Leil'Appetit

Since starting this blog in 2009, I’ve spent a considerable amount of time writing up reviews on local restaurants, sharing info on new food shops, and generally speaking doing a bit to help promote Edinburgh’s smaller ‘indies’.

So, what’s the dilemma? Where’s the beef? Well, it’s a little thing called consistency. Actually, a rather significant thing called consistency. Last weekend I went along to the newly-ish refurbished Old Chain Pier for some fish’n'chips by the water.It was a simple plan. Mum and I both craved fish and chips. We both ordered the dish, very reasonably priced at £8.95.

Service was friendly, chatty, helpful. Everything you’d expect from a wee place on a not-too busy Sunday afternoon. So how the server (after kindly giving my mum a sample of their draft cider) could then forget to serve the subsequent pint that was ordered is odd. So was the non-appearance of some additional tartare sauce which I ordered halfway through my food.

What was good about the meal? The fish. The haddock was as good as you’ll get anywhere. Beautiful fish, the white flesh only just cooked, the butterscotch coloured beer-batter was the perfect crunchy pocket to protect the fish. A decent side salad with dressing, tangy mushy peas, and a nice wedge of lemon. Ah, what’s missing in this glowing description? The chips.

Ugh. Smelly from old oil (which thankfully, the fish evidently hadn’t been cooked in) and the wrong type of non-fluffy potatoes. Finding a bit with any crispiness at all was a challenge. They were that weird combination of over-cooked yet still solid in the middle but not crispy. I think they might even have been genuinely hand-cut in the restaurant , but they were hell in a fry.

So, back to that consistency thing. I don’t mean homogenised, generic chain-restaurant identikit food that you’ll find a million times over across the globe. But, there’s something to be said for knowing you’re ordering chips or fries and that they’re not going to be left to languish there on the side of the plate.

All right, so I can tell you’re saying to yourself, ‘bad batch’ ‘give them a break’ and other such rational-person stuff. When I mentioned the sad chips scenario to Mr Friendly-but -Forgetful waiter he cheerily replied to me ‘Ah, yes, it’s about 50/50 on those. Half the people don’t seem to like them’.

Pause. Let me get this right. You already know that 50% of the people you send these chips out to DON’T LIKE THEM? I don’t think that’s a particularly good success rate, if you don’t mind me saying. Anyway. Suffice to say that next time the wee fish n chips craving comes over us, we’ll stick with somewhere we’re at least 80% likely to get decent chips.

And as a complete co-incidence, this week I also made my first ever visit to Nando’s on Thursday night for a bite before a work event. From very likely humble beginnings, Nando’s is now an international chain of identikit restaurants, specialising in spicy chicken. Ok, so I took some convincing and had the urge to apply a disguise as I entered but the whole experience wasn’t that bad at all. The staff were friendly, explaining the menu concept which I patiently listened to (upshot: choose chicken, choose how spicy you want it, where it says ‘salads’ is the section with the salads.) . We had pitta pockets with decently cooked and flavoured lemon and herb grilled chicken, some average undressed salad leaves and chips. Regular, generic semi-thin fries, every last one of which was crisp on the outside and fluffy in the middle. I bet they’re like that every time, too…

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‘Look! I whispered to the Silver Fox.’There. He’s doing it again!’ We’re having dinner in Locanda de Gusti and I’ve just noticed that Head Chef Rosario Sartore actually smiles at the moment he’s ready to hand his creations over. A little tweak of a garnish here, a quarter turn of the plate there, the smile, and it’s ready for service.

For anyone who’s still under the misapprehension that Italian cuisine mainly features cheese and tomato on top of some form of carbohydrate, I’d encourage a visit to this stylish restaurant for a masterclass in how big Mediterranean flavours can be presented carefully and enthusiastically. So much so, they’ve recently opened a small deli and shop so that everyone can take a little flavour home with them.The front of house team are effusive in their welcome, and brought us home-made rolls and antipasti to snack on whilst looking over the menu. An entire page is devoted to specialities from Scottish waters, and so to start, the Silver Fox netted himself the zuppa di pesce (£8.95). Almost overflowing from the bowl were just-cooked langoustine, clams, mussels, squid, and at the bottom a tangy broth with lively notes of tomato and basil. I embraced the authentic ‘pasta’ as first course option, and had the mezzannelli (£7.95) a skinny long macaroni with chunks of pancetta, sweet scallops and a light but creamy butternut squash sauce. My appetite surprised me, as nearly every one of the al dente little tubes disappeared from my plate!Next, I had the lamb rib chops (£16.95) with acacia honey, breadcrumbs served with saffron-scented couscous. The little lamb lollipops were succulent and garnished with a sprinkle of  rosemary, and the dish presented itself pretty close to perfect. With gusto, my amore approached his main course of orchiette pasta with an oxtail ragù (£11.95). It was topped with a generous dollop of soft ricotta which melted amongst the pasta.

Given the sheer enjoyment of the preceding courses, desserts (all £5.95) were a must! My fella had the show-stopping savarin al limone – a sweet, sticky cream-filled babà that just (but only just) overshadowed my ricotta and pear tart in its deliciousness.

The food, ambience and service were nothing short of exemplary, and I left knowing we’d return – pronto!

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It’s a little backwards to start a restaurant review with an apology, but that’s precisely what I owe both the owners of this new star of the Edinburgh restaurant dining scene, but to this blog’s readers too.  I’m sorry not that I’ve been lucky enough to eat here twice in the past month, yet that I’ve taken so long to get around to writing this and telling everyone about it.

A couple of years ago I wrote a Gourmet Girl column for Bite Magazine about the ‘original’ Edinburgh Larder café and deli at Blackfriars’ Street in the Old Town. The over-riding ethos has always been to provide tasty home-cooked food, made from seasonal ingredients which have been l0cally-sourced where possible. If you’re after a cup of tea and scone, or  a sharing platter and glass of wine with a friend, I can’t recommend the place highly enough.

To our great benefit, the demand has evidently been that we ‘burghers wanted MORE, and this call has been answered in the form of their new Bistro. On Alva Street, it’s in the basement premises of the old Howies restaurant. Gone are the gloomy crimson walls, and they’ve been replaced by the much cheerier blueish-green which is the Larder folks’ signature hue. Add in some blonde wood and it’s a much brighter prospect altogether.

The restaurant launched in June, in perfect time to coincide with UK Slow Food Week , and rather than having to run a special menu, it’s a major credit to the restaurant’s chef and the producers he works with that their ‘normal’ menu fits effortlessly with the movement’s ‘Good Clean Fair’ guiding ethics of how food lands on our plate in restaurants. 

The first night I ate there was a ‘soft opening’ and the food was really good, but on my return visit two weeks later that ‘really good’ had been upgraded to ‘amazing’. The menu features loads of local, seasonal Scottish fare, seafood and some really imaginative and tempting vegetarian options. There’s a bit of a Scandinavian twist in many of the dishes too, so the appealing flavours, textures and colours marry in things like the soused vegetables and foraged ingredients like elderflower.

My starter of hot-smoked salmon and heritage potato salad with watercress was as fresh a dish as you could hope for, the potatoes sporting  just enough of their crème fraiche dressing. A plate of food which pleases so much that when lunchtime rolls around the next day, you wish the ham and cheese sandwich in front of you had powers of transformation and that flaky salmon would suddenly appear. Mum’s meaty terrine with toast and soused veggies was so much better conceived than the ubiquitous pâté and chutney starter. 

On a menu that features dishes like Peelham Farm pork belly, skirt steak, hake, the fact that I opted for one of the vegetarian dishes is interesting. But listen to this description..’Spelt risotto, asparagus, foraged herbs, goat curd and lemon rapeseed’.  Trigger words, anyone? It was delicate, it was creamy, it was aromatic, it had texture, it was fresh. It was near enough perfection. Sadly, it really didn’t photograph particularly well, so I’ll spare you that one! Mum tucked in to the hake fillet with chunks of chorizo (again, I presume the Larder’s own version made down at Peelham Farm?) on bubble and squeak with salsa verde. Perfectly cooked fish, didn’t stick around for long, and played nicely with the Pinot Blanc.

As you may know, desserts are a bit of a sticking point for me, so the simplicity of the seasonal poached strawberries with meringue and lemon curd managed to be sweet and satisfying. Mum opted for the chocolate and salted caramel tart with malted ice cream. The rich, smooth chocolate filling was not for the meek, and respect to chef for the malted ice cream which wasn’t crazy on the sugar and had almost a savoury tang. The pastry (on both visits) needs some work by being thinned out and crisped up a notch, as its current version is a little ‘worthy’. A minor point, really.

Drinks are by no means an oversight either, so you can expect Scottish craft beers, a varied yet affordable wine list including my current crush, that  Alsace Pinot Blanc. Stupendous teas such as ‘Bloomin’ Marvellous’ from Eteaket are served in elegant tea pots. From  mum (an amiable yet ‘no punches held’ kind of dining companion) and I, the verdict is an effusive thumbs up.

Massive thanks to Eleanor, Joanne and Stuart for looking after me so well on both visits, and best of luck with The Edinburgh Larder Bistro!  Apologies for the horrible ‘filter effect’ iphone photos- sadly I forgot to bring black beauty with me for this assignment.

The Edinburgh Larder Bistro, 1a Alva Street, Edinburgh, EH2 4PH. Details at www.edinburghlarder.co.uk/bistro 

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On the glowing recommendation of our esteemed editor, I’d been meaning to try out Le Di-Vin for a while. The wine bar is housed in a former church, The Oratory of Saint Anne just beside the Tudor House, and also happens to be a mere minute from my work. On a belle of a June evening, Gourmet Mamman and I headed in to find a refreshingly unique venue.

The wine bar concept has peaked and troughed over the years, however with the nous of experienced restaurateur Virginie Brouard of La P’tite Folie fame, and her husband Ghislain’s wine trade expertise, you have the makings of a divine kind of a place.

Mile-high ceilings allow room for chatter from the busy bar to dissipate. Serving staff are spot-on with tips for a glass of refreshing white here, or a bite to eat there. The towering wine case behind the bar really is the star of the show, and with around 50 wines available by the glass, there’s every opportunity to take a grand tour of the world’s vineyards.

A table up on the high mezzanine level was great for people-watching, and we pledged to stick with French wines for the night. A glass of buttery white Burgundy for me and a particularly zesty Sancerre for mum started things off well, accompanied by a bowl of what I reckon are the best mixed olives in this fair city. If the wine list impresses (and truly it does) then prepared to be vraiment impressioné by the simple classic food offer which focuses on sharing platters, or planchettes.

A mixed platter with a selection of cheese and meats was recommended, and when brought to the table, the waiter’s reverential and diligent naming of each and every item on the board allowed us to drink in those hallowed names of the finest French and continental cheeses and charcuterie. Brie de Meaux, Livarot, Bleu D’Auvergne and other perfect temperature fromages, sat alongside a chunky home-made pâté de campagne, salty Jambon de Bayonne, and other delectable saucissons. Accompanying crusty rustic bread, a few crunchy cornichons, fresh green grapes were the quality finishing touches to make this feel like full dining experience rather than a bar snack after-thought. Amen to that!

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