Some recipes don't get invented. They get inherited.

The chilli crisp you're about to make started with Shuai Wang's grandmother, in a kitchen in Beijing, long before Shuai knew he'd become a chef, open two restaurants in North Charleston, or end up on Top Chef. His grandmother made it the way she made everything...without measuring, without overthinking, just cooking the way she always had. His mother learned it from her, made it her own, and when Shuai was still in culinary school, she gave him the recipe.

And here's what Shuai wants you to know: "The question isn't what you eat the chilli crisp on. It's what you don't eat it on! In the Wang household, it goes on soups, noodles, eggs, Chinese takeout, Indian takeout, Italian pasta, pizza, hummus, and bagels with cream cheese. The one exception is ice cream. Everything else is fair game."

Chilli crisp loses its heat and fragrance the longer it sits in oil. By blooming it fresh at home, you get the full experience: the sizzle when the hot oil hits the spices, the smell that fills your kitchen in that moment, the rip-roaringly fresh result that a grocery store jar simply cannot replicate.

One tin makes a full pint. Yes, you have to work for it a little. And it's worth every second!

If it comes out too spicy? Add more hot oil. If you eat through your batch and find yourself with a bowl of pure chilli crunch and no oil left? That's not really a problem, but add more hot oil anyway! As Shuai says, it's the gift that keeps on giving.

This is three generations of a family recipe in a tin. Bloom it fresh. Put it on everything.