The Sunday Times Magazine - UK (2020-11-08)

The Sunday Times Magazine • 49

Mediterranean (“Mo bouillabaisse”,

mussels with persillade and garlic

butter; Provençale-style socca —

chickpea pancakes); the Maghreb

(“1,000 holes Moroccan

pancakes”; shakshuka, but with

Balearic-style sobressada — their

spelling; harira soup; “Stephane’s

mum brick”, the Berber pastry

dish, sadly unavailable on our

visit); the whole thing given a bit

of a sun-soaked, hard shakes-

fuelled LA razzle-dazzle. Even

breads are ecumenical — spongy

cornbread, herb-flecked focaccia,

sourdough, all first-class.

There’s no point in looking for

a coherent narrative, there isn’t

one: this is a menu where tinned

sardines jostle with full English

breakfast. But it’s all so good.

Falafel, emerald inside from

courgettes, are the fluffiest little

savoury doughnuts, a drizzle of

tahini-lemon tarator sauce soaking

through crunchy exteriors to

create simple luxury. Confit duck

— very much Chavot territory —

brings a stellar example, the skin

papery crisp, sour-sweet from

pomegranate molasses, meat

almost leaping off the bone. Fat,

fresh prawns come with overcoats

of Weetabixy shreds of crisp

“kadaif ” pastry and a saffron aioli

for plush richness.

Much of it cosplays as trashy,

but turns up elevated into dishes

where every component is as

good as it can be. So sausages

“in a blanket” are fine, funky

merguez, the “blanket” puffy

msemen flatbread also stuffed

with green chilli slaw and a scarlet

slick of harissa. Prosaic kebabs are

not so prosaic: tenderest, juiciest

chicken blistered black from the

grill after being marinated “for

three days”, our amiable server

tells us. And I can’t remember

the last time I waxed evangelical

about a salad, but carrot, toasted

almonds, tiny dots of lemon and

orange flesh and quantities of

mint and flat-leaf parsley is so

hedonistic that the word “salad”

doesn’t do it justice. Even the

least successful thing we order,

a beignet filled with tuna, capers,

olives and eggs — Niçoise in a bun

— features notably good tinned

tuna and glorious homemade

mayo, a silky, eggy caress of a

dressing.

Mo Diner is a captivating

one-off. I recently fell down a

Tommy Roberts wormhole, the

man behind the genre-defying

1970s brand Mr Freedom — he

dressed Elton John and David

Bowie in their earliest days

before going on to do furniture

and homewares. At some point

there was a restaurant in

Kensington, Mr Feed’em — the

place was so outré that diners

reported visiting to find the

only other customers were Rod

Stewart with girlfriend. Mo Diner

feels a bit like this, a restaurant

outside any normal sphere of

reference. There’s nothing about it

that should work. It’s simply daft

— life-affirmingly so.

My lunch here lasts an absurd

length of time, topped up with

the odd cocktail and suitably

excessive dessert: the sort of ice

cream and chantilly coupes that

wouldn’t look out of place in

Bouillon Chartier, to a skillet of

warm, oozing chocolate cookie

dough topped with yoghurt ice

that’s purest US of A. Basically,

I don’t want to leave. In this gilded

dining car going who knows

where, as long as you’re bathed in

its sunny glow — hey, we’re all

beautiful at Mo’s — all seems right

in this miserable world. It’s closed

now, but we must relish the day it

reopens. Mazouz has brought us

the restaurant we didn’t know we

needed right now. I can’t thank

him enough n

Twitter: @MarinaOLoughlin

Instagram: @marinagpoloughlin

I don’t want to

leave. Bathed in its

sunny glow, all

seems right in this

miserable world

HAVE YOU HAD YOURS? “Fat, fresh prawns come with

overcoats of Weetabixy shreds of crisp pastry”

FROM THE MENU

SMALL PLATES

Zingy carrot, parsley,

almond, orange and

lemon salad £5.50

Tunisian fricasse in a

savoury beignet £6.50

Merguez in a blanket £7

Falafel with tarator

dressing £5

Duck confit with

pomegranate £13

Gambas Kadaif with

aioli £10

Lemon chicken on

a stick £6.50

DESSERTS

Petit pot chocolat

pistache £5

Warm chocolate

cookie dough with

crème glacée £5

DRINKS

460ml bottle of

Mandrarossa Grillo £19

460ml bottle of Momo

Verdejo £23

3 x cocktails £11

TOTAL

For three, including

13% service charge

£156.50

Plate of the nation

You can happily

stuff yourself with

Bao’s classic bun kit

The Bao mini chain was an early

pioneer in encouraging our love for

these irresistible Taiwanese stuffed

buns, the original outlet in London’s

Soho queued out from the moment

it flung open its doors. Different

times, of course — can it deliver the

goods by post as successfully as

over the counter?

Happily, it can. The kit contains

six buns and 12-hour-braised pork

humming with aromatics and ready

to be boiled in the bag, plus pungent

fermented mustard leaves,

coriander and peanut powder.

There’s no way I can get mine to be

as flawlessly symmetrical as the

restaurant does — they’re all over

the place, disgorging their fillings

and dusting me with peanut. I’m

unbothered — each bite is perfect:

marshmallow-textured bun, rich

pork, the slap of the pickles and the

final flourish of toasted nuts to pull

it all together. Three each, plus a

twisted Umeshu Negroni cocktail

pouch spiked with the sweet-

sourness of plum saké : a mini feast

and a dangerous new addiction.

Bao Classic Made by You Kit for
two, £20, cocktail pouch, £18,
plus £7 for nationwide delivery.
JASON BAILEY STUDIO Visit baolondon.com/shop