Fay Maschler reviews Magpie: Off their trolley

The food on the little round dishes first brings to mind Hunca Munca, one of the Two Bad Mice in the Beatrix Potter book of that name, who with his friend Tom Thumb moves into and vandalises a doll’s house belonging to Lucinda and her cook-doll Jane and, along with other depredations, smashes plates of plaster food. I then come across the internet phenomenon Tiny Kitchen on tastemade.com and figure that it probably rings more bells these days.

A recipe for consolingly manageable Tiny Chicken Piccata cooked on a tiny stove in a tiny pan using a tiny spatula stipulates a one-inch piece of chicken breast, three or four capers, two teaspoons of butter, one tablespoon of flour and a teaspoon of lemon juice. Apart from the inclusion of white flour — too ordinary and old hat — and the omission of an ingredient you have never heard of, this could well have been the stimulus for one of the assemblies served at newly opened Magpie in Heddon Street.

This West End restaurant parallel to Regent Street comes to us from the folk behind Pidgin in Hackney, a diminutive establishment that was awarded a Michelin star when chef Elizabeth Allen was cooking there. Her own planned venture, Shibui, is eagerly awaited by those, like me, who eagerly await such events.

Magpie conjures up a creature keen on snapping up shiny objects — although recent research suggests that this member of the crow family isn’t actually interested in sparklers — but it remains the only non-mammal species able to recognise itself in a mirror. So I suspect a link.

A magpie in the gastronomic garden might collect together blueberry yuzu kosho, violet mustard, whipped black vinegar tofu, pepitas (aka pumpkin seeds), carrot vinny (me neither), jalapeño coriander ketchup and miso masa polenta. Or it might, one of my companions observed, just have hopped between every branch of Momofuku worldwide.

The wheeze of presenting small dishes for sharing, either on a trolley or on a tray brought by a waiter to the table, has allegedly been inspired by (or copied from) the restaurant State Bird Provisions in San Francisco. The word “provisions” in that name makes me think the ergonomics of its outfit probably allow free and easy waltzing of trolleys and the acoustics an arena where explanations of the concept and the descriptions of dishes can actually be heard.

At Magpie a section of the kitchen being actually in the restaurant — hear that crash, bang, wallop — plus loud music means that we just smile at the friendly well-intentioned hosts and resort to pointing at stylised arrangements that arrive with prices — between £3 and £10 — displayed on a stick.

A synopsis of the culinary approach might be a small amount of a lead ingredient, a blob of smooth emulsion and something gritty for contrast. An example is beetroot/goat yoghurt/ palm sugar and carrot vinny/roasted rice/fennel pollen. Squeezy bottles and the Tupperware boxes stacked high above the open kitchen facilitate plating. The temperature is almost invariably, of necessity, tepid.

Offerings change, so I will mention the ones that for me “work” reasonably well and just about survive being divvied up — as is the expectation. Beef tartare/taleggio/ French’s/ shallot/yolk/ truffle crisps at £7 possesses likeable zip and zing and instils longing for more.

Fried chicken coq au vin (“love in a lorry” — Victoria Wood) at £7 points to a red wine marinade of the flesh beneath its dark crisp crumb coating. What is nicer than eggy bread? Well, maybe pain perdu/époisses/truffle/ fried Brazil nuts at £10, which is royally rich and fragrant and has a defensible theory behind it.

In two visits a week apart there is actually scant alteration in what is available, so if you set your heart on one of these you should be all right. Salads and fruit and vegetable-led gatherings tend to lose the courage of their convictions when pulled apart.

As well as the trolley and tray a few larger dishes under the heading “kitchen” can be ordered separately. Lamb neck/kombu/broccoli/miso polenta at £17 jests with us in terms of quantity — two cubes of lamb, two branches of broccoli — and also the use of a thrifty cut that arrives tasting of nothing much.

For dessert we go for cheese — moine (referring to tête de moine)/Asian mostarda/ carta di musica at £8 — that is a couple of frilly shavings hiding under the flatbread and fruits in a sharper than usual syrup.

Rents are high in London W1 and staffing here is copious but these little dishes ticked off as if on a dim sum menu add up to an unconscionable total, bolstered, it must be said, by tempting cocktails and the nifty facility of wine on tap. “The lunatics have taken over the asylum,” is my first text to a friend in the business. “Emperor’s new clothes, ” follows not long after.

10 Heddon Street, W1 (020 7287 8592, magpie-london.com). Currently, Tues-Sun noon-2.30pm & 5.30-10.30pm. Daily from September. A meal for two with wine, about £115 including 12.5 per cent service.