Duck, Duck, Goose – Pop Brixton

Mr New Zealand had jetted off to Sweden so no morbid zoos or wanders around parks this weekend.  With a Sunday to fill, I made like Pitbull, turned Miss International and found myself at Pop Brixton with Mr CrepeWaffle . Intensely European, wildly gesticulating and somewhat shorter than his profile had led me to think, we both turned up rather dark eyed from the nights before (separate plans) and probably wishing we’d both cancelled. I for once was thankful of Segrena’s insistence I go, and even more glad for her lending me her Bobbi Brown concealer kit, cos man did I need it after dancing all night at poser central Cirque le Soir.

Originally pining for an Indian at Kricket, we trudged up bleary eyed only to find it shut. By this point, I really wish I’d stayed in bed with my gals from last night or settled into watching Girls in the lounge. Luckily salvation glowed out to me in neon orange and formica tables from new opening, Duck, Duck Goose.

The perfect cure for the night before, salty, umami and with a delicious crunch the salt and pepper salsify with a creamy flavoured mayo was a challenge accepted for hungover chopsticks. The tang and freshness of the cutesy pickles complemented the the five spice duck; succulent, moist and juicy (sorry just said the same thing three times) with rich maroon crisped skin that I had zero guilt for eating. This is what all hangovers should be provided with rather than Just Eat pizza you ordered the night before. To revitalize us further, the stir fried greens were my favourite dish. With seasonal additions like sprouts and the tenderstem broccoli cooked to perfection all sprinkled with sesame seeds, i could have eaten it all in perfect solitude, but alas, dating.

Luckily, Mr CrepeWaffle had interesting chat and talked plenty whilst I kept myself busy chopsticking more than my share of the duck probably. There was some awkwardness over the bill and then we left – me for the gym, which lasted five minutes as it turned out (luckily) that I’d left my trainers at home and him to pick up ingredients to bake (!).

All in all, the date wasn’t crepe, and though not all of his chat was waffle, there wont be a second one. Duck, Duck Goose however, when are you next free? When’s too soon to come back and see you again? Three days is the rule right?

Also, tall dishy waiter, one of you to go?

Go for some umami, quality Cantonese cooking that won’t leave you as greasy as your hangover hair.

Don’t go if you have the hangover shakes and can’t handle chopsticks.

The damage: not as bad as last night – £30 for two people



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