Savor tasty dishes for a good price in the city center
New restaurant Muka (Flour) seems a bit unsure of itself. Like a teenager trying to discover who they really want to be, it’s look, location and menu—while potentially very successful—still feel like they’re trying to work themselves out. The facade is reminiscent of a casino. The location—through an alleyway on Kreshchatyk—has no advertising on the street. And while the menu is almost exclusively focused on Italian fare, the odd German and French plates pop up like distracting diplomats at the U.N.
On a weekday night, my guest and I were the only two patrons there, the service obviously attentive (if not a little bored). Empty restaurants always fill me with dread, as if everyone else knows something I don’t, and have studiously chosen to avoid eating there. But the interior, with dark woods, exposed brick, low lighting and black leather seating, tried hard to put me at ease. And, in truth, I really had nothing to fear: Muka is the best new restaurant no one’s ever heard of.
The menu was really pushing something that it called “tarts” and that I would call flatbread pizza. But whatever you want it to be named, for only Hr 31, we got an 18-inch-long cracker-thin crust covered with a generous amount of salami, a light sauce, and thick shavings of parmesan. It was a perfect complement—both in flavor and texture—to the mozzarella, basil and tomato appetizer (Hr 41), a squat skyscraper of interwoven layers of cheese, tomato and greens, topped by fresh lettuce and supported by three beams of scallions and a square of oil, pesto and balsamic vinegar. The pesto was impressive and the tomatoes are so beautiful in Ukraine right now that you should take every opportunity possible to sample them raw. More importantly for a restaurant in Kyiv, though, the complementary bread was served not only fresh and warm, but interesting as well—a strange mixture of wheat flour made creamy by a dollop of yogurt in the batter and served crusty from the oven. Kyiv restaurateurs, take note: decent bread at the beginning of a meal is as important as good service, costing you only kopecks and nearly ensuring a repeat visit.
The gazpacho to follow was as light and bright as it should be, with the waitress offering spoonfuls of freshly cut cucumbers, tomatoes, croutons and onion—each in their own private vessel—at our table. My guest thought it had a bit too much vinegar, but I loved the bite. Feeling adventurous, I ordered the osso buco, hoping that the previous dishes implied a level of competency necessary to pull off a more complicated request. Now, often when I order well-known dishes in Kyiv, I make a sort of promise to myself: to enjoy the food for what it is and not to compare it to other renditions I’ve had in the past. It’s similar to the logic of a veggie burger: If you compare them to their all-beef counterparts, you’re certain to be disappointed. But if you eat the veggie burger on its own merits, you can actually find a kind of satisfaction in its flavors (or, rather, some can. For me, unearthing its magic has always been a bit difficult).
Such was the case—in certain respects—with the osso buco. First of all, the veal was very dexterously braised, easily torn from the bone with minimal effort, and retaining all of its succulence. And while the chunky red sauce was perhaps not exactly a traditional gremolata, it was robust all the same, filled with that slight pucker of citrus from the lemon peel, and a healthy dose of garlic. What more, two pucks of potato the size of a silver dollar, puffed and well-salted, stood in for the usual risotto. Honestly, with a fluffy consistency more akin to polenta, I thought the potatoes a fine substitution—and also a wonderful way to incorporate a more Ukrainian take on a very Italian dish. I’m not much of a marrow man, so I can’t vouch for what was hidden inside the bone, but I thought the osso buco a pretty splendid dish overall, whether or not a haughty Italian chef would give his exact seal of approval.
With a dish like meat lasagna (Hr 49), the parameters are much more accommodating to interpretation. And, indeed, my guest liked what she saw. Lasagna, though, a simple dish, is not necessarily an easy one—a distinction that can ensure either success or failure in its execution. This was obviously understood by the kitchen at Muka, who delivered a delicate layering of noodles, meat and cheese, stabbed through with spears of fresh thyme, basil and rosemary.
Muka is obviously one of those places that is still finding itself, not an uncommon soul-searching for a new eatery. Soon they’ll realize they should put a little sign outside the alleyway to increase foot traffic, and that maybe the Vegas-style lighting out front doesn’t scream “high-end meals.” Regardless, however, the food is as good now—if not better—than any dozen places downtown, and often half the price. So why not get a table before the inevitable crowds? With its location, quality and price, Muka is certain to gain a following.
Muka (46 Khreshchatyk (in the yard), (Teatralna metro station), 227-8943). Open daily noon till midnight
English menu: Yes
English-speaking staff: Some
Average meal: Hr 80
