Pierre pressure

RESTAURANT review

WHEN Pierre Levicky arrived in gastronomically moribund Edinburgh in 1988, he kick-started a culinary transformation that continues today. It seems as if every restaurant in the city is run or owned by one of the flamboyant Frenchman's friends, family or former employees. He may have been away from the capital for ten years, but his influence has been ever-present.

The circumstances in which a chef who arrived in Edinburgh with £100 in his pocket and then proceeded to build up a sizeable fortune and a 147-strong chain of his Pierre Victoire restaurants are as well known as his spectacular demise, which culminated in him being banned from being a director of a company for 13 years. He may smile now as he recounts how, ten years ago, he had several suppliers and business associates who wanted to break his kneecaps, but at the time it was no joke.

I have some friends who worked for his company in those years and their memories are of a shambolic 'organisation' where the quality of three-course £5.95 lunches was comically low, the aggravation from systematic double bookings constant and where staff left to their own devices used the cash tills as an alternative ATM, fatally undermining what should have been a thriving business. Some are still waiting for wages, yet all look back on those times with a measure of reluctant affection.

Most of us assumed the 2001 court case was the last we would hear of Levicky, so when earlier this year he opened Chez Pierre, there was a palpable frisson of interest. What would it be like? Would it be the first of many? Would Levicky be in charge of just the kitchen or would he also be the businessman behind the venture?

In a nutshell, the answers are that Chez Pierre is nothing like Pierre Victoire and that Levicky is back where he belongs, in the kitchen, leaving Donald Thow to man the calculator. As for his more expansionist tendencies, only time will tell if his fingers have been irrevocably burned, although this is the second Chez Pierre after setting up the first of the brand in Andalusia.

I haven't been to his Spanish restaurant, but the format here has a hefty nod to the influence of the tapas culture. Rather than the conventional format of starters and main courses, Chez Pierre's menu is essentially divided up between 'tiny playful' dishes, 'slurpies' (soups) and 'three phase' (main courses). There is also a section of kebabs and marinated finger foods called 'chunky healthy lines' which are of the hugely successful format popularised by the Outsider on George IV Bridge and The Office on the Lothian Road.

It may be a truly dreadful name, but the innovation is the 'tiny playful' dishes, which are midway between a starter and a main course in size and designed to be shared. The menu advises that two are enough for a light meal, but makes the mistake of describing them as tapas, which they most definitely are not; they are far more substantial than either 'tiny' or 'playful' would suggest.

In the event, we chose four: two from the fish options and two from the meat. All were excellent. Whether it was the seared marinated tuna with ginger, soya and sweet sherry, the baked oysters with scrambled eggs, the surprisingly spicy black pudding with caramelised apple and mash or the small fillets of beef with potato scone and caramelised onion, all were well-constructed, superbly presented and well-produced. The beef fillets, in particular, were incredibly succulent. The one problem with that smorgasbord of dishes was that they had been so substantial we were full to bursting by the time a huge main course, a seafood pot au feu that included lobster, prawns, clams, squid, mussels, seabass and monkfish, was plonked on our table.

Still, sometimes a bit of suffering does you good, so Vicky and I ploughed on through a dish that was competently constructed, even if it didn't rival our starters.

By the time we reached pudding, we were stuffed. Still, the tiramisu was so gloriously slushy and full of so much alcohol I had no problem finishing it off, while Vicky's chocolate roulade with red fruits, vanilla custard and vanilla ice-cream was also far too good to go begging.

Preconceptions are a terrible thing, but difficult to avoid when it comes to Levicky. What I was half-expecting was a low-quality, preternaturally Gallic dining experience in a vaguely rustic setting; what I got was high-quality traditional cuisine with a faint French influence but presented in an interesting and customer-friendly format. The setting wasn't faux bistro either, but more modern and with an emphasis on chrome and glass rather than darkened wood and cheap Toulouse Lautrec prints.

Even the waiting staff were efficient and courteous, and while the meal was very good value – you could easily eat here for £50 – there was no way it could ever be described as ruinously cheap. This was, in short, nothing like the good old, bad old days. And for that we can all be thankful.

Vital statistics

Chez Pierre 18 Eyre Place, Edinburgh (0131 556 0006)

Out of pocket

Tiny playful dishes and chunky healthy lines £4.90-£14.90; soups £4.80-£7.90; mains £12.90-£26.40; puddings £4.80-£7

Rating 8/10