Apparently Han Dynasty handles the conflict better than me. A once-modest hole in the wall, the new vaulted ceilings and mood-lit sky-high bar contains an air of subtlety similar to P.F. Chang's. But the sizzling Szechuan cuisine is unmistakably authentic with just a touch of Chinese-American, a marriage between the east and west.
The mouth-warming Dan Dan Noodles are peanutty-sesame-sweet, and the sauce brings on the heat without the mouth-numbing Sichuan signature spice.
The Tofu Garlic Sauce Style was more just salt and spice. The garlic is just enough to turn on the heat and not quite enough to end a relationship in a single breath.
The Szechuan Sliced Fish was tenderly boiled in a red-hot pot of broth. This one was made with silken tofu instead of cabbage, which my dining companions didn't particularly care for. I grew up slurping silken tofu from my father's soups, but I think my friends felt the tofu could use a little Viagra.
East meets west at Han Dynasty and results in a harmonious marriage of authentic Szechuan with a tolerable level of spice. I don't know if I'll ever love both coasts without conflict, but I can only hope to handle it as well as Han Dynasty did.