The Shore
3 The Shore, Leith, Edinburgh (0131-553 5080)
The Bill Dinner for two, £48.50, excluding drinks
WHERE'S THE REST of it?" I asked, seeing the furrowed brow across the table. "That seems to be it," came the wh
ispered reply. It was pancetta we were looking for, the titular "crispy pancetta" of a dish that promised to couple it with quail's eggs and radish salad with wholegrain mustard dressing (£5.50), just one of the starters on The Shore's (newish) à la carte menu. The idea was neat, a kind of gourmand's bacon and eggs, but in a sign of things to come, the dish fell short. Not only was the pancetta stingy, perched on top of a pile of bitter leaves, the radishes were cut into hunks that knocked the dish's texture all to pot. Oh well, after a couple of mouthfuls it was gone.
I fared better, it has to be said. My eye had been drawn to the duck rillettes with gherkin relish and toasted home-made soda bread but I opted instead for sea bass (£6). Perfectly pan fried, the succulent and delicate fillet was served on wilted spinach with ribbons of sweet carrot in an avocado dressing. It was delicious. But one out of two isn't the strike rate we expected.
It had all begun so well. Calling a restaurant to book a table for two on a Thursday evening only to be told there's no room until 9pm is a good sign, surely. Perhaps I let my excitement run away with me – my expectations soaring like a soufflé in a hot oven. But why not? I've enjoyed fine evenings in The Shore for longer than I care to remember. As close to a gastropub as Edinburgh could muster, a fine combination of scruffy bar and tidy food, it offered my favourite way to eat. A pint, a bowl of steaming hot fish soup or some other delight from the blackboard in the corner, followed by a tasty plate of cheese, had always done the trick, negotiating with ease that fine balance between pub atmosphere and food delicious enough to grace many restaurant tables. But times have changed.
The Edinburgh institution is now under new management, having been taken over by the team behind Fishers Bistro and Fishers in the City early in the year. This, though, only added to my happy anticipation. Alas, my early optimism was followed by disappointment as we endured a meal that was – sea bass excepted – lacking in both inspiration and finesse.
For my main, I dithered over the fish of the day (halibut) but with a glass of rioja in my hand (from a bottle of 2001 Vega del Rayo, Rioja Reserva, £18.95) instead chose rump of spring lamb with roast butternut squash and green olive and plum tomato dressing (£14). Lamb can be fatty, I know, but it's a favourite of mine and with the right kind of cooking can be fantastically tender. This rump was not. It was fatty, plain and simple. Against the softness of the squash and the sharp, almost bitter flavour of the olives, it made for a rather unhappy combination.
Across the table, things were certainly better than with the first course, but still not as they should be. Red wine braised shin of beef with truffle mash and Paris brown mushroom ragout (£13.50) is a dish, certainly, to put hairs on the chest – full of rich, almost sweet, flavours and dense, soft textures. But if the starter was stingy, this was overwhelming.
A giant hunk of meat sat atop a huge blob of potatoes. It looked anything but appetising when it arrived and although I was assured it "tastes much better than it looks", the maxim of less is more would definitely have done this dish a favour. Only about half disappeared and, without wanting to insult my dining partner, it didn't look as if it was a wholly enjoyable experience.
Beaten by our main courses, we decided we needed a breather before we could contemplate dessert. As the friendly waiters bustled around, clearing tables and chatting to diners – most of whom seemed to be tourists – I felt perplexed about how things had changed. The door now permanently open between restaurant and bar, the soft-rock soundtrack slightly too loud for the quaint dining room, instead of this being a restaurant complimented by a bar, a bar with the added gem of a small, intimate restaurant, it is neither. With the same menu being served and the same atmosphere in both sections, I'm not sure I understand why the two are separate anymore.
Eating is a pleasure and dining in a restaurant such as this should be. It's not that care hadn't been taken in the kitchen, it clearly had, but on the night of our visit it simply didn't work. With each dish, something had been wrong, the flavours not quite in harmony, the balance of each dish just a little bit off. And without a doubt, the presentation needs to be improved. The pub tables might only be a matter of feet away but what works sitting at one of those – no one expects or wants fish and chips to be subtle – is not the same as what works in a restaurant.
In a bid to salvage the meal, I thought some home-made ice-cream would leave a smile on my face. But I'm afraid it was not to be. Of three flavours (chocolate and raisin, praline and blackcurrant) I only like one, so blackcurrant it was (£4.75). It was creamy enough but three scoops would have fed, well, three so I ate one and left it at that. Across the table a vanilla panna cotta (£4.75) served in a strawberry soup got a lukewarm reception. The soup was tasty but the wobble of vanilla at the centre was bland.
Sadly, not even the desserts could sweeten what had been a bitter disappointment.
The full article contains 1011 words and appears in The Scotsman newspaper.
