Firestarter: Facing Heaven
(Picture: Matt Writtle)When we talk of restaurants being a timewarp, we generally mean the sweeping romance of some bygone, pre-internet age; we mean red vinyl booths, glittering chandeliers and silver tankards of Black Velvet. But stepping into Facing Heaven, a new, expanded iteration of hit Hackney-based vegan Chinese Mao Chow, felt like journeying to a more recent place and time. A place and time that, if I had to specifically date it, I’d probably describe as “dangerously raucous east London house party circa 2009”.
On a recent Thursday, beneath kitsch, primary-coloured bulbs, ‘00s indie blared from the speakers to a crush of seated bodies. The toilets featured a beret-wearing shop mannequin, flashing disco lights and, bafflingly, a mislaid can of Nourishment drink. And then, early on in our meal, Facing Heaven’s chef-founder Julian Denis came by with complimentary shots of a home-brewed, paint-stripper version of the Chinese spirit baijiu. “It’s like we’re back in our old flat,” said Madeleine, referring to the pre-kids, New Cross two-bed where we essentially sacrificed our tenancy deposit in the name of continually gathering loads of people to smoke indoors, spill drinks and scream-rap along to Roots Manuva at 4am.
I can’t pretend it wasn’t pleasing. As someone who loved Mao Chow (which opened in 2019 and was closed by Denis in late February) for its cramped, ramshackle charm as much as anything, it was a relief to see this atmosphere of semi-organised chaos intact. However, it soon became clear that, where Denis’ first restaurant won you over with its potent, sneakily proficient cooking, here some sloppiness has been allowed to creep in. Greater expansiveness has only served to highlight a somewhat limited range. And if Mao Chow’s approach to plant-based cuisine felt quite punk, at Facing Heaven it is a little too much like someone hitting the same note over and over again. Early warning signs came courtesy of the drinks and snacks. My “MSG margarita” hadn’t been properly strained and the “mala rim” of numbing spices, smeared messily up its side, looked less like a playful garnish so much as the sign of a place where the dishwasher was on the blink. Brittle panes of crispy-fried tofu skins with a blob of spring onion dip were a good idea, hampered by a heavy-handed sprinkle of more MSG (vegan chicken this time) that gave a naggingly synthetic, Pringles quality.
To criticise Facing Heaven — which, tellingly, is named after the brick-red, bullet-shaped chilli variety — for the robust, mainly-Sichuan flavours that are its signature is to miss the point, of course. Yet, it soon became clear that, especially when it came to numbing peppercorns, the kitchen’s sense of proportionate use was wildly out of whack. The nadir of this was dan dan noodles: a dense, claggy nest of carbs, welded to their bowl, and primed with an overwhelming licked-battery buzz.
Still, if there is a confusing twist, then it is that Facing Heaven’s maximal approach occasionally yields real, pulse-pounding brilliance. Dry-fried green beans, heat-crinkled and thickly daubed in a fermented black bean paste, were enormous fun. Dumplings, set in a deep pool of chilli oil-spiked “Zhong” sauce and filled with mystically meaty “OmniPork”, had both punch and poise. And a great mound of Chonqing-style cauliflower comprised craggy, almost southern-fried boulders, synthesising something of chicken’s savoury lusciousness and breathing just the right amount of tingly fire.
These dishes show Denis and his team, as well as being masters of aesthetic and atmosphere, are capable of injecting vegan food with creativity, playfulness and intensity. All they need to do now is channel it all with a little more finesse, and have enough confidence in their ability that they don’t reach for the chilli-and-umami hose at every juncture. Because, now and again, you have to take a step back to move forward. And sometimes, as I’d always ruefully croak the morning after one of those ‘00s house parties, moderation really is key.
