Such a Dish #19: Mountain, Soho

A great restaurant for people who love butter in their veins

The opinion part

As a big fan of Brat (the restaurant) but also Charli XCX, I had to try Mountain, Tomos Parry’s Soho spot. It’s a Brat girl summer so, you know, must overindulge where possible. I didn’t know, until just now, that Tomos and his partners also own Kiln (Soho) and Smoking Goat (Shoreditch). Two Thai, two Welsh-Basque. I’m unclear what a Welsh-Basque combo really means. The menu is wholly Basque.

Everybody goes to Mountain. It’s definitely somewhere in the realm of this-would-be-great-for-Instagram-so-people-know-I-got-a-reservation and American-family-stumbles-upon-hot-spot-and-UK-restaurant-sees-dollar-signs-in-its-eyes sort of energy. Everyone around us was either wearing a signet ring, an Asian family all on their phones, or an American couple fresh in from their matinee.

I have to say, I really enjoy Brat and Smoking Goat so I was quite hopeful that Mountain would feel like I had reached great heights. 🫣🫣🫣

Gosh.

So, we arrived at Mountain. We didn’t have a reservation. It was very ambitious. I’m of the belief that you can manifest a table. Or, having now read, and become obsessed with, Keith McNally’s Balthazar restaurant reports, I know there are always walk-in spots available. We were 3. A 3-person walk in at a hot-spot on a Saturday felt punchy.

The trick though. Is. Wait for it. Being kind. To the person who controls whether you get the table or not. I have a sneaking suspicion that people don’t give maitre d’s the time of day or respect they deserve. So I go in all beaming with joy and optimism that there’s a table waiting for me with my name on it.

“Hello there, how are you on this sunny Saturday?” I exclaimed.

Shocked at having been asked a question about himself, he replied: “Oh, yes, I’m well thank you THANK YOU FOR ASKING.”

Shoo-in.

“I’m feeling hopeful today and wondered if you might have some lovely lunch for us? We’re just 3 people.”

“Oh, 3. I’m sure we can squeeze you in!”

Nailed it. Landed a prime table.

I’m not sure how to break the news though. Should I skirt around it? Mountain is not a good restaurant.

OK, the food has delicious moments. Truly delicious moments. But it’s a net negative experience. I sort of set out when I started Such a Dish to not write a negative review. But Mountain is overpriced, over-oiled, over-salted, over-buttered and, sadly, the waiters behave with an uncomfortable sense of pomp and circumstance.

So, we ordered. The waiter said:

“Has someone explained how the menu works here, yet”

I hate when someone says this.

Let me guess. We order food. The quantity we want. Then you bring us such food. We eat it, then we pay and then we leave.

Or am I mistaken? Is there another way?

“We recommend 3-4 dishes per person, it’s a sharing menu.”

1. I know you’re recommending quantity based on your revenue target (not to be cynical). I’ve seen a restaurant briefing.

2. 12 main sized dishes between 3 people is absurd.

3. Why is it a sharing menu? Why is everything a sharing menu?

Midway through the waiter explaining how ordering food in a restaurant works, he started to explain the concept of the restaurant, its history, mission, and experience. It kind of reminded me of some of the crazier descriptions of Robert Rauschenberg’s blank canvas art in galleries, when they tell you the metaphor of why the canvas is white. In reality, let’s be honest, we’re being punked.

Like, come on. It’s white vertical rectangles worth millions of dollars.

I asked the waiter why the name Mountain. He couldn’t tell me. The issue is that he was fine telling me the script that he’s learned by heart, but he seemed almost annoyed that he didn’t know the answer to perhaps the most basic question about his employer. I have since Googled and I’m unclear why it is called Mountain. Unless, perhaps, it’s a metaphor for the cost. Maybe they should rename it to “Arm and a Leg.”

Right so we embarked on the food journey. We opted for doing as he said and over-ordered. We didn’t order alcohol. Again, something the waiter seemed disturbed by. Must be affecting the revenue target.

The food part

We started with Raw Sobrassada with Honey. I’m somewhat regretting this decision. It was nice. Sobrassada is akin to ‘nduja or chorizo. Neither are good for my bowels. It’s like a bad dream for a sensitive Jewish tummy. It’s like the Rabbis coalesced around the idea that we shouldn’t eat pork to protect our stomachs. Especially raw, spicy pork on overly buttered/oil toast. Seriously, the first bite here was an emblem for the richness of the food.

Raw Sobrassada with Honey

We now move on to my favourite dish of the meal which, in a way, is kind of damning.

Oysters. We’re back people. I love oysters again. Thanks to Mountain. Now, the reason I liked the oysters the best is they were the ONLY dish on the menu that weren’t soaked in some fatty liquid. Just really simple fresh oysters. As opposed to the non-fresh ones. With gooseberries. And some random superfluous green leaf thing that I choked on. My favourite dish from the meal was something I choked on. The colours, too, were something quite lovely.

Oysters with Gooseberries

Cucumber with Green Strawberries

Sometimes in life the most beautiful things are the most simple. That was certainly true for the oysters. No fuss, just great taste. I was so optimistic for the cucumber and strawberries. Have you ever had cucumbers with strawberries? Neither have I. Especially green strawberries. I was living my vegetable-version-fantasy of Dr Seuss Green Strawberries and Cucumber. And then I ate it. It tasted SOLELY of balsamic vinegar. And like bad balsamic vinegar. The watery Tesco balsamic vinegar. Not the goes-to-Florence-to-buy-overpriced-balsamic-which-tastes-like-glaze balsamic. It was soaked in vinegar. My dream to find out what a green strawberry actually tastes like was crushed.

As I remind myself of the meal through the photos, I do have to give 5/5 credit to the grilled squid with roasted red peppers. The squid was perfect. The general trend of this restaurant is that when it’s simple, with only a few ingredients and a flame, it’s done well (minus the cucumber). The squid did tick that box. The slightly burned edges, no rubbery texture - it was really, really tasty.

Quite masterful. I really wanted to mop up the juices with bread.

Grilled Squid with Roasted Red Peppers

.The main problem

The reason why I’m over-Mountain is how overboard they went with the cooking/seasoning. I genuinely felt the same as when I went to McDonald’s in my 20s and had that horrible salty tasty on my lips after a meal. Here’s why:

Dover Sole

Smoked Potatoes

Look how drenched the fish and potatoes are in oil! And chives. Chive-gate again.

The fish, which, on a normal day would be so light and flavourful. With this it was dead-by-oil-suffocation. Every pore has oil seeping out of it. It almost looks like it’s moulded in a sheet of oil. Caked in. It made one bite enough.

The potatoes, again, soaked in butter and oil. For a moment I thought to myself, I wonder if they have a defibrillator in this restaurant or cardiologists on site. They need to have a sign on the entrance to the restaurant that you may need your aorta checked after the meal.

Jesus. So much oil. I suppose Mountain is keeping olive oil producers in business. And cows.

Final thoughts

Look, I get it. The hot-spot restaurants all overdose us on salt, fat, acid, heat. It’s part of the equation. Recently I read a resignation letter in the NYT from their main restaurant critic. He quit because he was worried about his health from the fat content eating out. I can’t blame him, after eating at Mountain I thought to myself, maybe I should just review salad spots from now on?!

Dessert came and I felt guilty for eating it as I was already above my monthly recommended cholesterol goal. It might be Brat summer, but it sure as hell isn’t Mountain.