what is the BACK MANGAL?
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wrong question.......
swagata9:
no it's not a wrong question...
ok.....try again
please.... what is answer this question
it will be the SUNDARI tree .....
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The bread has been laid down, smeared with a bass of gutty earthiness and then topped with a screaming solo’
Squeezed next to the Hen & Chickens pub at Highbury Corner is a small, unmarked shopfront, painted matt black. Lee Tiernan, ex-head chef of St John Bread & Wine, has taken over a mangal — the sort of cheap Turkish grill where you or I might stagger for a post-pub shish kebab. While other chefs with that pedigree might have found wealthy backers and gone on to head a million-pound operation, Tiernan has kept the equipment — a domed wood oven and a charcoal grill — and “leveraged” his experience with offal at his alma mater. Quietly, he is creating something astonishing.
The place is tiny — maybe 20 covers plus a thriving takeaway business. Furniture and decor could not be said to express a coherent aesthetic unless “found in a skip” counts; smiling over Tiernan’s endeavours are the portraits of the 1970s American rock band Kiss. Bookings, predictably, are not taken but seats are available without queueing early in the evening.
Starters are fresh-made sourdough flatbreads with a variety of toppings. Sesame for the traditionalist, sweet potato and black chilli for the vegetally inclined or a “Welsh Rarebit” credited to St John. The waitress recommended the lamb offal version, listing the ingredients with the calm of a triage nurse: “There’s heart, liver, kidneys . . . ”. She had me at “ . . . worked into a kind of paste”.
Squeezed next to the Hen & Chickens pub at Highbury Corner is a small, unmarked shopfront, painted matt black. Lee Tiernan, ex-head chef of St John Bread & Wine, has taken over a mangal — the sort of cheap Turkish grill where you or I might stagger for a post-pub shish kebab. While other chefs with that pedigree might have found wealthy backers and gone on to head a million-pound operation, Tiernan has kept the equipment — a domed wood oven and a charcoal grill — and “leveraged” his experience with offal at his alma mater. Quietly, he is creating something astonishing.
The place is tiny — maybe 20 covers plus a thriving takeaway business. Furniture and decor could not be said to express a coherent aesthetic unless “found in a skip” counts; smiling over Tiernan’s endeavours are the portraits of the 1970s American rock band Kiss. Bookings, predictably, are not taken but seats are available without queueing early in the evening.
Starters are fresh-made sourdough flatbreads with a variety of toppings. Sesame for the traditionalist, sweet potato and black chilli for the vegetally inclined or a “Welsh Rarebit” credited to St John. The waitress recommended the lamb offal version, listing the ingredients with the calm of a triage nurse: “There’s heart, liver, kidneys . . . ”. She had me at “ . . . worked into a kind of paste”.
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