The Seafood Restaurant
The Scores,
St Andrews
(01334 479475)
The Bill Lunch for three,
£78, excluding drinks
IT MUST BE A NIGHTMARE, naming anything these days. Books, bands, online shopping emporia – if you ca
n't think of a moniker that's short and tricksy, or long and obscure, you might as well pack your bags and leave town. Which is what the Ladies Who Lunch (call us the LWLs) did recently, bound for a place with a no-nonsense title.
Tim Butler and Craig Millar serve "fish, pure and simple" at their twin Seafood Restaurants at St Monans (their first) and St Andrews in the East Neuk. Both establishments have won a raft of awards, but the St Monans one walked off with the latest – the Speciality section at this year's Scottish Restaurant Awards. We thought we'd check out its St Andrews sibling to see if it was feeling the heat.
Spring had sprung, which meant a fickle mix of biting wind, dazzling sunshine, snow flurries and dagger-sharp hail – and the biggest churning seas St Andrews had seen all winter. As we made our way along the clifftop, looking down at the lone seal practising lifeboat drill in the Aquarium's outdoor pool, you couldn't help thinking it would be a miracle to find any seafood at all on the menu at The Seafood Restaurant next door. Fishing fleets deserve respect for bringing home the halibut in conditions like this.
Our table was nicely positioned on the overhang of The SR's glass-sided pavilion, which juts out over the bay. This was good in two respects: it gave us ringside seats for the wave show, while turning our backs on a huge car park to our left. I hadn't expected the car park and was about to venture my disappointment ("This place must really come into its own after dark," etc) when my eye was caught by a huge wave and I forgot all about it.
The SR's open kitchen policy proved another winning distraction. Millar, as executive chef, has assembled the calmest team on the planet – I've never seen sauces stirred with such aplomb.
The lunchtime set menu offers two courses for £22 and three for £26; at the posher end of the range. So we awarded our waitress several stars for not blinking when we asked for tap water. We deducted one when she stretched across the crisply starched tablecloth to offer me the bread basket, then promptly reinstated it when we tasted the bread: homemade and softly delicious. We added another for the little thistle design on the butter.
From five starters, my two fellow diners went for the pan-seared scallops with sweet potato purée and curry oil – passing up the chance to try honey and soy braised pork belly with lobster and truffle vinaigrette; game terrine with cumin and apricot chutney; dill-cured gravadlax; or – my choice – roasted onion and garlic velouté with truffle oil.
I thought the scallops looked small and rather squished, but I was just back from New Zealand, home to the plumpest molluscs on the planet, so I was possibly no judge. LWL1 said they looked perfectly normal – and, more importantly, were soft and succulent. The sweet potato purée also got the thumbs up; the curry oil, just a drizzle, was so subtle it was hard to detect.
My velouté (soup, to you and me) was lovely: steaming, silky smooth, with a hint of caramelised sweetness, and garlicky without being overpowering – and a very substantial bowlful.
There were five choices for main, of which just one – pan-fried calves liver with red onion marmalade and thyme jus – wasn't fish. Anyone who was a fan neither of the sea nor of offal might have been in trouble here, but we were in our element.
LWL2 chose grilled fillet of halibut with crushed Ratte potatoes, soy scented vegetables and bacon dressing. This was delicately presented on a bed of mildly oriental spring greens, the potatoes – mashed in their skins – in a miniature tower to one side. The fish was "cooked to perfection" and the crispy bacon dressing inspired.
LWL1 picked the pan-seared collops of monkfish with mussels, Parma ham, Parmesan linguini and saffron velouté. I nearly chose this too – I like the word "collops" – but she went for it because she's partial to mussels. She declared the fish spot-on, loved the mix of flavours and, while the mussels looked tiny to me (see the scallops, above), she declared them a highlight.
I wasn't entirely convinced by my red snapper with chorizo, pistachio and sun-blushed tomato risotto and garlic butter. The risotto was beautifully sloppy but the chorizo and pistachio were really in-your-face. Then again, if any fish can take such competition, a robust red snapper can.
After a suitable pause, it was on to a blissful caramelised pear tarte tatin with cinnamon and walnut ice-cream. My friends picked the rhubarb parfait with apple jelly and honey ice-cream ("a very pleasing, delicate mix") and the chocolate brownie with white chocolate sorbet ("beautifully light – just about as far from a Pret a Manger brownie as you could get").
By the time we left, the sea was crashing in dramatic style against the rocks but, inside, there was still no crashing about in the kitchen. Like its St Monans sister, this place oozes a quiet, unflurried confidence. "Fish, pure and simple"? Like their name, that's underselling themselves, surely. Roll on the accolades anyway.
The full article contains 923 words and appears in The Scotsman newspaper.
