THANK god for old people. Peebles chef Ally McGrath certainly does. As a kid growing up in the super-annuated Borders community, he was faintly embarrassed by its reputation as Scotland's most geriatric settlement. But returning to his home town, he has found its silver-tinted age profile to be a dream come true.
Until a little less than 18 months ago, he was the part-owner and chef at the Halcyon, in Peebles, one of the Borders' best restaurants – thanks in large part to his input, after a long apprenticeship spent learning his craft at august establishments
such as Le Manoir aux Quat' Sainsons and Odette's. Yet McGrath worried that the Halcyon, tucked away in a small space above Villeneuve Wines, was too small, so he and fiancé Helen bought the bigger and long-established Silver Spoon tearoom, right on the high street. With big picture windows looking out on the street, it was in a perfect position to attract passing trade.
More importantly, it already had a decent customer base to build on, especially among the town's more senior citizens. After adding to the baking, he started serving simple but appetising lunches that encompassed everything from comfort-food options to more exotic offerings. The result is the Silver Spoon being packed out every lunchtime, and for most of the day. The success of the daytime operation means that when the sun goes down, and the Silver Spoon morphs into Osso restaurant, McGrath has the financial freedom to be as experimental and idiosyncratic as he wants.
The upshot of all this is some of the best food in Scotland. McGrath's work at the Halcyon was very good, but at Osso it's virtually flawless. Outstanding value, devoid of culinary clichés and using the finest local produce, this meal was one of the most enjoyable and least pretentious of my year.
Not that it started out that well. I was eating with Alasdair and his son Lewis, a student and vegetarian whose commitment doesn't extend to avoiding fish. Having ordered the hand-dived Isle of Skye scallops with artichoke, apples and spice sauce, he was confronted with a plate that included a foreign body he couldn't identify, but which was clearly meaty. It was a beautiful slab of foie gras, which I quickly removed from the equation.
If the chef's defence was entertainingly combative ("Call yerself a veggie, and you still eat fish; what sort of vegetarian does that make you?"), Lewis seemed blithely unconcerned, largely because he was busy polishing off a starter that was not only beautifully presented but which offered a perfect mélange of flavours. Nor was he the only one of our trio stopped in their tracks by the quality of his starter. Alasdair's cured duck breast was gloriously dry and tangy, and was served with a subtle prune purée that was the perfect complement.
But it was my starter that provided the first indication of this meal shaping up to be a memorable one. Beetroot risotto with a blue cheese croquette doesn't do justice to a dish of deep, rich tones that were at times overwhelming and were combined with an explosion of hot cheese from the croquette. With a small ring of pesto to garnish, this was as close to perfect as makes no difference.
If my main course was an imperceptible step downwards, it was perhaps inevitable. Once again Alasdair and Lewis had dishes that were fresh and contemporary: the silver mullet with crushed potatoes, broad beans and morels was probably the pick of the two, but Lewis's sea bass fillet with lemongrass broth and noodles wasn't far behind. I chose the roasted hare loin with braised leg, carrot purée, mash and spring cabbage. The two strips of loin were perhaps not as gamey as I would personally choose, and could have done with a little more sauce, but they were nicely tender and the puréed carrot was an ideal accompaniment.
If our mains were good, the puddings were fantastic. My mango cheesecake bore no relation to a conventional version, coming in two separate parts: one a mango coulis, the other a velvety smooth soft cheese, both served with a smattering of crumbs and some small cubes of concentrated mango jelly. Lewis's warm pistachio cake looked rather like a small slice of green battenburg, and came with griottine cherries (small, sour cherries soaked in brandy) and an almost-liquid goat's cheese sauce – a combination that sounds grim but worked brilliantly.
We rounded off with coffee and excellent petit fours, ending sated but not bloated. Which is the point at which McGrath came out to chat, touring the room with a forthright bonhomie that seemed to strike the right chord with his customers. But it soon became clear that this was because most of our fellow diners were regulars – which is no surprise, because if I had Osso on my doorstep I'd be a regular too.It's when the light fades that the Silver Spoon tearoom really shines
