Have you ever met someone who has an almost other-worldly yet insanely banal superpower? The person who never gets lost, even without a map. The person who can always parallel park on the first go. The person who can paint their nails with their non-dominant hand and never color outside the lines. The person who can read your emotions on your face.
Mine, if I may be so bold, is that I’m an excellent orderer, inspiring plate envy among pretty much anyone assembled with me around the table. But I think that it’s my superpower – and not Mamagoto – that failed me on my first visit to this airy, convivial spot not far from Gare de l’Est.
Self-styled as a “Franco-Japanese cantine,” the latter word a common reference to a local’s spot, the sort of restaurant where you can stop in and grab a bite and feel like a regular, Mamagoto has been on my list of restaurants to try for quite some time, especially given the boredom that has set in regarding the “thing on a plate” mentality so widespread among small plate spots of its ilk. With dishes that promised to be a bit more travaillés and an intriguing marriage of Japanese and French flavors, I was excited to finally pull up a chair here.
Let’s start with the great. I loved the dining room, which was convivial yet airy and spacious. I had no neighbors in my lap, no risk of contending with anyone else’s elbows, but there was a boisterous, community feel that made me think I’d be just as happy slipping in for a drink at the bar as occupying one of the larger tables towards the back.
The bar, by the way, is the focal point of the dining room, with a selection of natural wines on offer, including an intriguing co-ferment of pinot noir and white Alsatian varieties that totally derailed my plans for a glass of white in a wholly pleasant way. And while service was a bit slow, I can chalk that up to the 8pm seating; it was friendly and efficient once the ball got rolling.
Also great was this confit pork belly bao with soy and sesame. The bao itself was soft and fluffy, and the meat was tender and perfectly balanced with slightly sweet undertones.
I loved the flavors of the house tarama topped with sweet Galician mussels and a lovely herbaceous dressing, but my dining companion was more nonplussed.
And while I found the presentation in sucrine lettuce cups interesting, serving it in this way meant that the tarama was copious to the point of being nearly overwhelming in quantity, a question, perhaps, of more attention being paid to aesthetics than to flavor. It’s an easy trap to fall into, especially when attempting not to fall into the aforementioned thing-on-a-plate category, but this would have eaten a lot better without the lettuce and with a bit more bread.
Least exciting to me was the artichoke salad with trout eggs and barigoule: What promised to be a celebration of spring fell a bit flat, featuring brine on brine on brine. (And I say this as a lover of all things brine.)
Would I have been happier had we veered away from the appetizers and instead opted for more of the “mains,” like the udon with fish spring rolls and soft-boiled egg or the salmon with parsley zabaglione? What about if I had come before overindulging, as I always do, on seasonal produce the moment it pokes its head out of the soil, and had thus opted for the white asparagus with parmesan and spring onion zabaglione or the green peas with shortbread and smoked ricotta?
Only time will tell. After all, I’m not writing this spot off. For one, it’s too close to where I live. And for another, I firmly believe that in this case, my dissatisfaction comes down, not to the restaurant, but to my superpower failing me. I will return, and I will order better. Stay tuned.
Mamagoto – 5 Rue des Petits Hôtels, 75010