the restaurant. It's hard to tell from the outside, but the expansive room is incredibly comfortable, with plenty of seating. The booths are semi-private places to tuck into a bowl of seriously spicy fare. Dan Dan noodles, an excellent starter, are velvety soft, in a pork-studded, fiery sauce balanced with a twinge of sour and a blaze of addictive heat. The dishes, flecked with the searing, numbing Szechuan peppercorns, are never simply hot for the sake of pain (although it is such a delicious pain); the heat is just one component of a complex array of flavors and sensations. Tender, sweet fish shines in a hellfire broth. Chendu dumplings are coated in brimstone-colored chili oil but carry a whisper of sweetness in their sauce. Hot, sour, sweet, savory, salty, and wholly delicious, Grand Szechuan lives up to its name.