It’s from that perspective that I can recommend both Mildred’s and Vantra in London’s West End. Both are strictly vegan, but the flavours coming out of the kitchen keep you focused on the joys on your plate rather than a contemplation of what’s missing. There is no sense of sacrifice or abstinence, and no need to hit Burger King on the way home to fill a stomach left empty by salad. Which is, I sheepishly admit, what I was expecting as I braced myself for my first vegan encounter.
This introduction was at Mildred’s, an excellent gateway experience to vegan dining. It’s a bright, buzzy, modern cafe on St. Martin’s Lane, full of people of all ages indistinguishable from any other set of restaurant patrons in Covent Garden. Another foolish pre-conception crushed. There were no heavily tattooed, uncomfortably pierced, Birkenstock-wearing anarchists in sight. There was a lot of moreish food hitting tables.
Tempting starters include a wild mushroom tortelloni, not far off of what I’d make at home, where I’d always default to a cream or a brown butter and sage sauce it’s done here with a “caramelised leek cream” that, by some kitchen wizardry I can’t comprehend tasted as good as anything to come out of a cow. On future visits I’m curious to try their takes on whipped feta and loaded nachos. My one experimental purchase of vegan cheese was frightening, but the dairy alternatives here were delicious.
My main was called “bokkeumpab”, a twist on the Korean fried rice classic but with spicy tofu. Exquisite. Though that still didn’t keep me from envying my friend’s fried “chick’n” burger, another foray into spice and tofu that delivered all the comfort and sloppy, multi-layered joy you want from a burger. If you think about it, chicken and tofu are both relatively tasteless proteins that come into their own when a chef pairs them with something that gives them flavour. It’s actually no wonder they’re interchangeable. Maybe someday we’ll say “it tastes like tofu” instead of “it tastes like chicken” as the ubiquitous descriptor.
Mildred’s desserts astonished me most. As an accomplished cook in the Sicilian tradition I’m no stranger to oil instead of butter and vegetables as stars. But to create a proper desert without egg or dairy products seemed impossible. I was wrong.
Mildred’s carrot cake could compete with any “normal” version, and some might even find the lighter, fluffier icing here to be more to their taste. I missed the slight sharpness and silky density of the cream cheese, but didn’t mind the alternative. The tiramisu was better than many I’ve had in Italian restaurants, with a great balance between the coffee, the chocolate, and whatever the creamy stuff was. But the triumph was undoubtably a chocolate ganache cake that was as dense, moist, sharp and sweet as the best examples you’ve had anywhere.
I could take most carnivores I know to Mildred’s and be confident they could find something across all three courses to satisfy their hunger. Vantra is not quite as easy a fit. Located in a basement on Wardour Street just off Leicester Square, its menu celebrates raw food, steaming and fermented food, all of which left me wishing we could continue a few hundred metres on to the heart of Chinatown. But with a friend to navigate the menu (the same one who introduced me to Mildred’s), we found some safe territory that was also delicious.
The standout here are their small plates that remind me of pintxos. Soya skewers with peanut sauce were indistinguishable from a good chicken sate. A mushroom skewer with ginger and black bean sauce billed as “lamb” had a taste profile remarkably like the Japanese smoked eel called unagi. It was the star dish of the night.
This introduction was at Mildred’s, an excellent gateway experience to vegan dining. It’s a bright, buzzy, modern cafe on St. Martin’s Lane, full of people of all ages indistinguishable from any other set of restaurant patrons in Covent Garden. Another foolish pre-conception crushed. There were no heavily tattooed, uncomfortably pierced, Birkenstock-wearing anarchists in sight. There was a lot of moreish food hitting tables.
Tempting starters include a wild mushroom tortelloni, not far off of what I’d make at home, where I’d always default to a cream or a brown butter and sage sauce it’s done here with a “caramelised leek cream” that, by some kitchen wizardry I can’t comprehend tasted as good as anything to come out of a cow. On future visits I’m curious to try their takes on whipped feta and loaded nachos. My one experimental purchase of vegan cheese was frightening, but the dairy alternatives here were delicious.
My main was called “bokkeumpab”, a twist on the Korean fried rice classic but with spicy tofu. Exquisite. Though that still didn’t keep me from envying my friend’s fried “chick’n” burger, another foray into spice and tofu that delivered all the comfort and sloppy, multi-layered joy you want from a burger. If you think about it, chicken and tofu are both relatively tasteless proteins that come into their own when a chef pairs them with something that gives them flavour. It’s actually no wonder they’re interchangeable. Maybe someday we’ll say “it tastes like tofu” instead of “it tastes like chicken” as the ubiquitous descriptor.
Mildred’s desserts astonished me most. As an accomplished cook in the Sicilian tradition I’m no stranger to oil instead of butter and vegetables as stars. But to create a proper desert without egg or dairy products seemed impossible. I was wrong.
Mildred’s carrot cake could compete with any “normal” version, and some might even find the lighter, fluffier icing here to be more to their taste. I missed the slight sharpness and silky density of the cream cheese, but didn’t mind the alternative. The tiramisu was better than many I’ve had in Italian restaurants, with a great balance between the coffee, the chocolate, and whatever the creamy stuff was. But the triumph was undoubtably a chocolate ganache cake that was as dense, moist, sharp and sweet as the best examples you’ve had anywhere.
I could take most carnivores I know to Mildred’s and be confident they could find something across all three courses to satisfy their hunger. Vantra is not quite as easy a fit. Located in a basement on Wardour Street just off Leicester Square, its menu celebrates raw food, steaming and fermented food, all of which left me wishing we could continue a few hundred metres on to the heart of Chinatown. But with a friend to navigate the menu (the same one who introduced me to Mildred’s), we found some safe territory that was also delicious.
The standout here are their small plates that remind me of pintxos. Soya skewers with peanut sauce were indistinguishable from a good chicken sate. A mushroom skewer with ginger and black bean sauce billed as “lamb” had a taste profile remarkably like the Japanese smoked eel called unagi. It was the star dish of the night.
Before my two vegan dining experiences I was irritated by the appropriation of non-vegan words. Why are chicken, cheese, sausage, and burger used on a menu? Why not call it what it is? Now I understand that first it’s an expectation setting thing: we don’t have the vocabulary for the vegan concoctions, so we use the word that’s closest to give people some idea of what they’re ordering. Second is because it seems like the majority of descriptors on the menu would be tofu.
Mains at Vantra have much less variety than Mildred’s and are almost exclusively southeast Asian. If you’re up for a curry, they serve up delicious options. We tried some ice creams (obviously made from something other than egg and cream) in several varieties that were both strong on flavour and a good counter to the fiery curry that came before.
Overall I preferred Mildred’s. No matter how you dress it up, Vantra’s is still in a dark, pokey basement. That lowbrow environment doesn’t bring down the prices, however: £6.90 for those starters, barely two mouthfuls each, is a princely fee no matter how impressive the tofu transformation is. We were also served lukewarm beer and wine throughout the evening, which I assume was a one-off but is a large red flag. Vantra’s biggest advantage may be that it doesn’t take reservations and is a relatively niche cuisine in very busy part of town. So it might be an option when you can’t get in anywhere decent around Leicester Square.
These two restaurants have opened my eyes to the reality of vegan cuisine, something far different from the virtue-signalling deprivation I had imagined. Hosting a vegan dinner party is now on my list of New Year’s Resolutions for 2024. I still have one significant issue with the category, however.
My husband is allergic to tomato and dislikes anything particularly spicy. Beyond sushi and the occasional mild Chinese take-away, he’s not much of a fan of any Asian food. Yet Indian and Southeast Asian seem to be the bedrock of vegan cooking. Mildred’s would have had limited options for him but Vantra impossible. Yet my experience at both has broadened my thinking about what’s possible. I’m browsing recipes to learn more about the curious alchemy that elevates vegetables to a different plane. When I think about the people who produce delicious food from such a restricted list of ingredients, my respect has only grown.
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