I took Charles to Mallow in Canary Wharf because one of the worst spats we ever had was when I duped him, when he was very hungry, into eating at a vegan cafe in Edinburgh without so much as whispering the words “plant-based”. Somewhere between the concrete scones, the sludgy, tree-bark soup and the bottom-of-a-bird-cage tabbouleh, the truth came out, though.
Well, I say, “spat”, but it was actually more one of those silent, incandescent, mutual huffs couples seem to have in restaurants that involve much eye-rolling, sighing and passive-aggressive napkin-flapping. We laugh about it now – it has taken all of five years – so it felt the ideal time to dupe him again with lunch at Mallow, which recently opened a second site on Wood Wharf. Mallow, whose original restaurant is in Borough, is vegan, but very quietly so, and its intention to feed you well, but without cruelty, is carefully communicated. This is a bright, light, glass-fronted, chic, youthful modern brasserie where you can get tipsy on nori sesame old fashioneds and passion-fruit yuzu highballs, and take glamorous snaps of yourself in the bathroom.
The place is from the team behind Mildreds, which has been a forerunner in British vegetarian and vegan cooking since as far back as 1988, when the vegetarian option was, by and large, chips and iceberg lettuce. If you’re a fan of Mildreds, which, with five branches in London, is still going strong, then Mallow’s menu will make your eyes spin. It is the sort of varied, plant-based, all-day, thoughtfully written list that makes my heart go boom: mung dal, shiitake miso croquettes, sweetcorn ribs, za’atar padrón peppers, pumpkin blossom, beetroot burgers, biryani, and on and on.
But it’s not only the dishes themselves, it’s the drizzles, dipping sauces and marinades that come with them: whipped tahini, sour cherry molasses, kimchi, aguachile, tapenade butter, baba ganoush cream, celeriac skordalia, coconut sambol … Mallow ransacks the world’s cuisines, taking flavours, dishes and cooking styles from every corner, and makes them vegan without even saying that awful V word that so rankles some diners. For a long time, vegan signified going without, not opening oneself up to more, yet it’s hard to look at Mallow’s breakfast menu and feel short-changed by black forest chocolate pancakes, creme brulee brioche French toast or a brunch thali with scrambled tofu, almond pilaf, sambol, naan, dal and all the rest.
Notably, it also offers a garlic- and onion-free menu, presumably for the allergic or Jain vegetarians, as well as for those who just can’t stick the stuff. They aim to please everyone here. Even people such as Charles, who are so overcome with small plates of sourdough with onion caramel butter, dill spinach dal and dumplings that they don’t realise the butter isn’t dairy, the “ceviche” is tomato and samphire, and that nothing has even the merest hint of spleen, valve, loin or rendered fat.
I preferred the small plates to the big ones, because they’re where much of the ingenuity lies: miso-soaked shiitake mushrooms stuffed into croquettes offer punchy, umami hits and come with pickled shimeji (think small, stumpy enoki), shiso leaves, yuzu and mayo. Korean-inspired vegetable dumplings come with a sweet, feisty gochujang sauce and a pile of nicely whiffy kimchi, and a bowl of vibrant green spinach mung dal is laced with a slick of balm-like coconut yoghurt that we ate with naan. It was one of the best things I’ve eaten all year. A large bowl of fat, green, scorched padrón peppers, meanwhile, came with a memorable whipped tahini.
Perhaps Mallow is so good at this type of thing because they’re not jumping on a bandwagon – mainly because, for so long, Mildreds has been the bandwagon, tirelessly working out for decades which plant product would make a nifty substitute for animal stocks and fats, and which delicious part of the world’s menus were vegan anyway.
Main courses are what you could call hearty – I vastly underestimated how much biryani with pulled mushrooms (which come in dark brown, lamb-like lumps) would arrive, accompanied by plum tomato shorba, cardamom raita, cucumber sambol and an enormo-poppadom bigger than my head. A beetroot tempeh burger was equally generous, with a pile of onion rings, slaw, cherry tomato relish and guajillo chilli mayo. It was all very good, sure, but if you go big on the small plates beforehand, I’d advise you take some Tupperware.
By this stage of the meal, all Charles’ memories of being underfed by vegans in Edinburgh had been replaced by being stuffed senseless on Wood Wharf. But do leave room for Mallow’s glossy passion-fruit Sachertorte with chantilly “cream”, and make space on the window sill for the business card they give you when you pay. Closer inspection reveals that you can plant it and water it, and it will grow into flowers and save the planet. That’s the thing with these vegan environmental sorts: they always have to have the last word.
Mallow 12 Park Drive, Wood Wharf, London E14, 020-8050 8704. Open all week, Mon-Fri 8am-11pm (full main menu from 11am), Sat 9am-11pm, Sun 9am-10pm (full main menu from 3pm). From about £40 a head à la carte, plus drinks and service
Grace Dent’s new book, Comfort Eating: What We Eat When No One Is Looking, is published in October by Guardian Faber at £20. To pre-order a copy for £16, go to guardianbookshop.com
