Our pro says...

THE SERVICE

With a name like Black Axe Mangal, you might expect heavy metal atitude, and hard rock sneer. Instead, the service here is warm, charming and heartfelt. Just afer we order, a botle of Jameson appears, and we’re poured three shots. We thank them, and ask why? ‘It’s a present, as you chose the entire menu,’ beams our waiter. It’s that sort of place. *I was recognised as I know Lee Tiernan from his St. John Bread and Wine days.

THE FOOD

Bread is the star here, baked in a vast, black, wood-fred oven decorated with Gene Simmons and the rest of the Kiss gang. Its Turkish pide arrives covered with a layer of kid ofal, rich and cumin scented, with a slight whif of the farmyard, as we’d hoped. Then more bread, this time with pumpkin, an ingredient I’d usually cross the road to avoid. Here, though, it’s mixed with pickled chilli and walnuts, giving not only autumnal succour, but a wonderful texture. It’s not all bread. Hell no. Creamy, delicately salted, smoked cod’s roe comes with giant, freshly made crisps. Kale and romesco salad is crisp, sharp and sweet, cuting a scimitarlike swathe through all that meaty hef. The favours here are turned up to 11. The Mission doner makes the lips tingle and the heart leap. Sof lumps of pig cheek are doted with shards of scallop. The result sits between American ’cue and something from the depths of a Sichuan menu. Astounding. Then Hispi cabbage. A whole cabbage is thrown in the wood oven, with what tastes like shrimp paste. It’s wonderfully mellow and seductive. Quietly thrilling too. Rather like Black Axe Mangal.

THE BOTTOM LINE

The room is tiny, cramped and we wait an hour for a table. It’s the sort of place I hate. But Black Axe Mangal is a masterpiece: a place where technique, woodsmoke and imagination combine to create something unique. For those about to rock, we salute you. Bill was £117 for three, including service