Mr Kong
Chinese, London, United Kingdom
If someone had said my first EC would end with missing an easy pot on the black after eating pig intestine, I might not have bothered turning up. Which would’ve been a mistake. Excellent prawn dumplings kicked things off, whilst the aforementioned plate of intestine, sumptuous on its bed of sliced ginger until the fried golden exterior was turned to reveal larval tubes, neatly highlighted the dangers of combining machismo and special menus. Otherwise, poultry, beef and bean curd dishes were all gleefully consumed with forgettable décor and functional service. Total cost with a couple of beers: under a score.
