Until a few years ago, Mongolian food was nearly impossible to find in New York City, that is unless you had a Mongolian grandmother on speed dial or knew the secret menu of a Mongolian-owned sushi restaurant.
That all changed in early 2024, when Mongolian Momo King food cart rolled into the city and quickly grew a cult following. Every day, you’d find chef-owner Khurelbaatar “Kai” Ochir slinging noodles behind the window and joking with customers about his self-described Mongolian drip.
Now, this fan-favorite food cart has traded its wheels for a brick-and-mortar in the East Village at 327 East 12th Street. Open seven days a week, this small counter-service spot is operated by Ochir and his wife Franka Cappella, who handles design and operations.
Mongolian Momo King offers much more than steamed momos (dumplings), or what Mongolians call buuz. They dish out comfort dishes and handheld snacks, plus harder-to-find specialties like sheep offal soup during the winter months. Mongolian cuisine, according to Ochir, focuses on whole-animal cooking and techniques that let the ingredients themselves shine. “With too much sauce, you don’t taste the original flavor,” he says. The cooking showcases that unadulterated taste of lamb and beef, the gentle earthiness of toasted grains, and minimal sauce that doesn’t drown everything out.
The menu reflects this nose-to-tail philosophy: stir-fried noodles with beef called tsuivan, steamed buuz to pair with a trio of sauces, and khuushuur, a fried empanada-like pocket of beef shaped like a half moon. Bortstoi khiitstei tsai, Mongolian milk tea mixed with dried beef, toasted millet, and ghee, is served in an anthora cup and settles in your belly like warm, silky broth. If you’re a first-time customer, you might receive it on the house.
The restaurant also offers nontraditional dishes with Mongolian flavors, like the burger. For this dish, a flaky bread—inspired by roujiamo, a northwestern Chinese street food—gets stuffed with spiced lamb offal. “We have to keep growing and bringing Mongolian food to this century, while also respecting the culture and the tradition,” Cappella says. (And in case you’re wondering, the shop doesn’t serve Mongolian beef, a Taiwanese-invented dish with no connection to the country.)
From Comfort Food to Food Cart
Born and raised in Mongolia, Ochir dreamed of moving to New York after watching Home Alone 2. Around two decades ago, he seized an opportunity to come to the U.S. through a modeling gig and eventually found his way to New York’s bar and restaurant industry. In 2014, Ochir met Cappella in what felt like kismet; they had uncannily parallel life paths—professionally and spiritually—and also a shared vision for bringing people together.
In the early days of their relationship, Ochir offered to make one of his favorite comfort meals one day when Cappella was feeling under the weather. In his kitchen, he assembled a bowl of bituu shul, Mongolia’s soul-stirring soup with lamb sealed beneath a smooth blanket of steamed dough, plus a plate of hand-pleated beef momos. Cappella, who had never tried Mongolian food before that day, was astounded by the simple yet deeply nourishing meal. “It’s so sad,” she remembers telling Ochir. “There are so many people who go through life and have never had the opportunity to taste this.”
That epiphany stuck with the couple, even as they hopscotched between business opportunities and opened up a spirituality store together. In 2024, they returned to the idea of sharing Mongolian cuisine, starting with a food cart. Ochir didn’t have any formal culinary training, but he was determined to perfect the chewiest noodles and crispiest breads and solicited advice from chefs and customers on their lunch breaks.
Meanwhile, Cappella mastered the art of pleating buuz, to the extent that she could produce around 2,000 a day. Buoyed by support from returning customers, word of mouth, and viral Instagram videos, the cart became a popular destination. It was only after last year’s record-breaking heat wave—which soared above 100 degrees Fahrenheit inside the cart—that they considered looking for a permanent spot.
Rallying the Mongolian Diaspora
Just as the couple initially hoped, their food has rallied the broader Mongolian community. Last year, Erkhlen Gansukh, a student at Berklee College of Music, gave a throat singing performance outside the cart. Not long after, a Mongolian run club finished its route with a feast. These days, loyal customers return weekly, including a couple who ordered the lamb shol every day during the wife’s pregnancy.
As business picks up at the new location, they never want to forget why they first started. “This is more than a business,” Ochir says. “Even to this day, it’s a service to my country, a service to you.”
