The Two Minute Review: Mushroom Butcher

7 hours ago

2 min read

What’s the story with Mushroom Butcher?

Lucy. Gaffe. The Libertine. Bastible. Alma. Around the Corner. Gaillot et Grey. Lena. Scéal. If we had a euro for every time we’ve walked by Mushroom Butcher’s weekend queues en route to a restaurant in this dense thicket of town… well, we’d be well on the way to paying off the bill we racked up when we finally visited. This is the kind of place you’ll be tempted to order the whole menu, and reader, we did.

The whole thing?

Look, we hate hard decisions. And we can’t countenance missing out. Mark Senn’s menu, slung out of this silver truck parked up on the South Circular Road, is switched up every second weekend so you’d better move quick if something looks good – the Japanese specials that sent us scurrying sure did. The ex-Veginity and Vish Shop owner’s post-covid pivot to fungi supply has seen him rack up a helluva client list across the city, but none champion champignons like this.

The saline slap straight out the box of sushi (€12) was like a sea breeze sweeping away our earthy shroom expectations – it’s rare to feel coastal freshness so far inland. Nori and miso meet to lend these plump pieces a deeply salty savour, with deep-fried crisp coating cushioning the oyster inside.

For sando (€13) as for sushi, it’s the pickles that make it. Thin slivers of daikon are a crisp cut through the sour-sweet depths of teriyaki and slapdash slathers of mayo, prepped fresh to preserve the perfect panko crunch. Only the oyster’s uneven crags and the variable crunch-to-chew ratio they yield let it down a touch – might thicker kings not play better?

There’s something almost indecent in the shokupan’s (€14) airy tufts, like a doughy derrière tilted to the sky - you’d nearly need to glance about to see is anyone looking before diving in. Milk bread seems impossibly soft at the best of times – done dairy-free, as here, it defies belief. Rabid dogs eat more agreeably than the way we tore it asunder. Divvying up the lion’s mane-topped mac and cheese within was not much more civil.

A sweet shokupan cube (€5.50) starts off dessert with more modest form but no lesser flavour. The fennel honey-crusted lid lifts to gasps and a bounty of pear in miso caramel curd, mellow depths of salt up against the fruit’s freshness. Candied ginger studs the swirl (€5) to similar effect, a caramelised coil of plum butter so sensually sweet it needs the sharp shock.

Matcha would have to rear its head, wouldn’t it? A teetering tower of honey sponge pancakes (€5.50) has "are-you-sure?" value against the trend-trailers around town, and a strawberry jam balance that their in-your-face iterations rarely offer. No bandwagon hopping here.

What’s the verdict on Mushroom Butcher?

As we sat awaiting our all-in order, lion’s mane latte (no really, €5.50) in hand, the healthy queue’s chitchat revealed an even mix of blindly trusting regulars and newbies like us finally drawn down. Any one of these bites shows how quick one becomes the other. This weekend Brazilians are raving about Senn’s mushroom coxinhas. Who knows where in the world he’s off to next. Follow him anywhere.