FKABAM / BLACK AXE MANGAL
FKNG HELL!
The psychology of names determines that as it’s the first thing people generally know about you, it’ll influence how they perceive you. Yet, despite Black Axe Mangal sounding like a hybrid of a death metal band and a pyscho-slasher movie—and I’m no fan of either—I’m completely drawn to it.
In a world of information overload (yes, I know) my desire is stoked by their lack of presence; their website is pretty much just a text only landing page. Even outside on the street, there’s no signage so I’m on maps, approaching tentatively, eventually spotting a tiny A6 menu in the window.
Today’s menu
At 7 o’clock the room’s not fully full, although there are already more people in, than this sized space would normally sit. At the back, a large dome, wood-fired oven dominates a compact open kitchen, with the black aesthetic of the room accentuating the yellowy-orange flames, seemingly dancing to the radio-friendly rock soundtrack.
Dining room / open kitchen
Service is efficient and almost as soon as we’ve maximised the space on the bold flowerprint-plastic tablecloth, we’re straight in with Borscht Backs. It’s a ‘you’ve really got to do it’ thing (isn’t it?) being a shot of vodka, followed by a shot of bold, earthy-sweet beetroot borscht, then finished with a bite of lightly pickled beetroot and meaty sausage on a cocktail stick. At £6.66, it’s a perfectly priced satanic twist on cheese and pineapple.
Borscht Backs
Squid ink and smoked cod’s roe looks like a volcanic lava fried egg from Hades. It’s a saline spiked ‘pizza-crust’ flatbread with lightly whipped, smoked cod’s roe doubling up on the salinity, perfect for the sweet, creamy raw egg yolk it cradles.
Squid ink and smoked cods roe flatbread
The pig’s head sizzler is like gorging on a mash up of faggots and the scrapings off the bottom of a pork belly roasting tray. It’s sweetly, meaty fatty, zinging gingery fresh and you’ll never find more perfectly executed shoestring fries… in and out the fryer with the timing precision of a philharmonic orchestra.
Pig’s head sizzler, spring onion & ginger relish, matchstick fries
Three dishes in, I’m already declaring it 11/10 and will drop a couple of already posted reviews down equivalently from 10 to 9/10. It’s a light bulb moment, realising I eat at a lot of places that are twists and variations of the same thing; dream combinations of best-in-class, seasonal ingredients. Here, that broad concept exists, but that’s just the start point for de rigeuer global flavours, but fundamentally it’s about smoke, fire and unfashionable cuts of meat.
No surprise really, as chef-owner, Lee Tiernan, trained at London's iconic St. JOHN flagship restaurant and pioneers of nose-to-tail eating, eventually leaving as head chef. Now, after almost ten years here, some dishes have achieved legendary status, such as pig's cheek and prune doughnuts, shrimp-encrusted pigs' tails and lamb offal or bone marrow, oxtail and ox heart flatbreads.
Charred hispi cabbage & fermented shrimp butter, katsoboushi
Charred hispi cabbage with fermented shrimp butter and katsobushi doesn’t quite reach the levels of what’s gone before, although that’s likely because its charms are now too muted for my palate that’s been voraciously stoked to expect flavour fireworks.
Flame grilled lamb rump, doubanjiang butter, lamb fat potatoes & charred kale
But, before I can dwell too long on that, we’ve got perfectly pink, flame-grilled lamb rump under a caramelised crust with lamb fat roasted, skin-on potatoes and kale charred to accentuate its bittersweet nuttiness. It’s another jaw dropper with the umami-loaded doubanjiang butter picking up the sweet, grassy flavours of the lamb, then bouncing them around my palate before slam dunking them onto my taste buds… every single one of them. It’s so FKNG good.
Staffelter Hof, Little Bastard
The wine list is also a beneficiary of Lee’s time at St. JOHN’s with twenty-ish carefully chosen low intervention wines. We’ve gone for the ‘Little Bastard’, a skin contact Riesling dominant blend that’s lightly effervescent, funky and yellow flesh fruity with bright acidity; perfect for the bold flavours of the food.
Tiramisù ice cream bar
The tiramisù ice cream bar arrives on the table more solid than permafrost, although on flavour it does exactly what it says on the tin. OK, I admit it… I’m sulking for the absence of the foie gras and peanut butter ice cream bar I saw on their Instagram menu when I booked.
Mandarin trifle
We’ve also got trifle with a dense orange jelly containing mandarin segments, topped with custard, whipped cream, a biscuity-crisp sweet crunch and a glacé cherry. It’s so 1970s I’m half expecting to be plunged into darkness by a power cut.
By the time we call for the bill and two Fernet Brancas—£192.75 (Food £105.82, Booze £64, Service £22.93)—an hour and a half has rattled by. One final thing of note has been the immaculate timing of the dishes, so that we were never scrambling to find space on the table, as can often be the case.
Despite, its low-level posturing F.K.A.B.A.M. is no wallflower; it’s like a black rose garden in full bloom, thorns and all. It won’t be to everyone’s taste (poor them), but I FKNG love it.
HIGHLY RECOMMENDED 10/10
156 Canonbury Rd, London N1 2UP
