I don’t know about you guys, but I can only do málà numbing spice every now and then. It’s such a strangely exhilarating experience, flooding your system with adrenaline, that it can only be enjoyed on special occasions. It would be tough to concentrate on a spreadsheet after an al desko lunch of such thrilling proportions, but maybe I’m just a little weakling.
Pork bung consommé tastes like it could cure all diseases
Chongqing, a city in China that is the size of Austria and home to 36 million people, recently went viral due to being so Blade Runner-coded that many thought it was an AI hallucination. It’s not only home to social media sensation Chinese Trump, but is also the epicentre of numbing spice, and the place where you can find it at its most extreme. However, Jiāonest on Kingsland Road is anything but extreme; it’s delicate but potent, homely yet stirring.
Sat at the foot of a deep flight of stairs, Jiāonest has none of the loud, Technicolor futurism Chongqing has become known for. Instead it’s a demure space - candlelight, soft jazz, tastefully thick dark wood chopsticks, a medicinal herb cabinet obscured by patio doors. It’s minimal without being too knowing or overwrought.
Spiced house salad comes with a warning about it being ‘a little dramatic’, and was the first málà dish to get the blood pumping. Seasonal leaves were dressed in a numbing sauce, with crispy pig’s ear julienned alongside strips of tofu skin. It came alongside gongbao fried chicken, piled up in a little cup and topped with an airy cream cheese, peanut and chilli mixture. I would happily attempt a Guinness World Record to eat as many of these as possible.
Mapo tofu had the rich blast of umami that you get with the most attentively prepared bolognese, and the mince was cooked with just enough bite to contrast with the silken cubes of tofu. The showstopper here, though, is inarguably the málà short ribs. Gigantic, cretaceous hunks of meat, soft, drenched in cinnamon-y clove-y glaze, tendrils of crunchy bamboo taking on the flavour, gentle fronds of mint bringing it together. It’s a dish that makes you feel loved and cared for, as does the pork bung (don’t Google it) bowl, a clean, herbal consommé that tastes like it could cure all diseases.
The málà spice at Jiāonest is so deftly deployed that everything comes in waves and is never overbearing. This is a gentle trip in a field with friends, not a sweaty prang out sat on the floor of the Slam Tent.
Everything here was basically faultless aside from the dessert, which was sadly a dud. ‘Blossom and Booze Ice Cream’, a fermented rice ice cream topped with osmanthus, was not boozy and did not blossom. Pretend it doesn’t exist and simply load yourself up on everything else.
It was relatively quiet on a Thursday, but as word travels this will be a quaint thing of the past. The thrill of huājiāo can often be overwhelming, but Jiāonest understands that, used sparingly and with care, it can be electrifying.
The vibe A modest room serving immodestly good Sichuan food.
The food Málà-spiced dishes, delicately put together and lovingly considered.
The drink A chilled Vermentino to calm the tongue down, available by glass and bottle.
Time Out tip Order the crunchy pickled radish. It’s a sleeper hit, but not for the faint hearted. Beware of the red chilli it’s topped with.