#5: 192 Hours of Eating

Mountain; oxtail stew two ways; PB&Js cut just the way I like them.

Friday, September 22nd

Being a staunch proponent of eating dinner early (i.e. starting between 6 and 7) makes it easier to stomach a 5:15 reservation you had to make more than a month in advance, but the promise of a glossy crab-filled omelette helps too. At Mountain, the hyped new-ish Brat offshoot in Soho, Ivan and I had cocktails (a Shiso + Manzanilla Spritz for me, a Sherry + Tonic for Ivan) to start. We ordered: oysters with a tart, jalapeño garnish; audibly crunchy grilled peas (an underrated vegetable) in a light coat of soy; the omelette and a chive-topped naan-like bread to mop it up; a warming hug from paprika-spiced tripe; fatty lamb with delightful fried capers and smoked potatoes (unpictured) that I think had boiled, torn up and roasted or grilled to crisp up all their craggy edges; and a quite gritty salad that the staff kindly replaced.

It’s a special occasion spot if you’re committing to the full meal, but I like the idea of walking in for a seat at the bar — they had more space for walk-ins than I expected — and a few of the smaller plates. I was later alerted by Jess that Mountain “is one of the few restaurants that deserves a 50:50 savoury to dessert order,” so I will be back.

Saturday

Croissants and strong coffee to start, followed by a kind of dan dan noodle at noon that consisted of stir-fried minced pork, these noodles (boiled then run under cold water), blanched pak choi and a sauce with inexact amounts of peanut butter, sesame oil, a couple of chilli oils, vinegar, and a few tablespoons of the noodle-cooking water to loosen things up.