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Contained within a note on my phone is an ever expanding list of restaurants I want to eat at. The majority of them in London. So every time I’m back in the capital, even if I’m just passing through, I always hit somewhere new for lunch or dinner or sometimes both, often with some grazing in-between. Don’t be shocked. I think it’s been well established over the years what a spectacularly greedy bastard I am.
As I was back in London last week, for the first time in frigging ages. I decided to have lunch at Lyle’s in Shoreditch. Running the kitchen is Chef James Lowe. Formerly of the Young Turks; a trio of chefs, who, after impressing London collaboratively a few years back, have all gone on to rather awesome things. Upstairs at the Ten Bells and The Clove Club to name but two. Seeing as I absolutely bloody love both of these, my expectations were pretty high.
But first, the simple task of actually finding the restaurant. I’m a pretty punctual guy, I arrived in Shoreditch with plenty of time to spare. I was looking hip and feeling rather louche, as befits the general vibe of the area. The map application on my phone was telling me that Lyle’s was just there, but could I bloody see it? Pizza East, yes. Hipster central, Shoreditch House, yeah, restaurant I have a lunch reservation at? No. I walked up and down the street, increasingly confused and flustered, whilst my own wafer thin veneer of hip was seemingly melting away like a badly applied coat of cheap spray tan.
In the end, I walked into a warehouse office space and asked the receptionist if she knew where Lyle’s was. Barely containing the urge to pull an imbecilic ‘Duh’ expression at me, she simply pointed behind me and to the left. I’d walked straight past it.
On time, just and presenting myself at the front desk of Lyle’s, I was again thrown out of kilter by the aloof manner of the girl manning the reservation laptop. I know it’s cool Shoreditch, dahling and it’s the latest shit-hot restaurant and all that, but would it have killed her to crack a smile and try and appear friendly? Surely it’s a prerequisite of meeting and greeting to flash those pearly whites and actually make the customer feel, I don’t know….welcome?
Ignoring the bad start and determined to enjoy my lunch, I was shown to my table and immediately things improved. My waiter was friendly, cheerful, professional and knowledgeable as he talked me through the menu. Aaaaand relax.
The restaurant space itself feels very large, light and airy as you’d expect from a former tea warehouse, it actually reminds me of the industrial type space you initially walk into at St John in Clerkenwell, which strangely brings me onto the food.
James Lowe has previously worked at St John and it shows. Something of the Fergus Henderson’s influence is seemingly ingrained in every chef who has worked in one of his kitchens. The menu, the ingredients, the plating style, the look of the restaurant, you can just see it and it’s a very good thing. I say this because I ate at new Bristol restaurant, Birch a few days previous to this, and the chef, Sam Leach is formerly of the St John Hotel, his menu, his food, the ingredients that he’s using and even the Spartan look of his restaurant are in some ways similar to Lyle’s, which in turn is somehow reminiscent of St John.
Given that connection, as you’d expect, the menu at Lyles is very British and extremely seasonal. I wanted to order the whole frigging lot from the selection of small plates, but restrained myself to just two.
Asparagus and walnut mayonnaise, very simple but beautifully done. I absolutely love asparagus and can’t get enough when it’s in season, but I really ordered this because I was intrigued by the pairing with a walnut mayonnaise, something which is entirely new to me. It was delicious and worked really well.
The highlight of my lunch and another early contender for the best thing I’ve put in my mouth all year (snigger), Lamb’s sweetbreads, ramson and lettuce. Beautiful to look at, incredible to eat. This was by far the best plate of sweetbreads I ever eaten, anywhere. They were massive, cooked just right and tasted superb with the wild garlic and lettuce. Truly lovely.
Resisting the urge to order another plate of sweetbreads, I continued stuffing myself with meat, moving onto a full sized plate of food. Saddleback, land cress and anchovy. Very simple and St John’esque in appearance. A beautifully cooked piece of pork, paired unusually with an intense anchovy sauce. It was delicious.
At this point, I should mention the excellent bread and butter seeing as I wolfed down two plates of it and while I’m at it, I should also mention the wine, recommended to me by one of the Lyle’s sommelier’s via Twitter (she wasn’t working the lunch shift), Cotes du Jura ‘La Pierre’, 2011, Les Granges de Quatre Sous. It was totally banging. Superb at £7 a glass.
Finally, dessert. Having eaten a rather nice treacle tart at ‘Birch’ a couple of days before, I decided to forgo that option on the menu (those similarities again) Instead I went for Rhubarb and Custard. Consisting of a cold, whipped custard heaped on top of beautiful rhubarb, lightly poached and a quenelle of rhubarb sorbet. It was cracking.
So, I loved Lyle’s. Ignoring the initial rather brusque greeting, I thought the service fantastic and the food beautiful in it’s simplicity. Similar to the grub at St John, but pimped. The lamb sweetbread dish was one of the best things I've ever eaten and I harbour some disappointment that I didn’t manage to eat my way through the entire menu. All in all, I had a stonking lunch. I’ll definitely be going back for more.
Lyle’s
Tea Building
56 Shoreditch High Street
London
E1 6JJ
Telephone: 0203 011 5911
http://www.lyleslondon.com
I first met Sam and Becky not long after I moved to Bristol. I’d gone along to their supper club and was so taken with what they were doing, it actually inspired me and my ex-partner, Elly to start our own supper club, The Basement, which we ran for two years.
Apart from Sam and Becky’s food, which was excellent, what impressed me most whenever I talked to them was their almost single-minded dedication to someday owning and running their own restaurant. They obviously really wanted it.
Determined to learn as much as they could, and make it happen, Sam did some training as a butcher and then as a baker, before undertaking a career as a chef whilst Becky worked as a waitress in a couple of cracking Bristol restaurants, Culinaria and Flinty Red. A couple of years ago, they both moved to London and worked in some seriously good places, Sam at the St John Hotel and 40 Maltby Street, Becky at Hawksmoor and the Quality Chop House, before recently moving back to Bristol, having learnt loads and still determined to open their own place.
I ran into Sam a few months back and he told me he’d found a site, South of the river, over near the Tobacco Factory and that he and Becky were doing the majority of the building work and fitting out themselves.
That was then, this is now and wouldn't you know, all that work and determination has finally paid off. Sam and Becky opened their own restaurant, Birch last week and I'm seriously frigging delighted to say that it’s superb.
I wouldn't normally write a review based on a soft opening, it’s not really fair on the restaurant to judge them while they’re ironing out a myriad of unforeseen opening weekend problems, but the crew at Birch absolutely nailed it, hit the ground running and didn't put a foot wrong, so here it is.
Located on the corner of Rayleigh and Birch Roads (hence the name) and just down the street from The Tobacco Factory, it’s a little off the beaten track. It’s a real neighbourhood restaurant location, but is so bloody good it should be drawing people in from all over the city and beyond.
The interior is very plain, very white, with a small bar at the back and 50’s style Formica topped tables. Massive windows on both sides of the dining room, flood the space with light. It all feels a bit Scandinavia via Hackney, which is no bad thing.
The menu however is rooted very much in Britain with excellent local, seasonal produce featuring heavily. Except that Sam and Becky have taken it a step further and have secured an allotment space where they’re growing their own fruit and vegetables for the restaurant.
The food itself is, unsurprisingly given Sam’s background, very much recognisable in the style of St John. Fergus Henderson’s very British, unfussy manner rubs off heavily on anyone who has served time in one of his kitchens (I ate at Lyle’s in Shoreditch a couple of days later and the influence is obvious there too). However, Sam’s food is much less Spartan with more of a flourish and I like that. The food at St John is undoubtedly excellent but can be pretty uncompromising to look at.
With a trio of nibbles, three starters, three mains, a small selection of ices, puddings and a local cheese, the menu is perfectly formed, short and concise.
Kicking the meal off with a bone dry Manzanilla sherry I picked at an assortment of snacks, excellent anchovy biscuits which were deliciously salty with just a subtle fishy hit on the finish. Fresh radishes with a herb mayonnaise, a particular favourite of mine and devilled almonds, perfectly complimenting the sherry although I reckoned these needed a bit more of a pokey chilli whack.
I have to mention the bread and the butter, both made by Sam at the restaurant and both bloody lovely.
A starter of duck and pork pie, chicory, hazelnut and mustard salad however was absolutely faultless. Perfect pastry, encasing quivering redcurrant jelly surrounding an offal tinged slab of duck and pork. Holy Moly, it was seriously good.
My mate, Jemma meanwhile was scoffing a plate of asparagus, hot butter and crumbs, which by all accounts was every bit as good as it sounds. I didn't get a picture, you’ll just have to imagine what that looked like.
At the end of the year, when I'm mulling over meals past, I strongly suspect that my next course of roast hogget leg, mash, chard and anchovy sauce will easily rank up there as one of the best things I ate all year. The lamb was so beautifully cooked, solid slabs of dusky pink meat surrounded by a dark burnished crust, I was certain it must have been cooked sous-vide (I was wrong, it was roasted in a low oven). Combined with the umami punch of the anchovy sauce, perfect mash (I'm a mash fiend, believe me when I say it was perfect) and colourful buttery chard, the whole thing was pretty near as dammit perfect as its possible to be and absolutely beautiful to look at.
Across the table, Jemma was feeling similarly emosh about her plate of hake, brown crab, Cornish new potatoes and spring onions. I cadged a sneaky forkful and yep, it was as lovely as it looked.
On a roll and taking no prisoners, I demolished a scoop of marmalade and whisky ice cream, which had a suitably satisfying whack of both ingredients. Lovely.
I then moved onto a rather nice treacle tart with clotted cream before finishing off with a plate of Bath Soft cheese and crackers whilst my friend Jemma looked on aghast at the gout taunting gluttonous display of excess, playing out opposite.
When people ask where they should eat in Bristol, there’s just three places I always recommend. My personal favourites, Bell’s Diner, Wallfish and Flinty Red. After this meal, I'm going to add a fourth, Birch.
It’s that good.
Sam is a superb chef, he obviously adores what he’s doing, his food is frigging excellent, both he and Becky have worked really hard to achieve their dream and that passion, that drive and that love for what they’re doing shines through.
Go and enjoy it.
Birch
47 Raleigh Road,
Southville
Bristol
BS3 1QS
Telephone: 01179 028 326
http://birchbristol.co
You may have noticed I recently spent some time in Edinburgh, basically eating every bloody thing I could lay my hands on. This unrepentant, gluttonous bout of restaurant debauchery, all in the dubious honour of my 40th birthday, almost broke me. Honestly, I didn’t think it was possible for me to experience, but this ridiculously indulgent, self-inflicted, surfeit of fine food and wine left me dazed, bloated, craving any form of salad and with the nagging feeling that if I even glimpsed another tasting menu I’d throw myself to the floor and start having a tantrum.
At this, my lowest point, I flew back to London where a now, distinctly unwanted, dinner reservation at The Clove Club awaited. Seriously, I’d just had enough; I didn’t fancy it at all, despite wanting to eat there for some time. At the appointed hour of doom I dutifully dragged my sorry ass over to Shoreditch, and all credit to the restaurant, I’m happy to say this jaded, overindulged, miserable old f*cker had a really cracking meal.
The restaurant itself is located in the old Shoreditch town hall, which makes for a rather grand entrance. I headed straight into the packed, dimly lit bar and immediately felt better. These things are hard to define sometimes, but for me the room had a good vibe. Led to my table in the dining room, out back, and I perked up even more. There’s something of a St John’ish feel to the rather austere looking room, with an open kitchen at one end, bare wooden tables, battered white walls and moody lighting. I loved it. Seriously, if I had my own restaurant I’d like to imagine it would look just like this. It was packed out, and as with the bar next door there was a nice buzz about it, which was a welcome antidote to some of the hushed fine dining I’d just recently experienced in Edinburgh.
There is only one choice in the restaurant, a set menu at £47. Fair enough.
I’d eaten the buttermilk fried chicken & pine salt before at their sister restaurant, Upstairs at The Ten Bells, so knew what to expect and also knew not to tuck into the bed of pine branches (so tempting). What to say, it’s absolutely delicious and easy to see why it’s become such a signature dish.
Radishes, black sesame and gochuchang, a fermented Korean condiment made from red chilli, glutinous rice and soybeans, followed. An interesting take on the classic radishes with salt and butter, the fiery, buttery texture of the gochuchang and the nuttiness of the sesame seeds worked really well.
Wood pigeon sausage & greengage ketchup was bloody stunning. My only complaint would be the microscopic dimensions of the measly frigging little taster piece I was presented with. I’m looking at the menu right now and it definitely says ‘sausages’ not ‘sawn off sausage nub’. Oh well, still, it was very nice and definitely left me wanting more…bastards.
Spartanly presented, Scottish blood pudding, celeriac and red william pear was probably my least favourite of the dishes I ate. The flavour combination of the black pudding, pear and celeriac was lovely but I think I’ve been a little spoilt by Trealy Farm’s rather excellent boudin noir. Every other black pudding I’ve tried just doesn’t come close in flavour or texture, including this.
The next dish arrived, BBQ squid, tarragon and the intriguingly named, green meat radishes (I asked and disappointingly it’s just that the flesh is green…oh). The squid was perfectly cooked, a feat which seems to elude a fair few restaurants. The unusual tarragon and radish combination worked well. Nothing to blow my socks off, just a good solid plate of food.
Aged featherblade of beef, Jerusalem artichoke and horseradish, however was absolutely bloody awesome. The meat was so ridiculously sticky, tender and rich. This is my idea of a perfect plate of wintery grub, I sat there transfixed, a big grin on my face as I shovelled forkful after forkful it into my mouth, enjoying every last bit and feeling genuinely disappointed when there was nothing left but a plate scraped bare.
Luckily for me the next course was also something of a standout. A bowl of Amalfi lemonade & black pepper ice cream was just incredible. Ridiculously soft, warm and mousse like on top with a contrasting cooler temperature deeper down and an almost effervescent, sherbet tingle on the tongue. Unbelievable. I bloody loved this.
Warm quince, vanilla cream and gingerbread was nice enough. Really, what’s not to like about that combination of flavours? Although I found the gingerbread to be a little tough perhaps; I couldn’t cut through it with my spoon without sending it skidding across the plate. So rather than end up with it in my lap and utilising the years I spent in that posh finishing school, I picked it up and got stuck in.
Coffee came with an addition. A bar of The Clove Club’s own chocolate flavoured with almond. I thought this was a really nice and unusal touch.
But not quite as good as the final flourish. A lurid green pill, sitting atop a note collectively praising Fernet Branca (the Italian medicinal tasting, herbal drink), Fergus Henderson and his St John restaurant. There followed a recipe for a Dr Henderson cocktail, (Named after Fergus’s Father, a combination of crème de menthe and Fernet, it’s something of an acquired taste).
Popping the pill into my mouth, it broke and I could taste the unmistakable flavour of the aforementioned cocktail flooding across my tongue, lovely.
That I enjoyed my meal at The Clove Club so much, despite arriving with an unusually negative mindset of not really wanting to eat at another restaurant, just goes to show how good it actually is.
The restaurant itself is lovely both in atmosphere and design. The service was spot on and the food itself was incredibly inventive, fun and interesting as well as beautifully cooked. Yeah, a couple of the dishes were a bit more workmanlike than jaw droppingly impressive but the aged featherblade of beef and the Amalfi lemondade and black pepper ice cream were so astoundingly impressive, they’re kind of a hard act to follow.
The Clove Club, yeah, loved it.
The Clove Club
Shoreditch Town Hall
380 Old Street
London
EC1 9LT
If right now you could gaze upon my complexion, you’d probably note how untroubled by the ravages of time it is, how peach like and bursting full of moisture I obviously am and just how damn youthful I look. If I then told you that I turn 40 at the end of this week, and I recently spent three days in Edinburgh, celebrating my fourth decade on the planet by eating pretty much everywhere, your jaw would no doubt hit the floor. You’d definitely have had me pegged at 18.Yeah. But no, people, seriously I’m at least halfway dead. Party!
But that’s enough about me, lets talk about you. What do you think about me? (leave comments). No seriously, moving on. By far the best meal I ate during my stay in Edinburgh was also the most reasonably priced. This aspect impressed me no end. The restaurant was The Castle Terrace and I am declaring myself completely smitten.
Located, strangely enough, on the end of a Terrace in the shadow of Edinburgh castle, the Michelin starred restaurant is part of Tom Kitchin’s Scottish empire, with Dominic Jack, the head chef.
I’d booked for lunch, before flying back to London later that afternoon and only really had my eye on the set lunch menu, the a la carte being a bit more robustly priced.
The dining room itself had a nice feel to it with a warm, relaxed vibe.
A selection of rather interesting looking canapés came first. Salt cod barbajuan (let me just say now, I had no frigging idea what a barbajuan was, it turns out it’s Monaco’s national dish and is a deep fried savoury pastry) this example was matt black and spiky, almost fetishist in appearance and incredible to look at. It was also absolutely delicious. Next a perfectly miniature burger flavoured with caper and cumin which was also delicious. Finally a ‘Caesar Salad’ in the form of a spherical green jelly, which I had been advised to eat in one bite. It impressed me no end that the flavour that flooded my mouth as I bit into it was indeed the Parmesan, crouton, lettuce, anchovy and creamy dressing taste of the classic salad. I’ve got to say, these were bloody awesome canapés, some of the best and most inventive I’ve eaten anywhere. I was really sitting up and taking notice now.
Chewing on some excellent bread and butter, brought to the table in a tartan bag arrangement, designed to keep it warm (it did) I couldn’t wait to see what was coming next.
An appetiser billed as ‘baked potato with cheese’ came next. Consisting of a potato veloute with a dusting of savoury spices on the top. I dipped in with my spoon and broke into a deep fried molten ball of cheese hidden at the bottom. Lovely.
I rarely ever order squid in a restaurant. I find it’s often pretty bland and ridiculously easy to cook badly, but I went for it thinking this would be a real test of how good the cooking was.
Jackpot!
Look at the photo, how beautiful is that for a plate of food? What I initially thought was a risotto underneath the candy-striped cylinder of squid stuffed with a fish mousse was in fact tiny pieces of squid. The whole dish was so elegant and so incredibly impressive in its construction I just found myself staring at it. The spell broken with my fork plunging into the cannelloni and dipping it into the accompanying garlic and parley sauces, I’ve got to say not only was it a looker, but it tasted amazing. Yep and as you’d expect the squid was perfectly cooked too.
A pithivier of ox tongue with autumnal vegetables followed. As with the previous dish, I spent a bit of quality ‘me’ time just admiring the incredible precision of the pastry work and the dish in general. It was so perfect it almost felt a shame to eat the bloody thing. Suppressing any feelings of guilt, I waded in, carefully constructing a forkful consisting of a bit of everything, as is my way. Yeah, it was amazing. The deeply savoury ox tongue filling, combined with the mash and the vegetables was basically perfect autumn comfort food tarted up and refined beyond belief. I loved it.
Locally foraged sea buckthorn featured on a cheesecake served with chocolate sorbet. As with everything else, the presentation was incredible but this was probably the least impressive course I ate. I wasn’t entirely convinced by the combination of chocolate and sea buckthorn, I thought the sharpness of the berries was slightly overwhelmed by the richness of the chocolate flavours. That’s me being finicky. I don’t mind saying it was still good and I ate the lot.
With coffee accompanying petits fours and a tip, my bill came to £39, which for that standard of cooking felt almost ridiculous. I’d had a bit of an excess of booze the night before, so this didn’t include any alcohol, I stuck with water.
I bloody loved The Castle Terrace. As I said previously I thought it was by far the best meal I ate in Edinburgh. The service was pitch perfect, not too friendly, not too stuffy and formal (Restaurant Martin Wishart take note) the food was undoubtedly amazing. So elegant and beautifully cooked but with really inventive and interesting touches. I honestly couldn’t have been more impressed. It’s easily one of the best lunches I’ve eaten this year; in fact, I’d go so far as to say it’s up there as one of the best lunches I’ve eaten full stop. That the set lunch menu is such an incredible bargain just makes it that much more impressive.
If you’re in Edinburgh, you must eat here. No question.
The Castle Terrace
33/35 Castle Terrace
Edinburgh
EH1 2EL
Telephone: 0131 229 1222
http://www.castleterracerestaurant.com
Remember in my last post when I said that I carefully researched which restaurants I ate at and therefore rarely eat a crap meal? Well, I'm disheartened to report that Restaurant Martin Wishart in Edinburgh recently tested the limits of this somewhat. To be fair, it was about as far from crap as it’s possible to get, but I didn’t enjoy it nearly half as much as I thought I would, especially when choking on the eye watering bill at the end of the meal.
Here’s how it went down….
The restaurant is located on the harbourside in Leith, Edinburgh’s old port area, with the entrance itself picked out by hot pink glowing lights. I initially thought it might be a brothel. Carefully concealing my extreme disappointment when I realised it was in fact the restaurant I’d booked a table at, I stepped through the front door to be greeted by the French maitre d’.
Now, as you can well imagine, being from the Essex hinterland, I’m a frigging classy dude and I’ve eaten in any number of ‘posh restaurants’ and invariably felt entirely at home. To the manor born (OK, ‘manor’ in the Arthur Daley sense, but still). Martin Wishart was different. I didn’t feel comfortable here. Glancing around the softly lit dining room, I noticed all the other diners, without fail, were extremely dressed up. Evening dresses, suits and ties. Uncomfortably aware of my own, less salubrious attire (tracksuit bottoms tucked into sport socks, deep V t-shirt and novelty tartan cap with attached ginger wig), I couldn’t help but feel underdressed. I may have been slightly more tastefully attired, but you get the point.
This was a temple to fine dining populated by an obviously wealthy clientele and for probably the first time ever eating in a restaurant, I felt slightly on edge.
Maybe things would improve when I got stuck into the food, which in this case was to be the tasting menu at £75
An amuse of beetroot macarons, one with horseradish, and another with carrot and cornichon were an interesting idea, but perhaps a little too subtly flavoured for me.
Another amuse followed, to be eaten, I was informed in an almost impenetrable French accent, in a specific order left to right; courgette, basil, curry oil and espelette pepper which was very nice. Pomme dauphine, crème fraiche and smoked salmon, which was curiously presented sitting on a piece of scrunched up tin foil, still, lovely. Finally a warm chicken parfait, Parmesan veloute and port reduction, also cracking.
Partridge ravioli, cabbage with sage, truffle sauce followed and was absolutely banging. A rich meaty ravioli filling in a creamy and beautifully flavoured truffle sauce. Seriously, what’s not to like?
Next, a glass containing a ceviche of Gigha halibut with mango & passion fruit was obviously much subtler. Again, it was bloody delicious, seriously good. Fresh tasting and light, I could have finished off a pint of this rather than the demure martini glassful I’d had to make do with.
Loch Fyne crab ‘Marie Rose’ consisting of a tartare of rose veal, tomato and crab mayonnaise arrived at the table beautifully presented in an attractive glassware dish with pebbles and shells suspended in a bowl underneath. As with the previous dishes, the food itself was beautifully flavoured. The rose veal tartare, subtle and cool against the silky richness of the crab mayonnaise.
Roasted veal sweetbreads were served sitting on a chestnut puree, surrounded by a moat of potato veloute. A bit beige perhaps, but it had knock out flavours. I have a bit of a thing for both sweetbreads and potatoes, in any form, so it was hard to fault really.
The following dish was the main event, roast loin of Ayrshire hare, pastille of braised leg, red cabbage, port wine, braised turnips and dauphine potato. Technically it was an impressive dish. The tiny pastille of braised leg were elegantly cylindrical, crisp and stuffed full of rich meat. The potato dauphine, deep fried potato mixed with choux pastry were perfectly cooked as was the loin of hare, which was delicious.
As I ate, I ear wigged on my next-door neighbours’ conversation. A pair of solicitors discussing cases of wine they had in their respective cellars and how one of them had once spanked over a grand on lunch, which probably goes some way in exemplifying the majority of my fellow diners. I was tempted to join in with an excessive anecdote of my own concerning the consumption of multiple doner kebabs during a drunken night out in Essex.
Dessert was phenomenal. I’m struggling to describe what exactly it was, the menu description is just ‘salted caramel’ but it was somewhere between a cheesecake and a thick toffee like caramel mousse, partnered with poached Guyot pear, peanuts and a pear sorbet, it really was something special.
Coffee and rather lovely petits fours, consisting of whisky truffles, a majari chocolate macaron, spiced orange and mandarin, coffee ganache and salted caramel, rounded things off.
That, with two glasses of wine and service came to £109. One of the most expensive meals I’ve ever had (no thousand pound lunches here, sadly) and as I said at the beginning of the post, I didn’t enjoy it half as much as I thought I would. The food was superb and hard to fault really. Expensive ingredients, beautifully cooked and prepared, lovely.
The problem I had with Restaurant Martin Wishart was the incredibly stuffy, fine dining vibe, the entire French front of house team, albeit consummately pleasant and professional, were always slightly stand offish and gave out a slightly aloof air. It’s hard to put my finger on what was up, but I’ve eaten in enough ‘posh’ restaurants to know that here, I just didn’t feel comfortable and therefore didn’t really enjoy the experience. For examples of restaurants that get it right, both The Ledbury and The Square manage to strike the perfect balance between a fine dining experience and warm, professional front of house.
This was the most expensive meal I ate on my stay in Edinburgh and I’m sad to say, the one I probably enjoyed the least, despite the food being excellent.
Restaurant Martin Wishart
54 Shore,
Edinburgh,
Midlothian
EH6 6RA
Telephone: 0131 553 3557
http://www.restaurantmartinwishart.co.uk
Some may have noticed I rarely write bad reviews of restaurants. Not because I lack the killer instinct to critique or have a desperate urge to please with fawning adulation, no. My generally upbeat reviews are down to a matter of moolah or to be honest, the lack of it.
You see, almost every restaurant I visit, I research carefully first. It’s almost certainly somewhere I genuinely want to experience, in some cases somewhere I’ve wanted to eat at for years. The dull, the mediocre the dire and the downright shit will have been meticulously identified and studiously avoided. I just don’t have the cash to piss up the wall on rubbish restaurants. If I’m going to eat anywhere, I try my hardest to ensure it’s good. It doesn’t always work out that way to be fair, but my success rate is pretty impressive. It’s extremely rare that I eat a crap meal. Life is far too short to eat badly.
So far, so good. But on a recent visit to Edinburgh, I broke all my own rules and ate lunch at a restaurant I pretty much knew sod all about. I’d had a couple of recommendations, sure, but when I turned up at the door trying to cadge a table for one, I didn’t even know what type of food they were serving.
Luckily, as it turned out, I hit the frigging jackpot and had one of the best lunches of the trip.
Located in an old converted timber yard (hence the name, cunning) the restaurant itself is large, light and incredibly stylish in a Scandinavian meets contemporary Scottish kind of way. I took a seat by the wood burner whilst resting the menu on a heavy reclaimed wood table and admired a tartan throw artfully draped over the back of some kind of metal framed design classic chair. It felt like I’d stepped into the pages of a trendy lifestyle mag. Of course, as you’d imagine I was entirely at home in such a setting but still, tres stylised.
The stylishness continued when my bottle of water was placed on a sawn off tree trunk perched next to the table. Totes organic trendy.
The menu has an interesting ‘bite’ section, basically amuse to get you started. I ordered a couple.
Ham hock jelly, quails egg, toast, cress, mushroom and apple featured on the set lunch menu and was delicious with a lovely delicate balance of flavours. A set meat jelly isn’t something I’d considered before as a main component of a dish but it worked beautifully.
My second ‘bite’; cured mallard, pickled roots, nuts and lichen was decent but perhaps just a little underwhelming compared to the ham hock dish. I thought it needed something else in there, just to lift it a bit more. In any case I’d ordered this dish because the idea of eating lichen was intriguing. Unfortunately I couldn’t pick the individual flavour out.
I should mention the bread, which was great and served with a side plate of whipped butter, juniper smoked black pepper and Hebredian sea salt with rosemary. I bet I know what you’re thinking. I thought the same. It all sounds incredibly pretentious and just a bit poncey. But you know what? It actually worked and the flavours actually came through. Anyone watching would have seen my facial impression change from bemused sneer to smiling approval by the time I’d stuffed the last piece of bread into my mouth.
The next dish, a starter of raw roe deer, smoked and pickled beetroot, bramble and spiced bread was superb. The roe deer, chopped into a coarse tartare had a beautiful subtle gamey flavour. The plating style was interesting, with the food arranged outwards from the centre of the plate in a line.
I followed this up with an absolutely banging plate of Lamb loin and belly, beetroot, kohlrabi, kale, radish and whipped potato. The lamb was beautifully cooked with the rich belly meat tasting particularly impressive.
A dessert of locally foraged sea buckthorn, crowdie (a type of Scottish cream cheese) carrot and biscuit was one of the best things I ate on the whole Edinburgh trip. It was on the set lunch menu at £5 and I just couldn’t believe the amount of work that had obviously gone into this dessert, at such a ridiculously low price. Consisting of a sea buckthorn granita and a jelly, whipped crowdie an unusual carrot sorbet (which was absolutely delicious) a frozen vanilla parfait and sheets of meringue. I know all the work is in the preparation, and assembly would take no time at all, but still, f*ck, a fiver! It was phenomenal.
At this point I headed downstairs to the loo and was intrigued by the pommel horse (obviously for a bit of pre-piss gymnastics) and the industrial tapping and water dripping sounds piped through the speakers. Very unusual but also weirdly cool.
I loved Timberyard. The whole place felt seemingly effortlessly cool and stylish, but as is often not the case when using those words to describe anywhere, it also felt very welcoming. Put simply, it had a good vibe.
The food itself is incredibly interesting and quiet unlike anything I’ve eaten lately. I’m trying to think of somewhere comparable and I’m drawing a blank. Believe me, that’s a good thing. Everything I ate was delicious but the lamb dish in particular was lovely and the sea buckthorn dessert was seriously impressive. Kernel table beer was available as well, which gets the whole place an extra massive thumbs up from me.
If you find yourself in Edinburgh, definitely go and eat here.
Timberyard
10 Lady Lawson Street,
Edinburgh
EH3 9DS
http://www.timberyard.co/index.php
