MY BOYFRIEND, Rolf, and I were a little surprised when we met outside this place on a recent Friday evening. Its name had conjured an image of the restaurant equivalent of a huggable, welcoming person, with a glass of port in one hand and a touch of gout in the other. However, our expectations were stumped by pitch darkness behind the door and the "thump, thump, thump" of bass-heavy music in the background. Still, as we'd heard good rumblings about this eating and drinking establishm
Before long, a waiter, who was the doppelganger of 1990s heart-throb Howard Orange from Take That (complete with ponytail and waistcoat), whisked us off to a quieter area at the back, lit by a candle stuffed into an empty Pol Roger champagne bottle.
Shortly after dropping off the menu with us, he returned to take our orders, which we'd narrowed down from the five entrée choices that are also offered as 'bites' (that is, "slightly less measly than canapés") at £1 each. At that price we could have shared the dinkier versions of each option, which included arancini (risotto balls filled with cheese) and pork confit. However, I'd already settled on the full-size wild garlic and nettle bruschetta (£3), while Rolf fancied the black pudding (£3).
I've done a bit of light foraging in the past (the grassy area around Edinburgh Castle is great for ramsoms) so I was pretty impressed with my entrée's toast-topping blend, which featured finely chopped wild plants that had been blended with pine-nuts into a very garlic-buttery sort of pesto. This mixture was spread over two isosceles triangles of crunchy white bread, which were placed beside a small side salad of olive-oil drizzled ruby chard.
A few leaves of this springy shrub were also underneath Rolf's single disc of red-pepper chutney-topped black pudding, which he seemed to be demolishing very quickly. In fact, as a self-proclaimed professor in this meat treat, my dining partner rated this slice an eight out of ten. "It's rich and sweet," was his learned comment.
On to the main event and I was drawn towards the crispy lamb (£7), while Rolf ditched his plans for crispy vegetable pakora (£7) after the Orangealikey tipped him off about the special – an open roast beef sandwich (£8). "Ooh, I'll go for that instead," piped up Rolf.
At this point, the place was really starting to fill up, although, most of the customers seemed to be choosing dishes that they could pick at. For example, a nervous-looking couple next to us, who appeared to be on a first date, ordered olives (£2.50), which arrived in a vintage teacup.
So, we felt a little conspicuous with our substantial mains. Mine, for example, featured an Atlas-mountain-sized heap of vegetable-flecked couscous, which would have been rather insipid, but for the glutinous blob of cucumber-scented tzatziki (and yet another drizzle of the nettle mixture that I'd had for my previous course). Unfortunately, I wasn't the biggest fan of the blackened, fibrous carrion that was the main element of this dish, as I found it hard to chew (and even more difficult to digest). However, as Rolf is always a fan of anything that's been freshly cremated, he disagreed, and was happy to peck at my remains.
So it was only fair that I claimed a share of his main course, which was artfully presented on a square glass plate and featured a slice of crusty white loaf underneath a sheet of rose-pink beef, plus a portion of fat chips and a spoonful of horseradish-spiked mayonnaise. Now, this was more like the sort of pub grub that you'd crave while out on the ran-dan.
On to pudding and we'd decided to forgo the cheese plate (£5) so that we could, instead, try all of the desserts as "bites". Our miniature quartet soon arrived on one dish, along with two spoons so that we could share nicely. After a taste test, our unanimous favourite was the citrus sponge (£1), which featured an airy cake topped with a vanilla-flecked crème Anglaise. The apple and rhubarb crumble (£1) and the mojito posset (£1) weren't bad either, but the first tasted overwhelmingly of cloves, and the latter, although refreshingly minty and creamy, had an oddly granulated topping, like an unfired creme brûlée.
Unfortunately, it was the chocolate torte (£1) that was the real dud, as the ganache had a chalky texture and the pastry was soggy.
However, we mustn't grumble too much, as each mini portion had been at least three mouthfuls worth and the prices here are pretty competitive. As Rolf put it while we groped our way out of this dark space, the food isn't amazing, but should your champagne goggles be firmly attached, this could almost be Michelin starred gastro-pub fare. Better make that a jeroboam then. sm
The Bon Vivant55 Thistle Street
Edinburgh
(0131-225 3275)
THE Bill
Dinner for two, £25, excluding drinks
