The Courthouse Bar & Restaurant
High Street, Peebles
(01721 723537)
THE BILL
Dinner for three, £60.80, excluding drinks Perhaps in a parallel universe the pretty Scottish Borders town of Peebles is a criminal underwo
rld. I can just imagine gangs of pensioners, spurred on by Midsomer Murders, being held accountable for a missing minister, and the Saturday farmers' market dealing in the kind of meat that would prick demon barber Sweeney Todd's conscience.
In reality, however, it's a pretty benevolent place to be. Although, that wasn't the reason for the imposing Pebbles Sheriff Court being closed down. It was something even less thrilling than a lack of rabble-rousing and ram-raiding – boring old dry rot.
Situated at one end of the main street, the court was built in 1848 and shut down seven years ago. It reopened at the start of this year as a bar, restaurant and beauty parlour. When my folks and I visited, we couldn't help but notice that the new owners have heavily referenced the history of the building in their refurbishment.
The floor-to-ceiling gold silhouette of Lady Justice on the staircase wall was one clue. Also, as we marched, chain-gang style, into the restaurant we spotted an original metal sign, ominously proclaiming, "to courtroom and prosecution witness room".
The large dining room, which was almost full when we visited on a Friday evening, is in what used to be the main courtroom and, with its original vaulted ceiling, it's a smart space. We took a table where the dock would have been and perused a menu of five starters and seven mains.
Both ma and pa went for the entrée of fried whitebait and tartare sauce (£4.25) and I opted for the roast duck, roquette and orange salad (£5.25).
These courses were quick to land on our table and I was swift to steal one of the crispy, crunchy whitebait. So, sue me. They were deliciously moreish and salty, contrasting with a generous helping of a creamy, homemade tartare sauce in a side bowl.
My starter was also judged to be a success. A predictable pile of rocket (which had been fancied-up Hyacinth Bucket-style by calling it roquette on the menu) was enlivened thanks to a dressing laden with salty sesame oil and a few segments of juicy orange. Best of all, the six generous slices of cold duck were pink and unsullied by fat or overcooked chewiness.
For my main course, I wasn't in the mood for anything heavy, as I'd just had a queasy journey on the 62 bus from Edinburgh. So, that ruled out the slow roast pork belly and braised red cabbage (£11.25) or lamb shank, black pudding mash and rosemary gravy (£12.95).
Instead, pops and I went for the breast of corn-fed chicken, sage and pancetta butter (£10.95) – which turned out to be a pedestrian choice. Our pieces of chicken breast were moist and tender, with a scattering of tiny pancetta cubes adding a salty kick. However, even after forensic investigation, the sage in the butter wasn't detectable, and the singular chunky potato was uncooked in parts.
For her main, mum had steered clear of chicken most fowl and instead gone for rib-eye of medium-rare Aberdeen Angus, hand-cut chips and peppercorn sauce (£13.95). Dad reckoned she'd never get through the tower of giant chips which, he said, looked like "Stonehenge". However, his moll managed to polish them off and declared the frites and steak to be "really delicious".
We should have washed it all down with some illegal moonshine, like old dad brews up at home. However, as we didn't want to go blind, we instead chose a bottle of Explorer Pinot Noir 2005 Concha Y Toro (£16.50).
The wine, with its rich cherry flavours, went well with my choice of dessert – the chocolate marquis with caramelised banana (£4.25). This was a compacted chocolatey mousse, slightly less dense than a parfait. It came with a couple of sweetened banana slices and was topped off with a Baroque-looking piece of spun sugar, which dad mistook for a pair of spectacles. Overall, it was a palatable pud, despite the fact that the marquis would have benefited from a rather richer flavour.
While I scoffed my sweet, my mater and pater finished their respective choices of sticky toffee pudding, toffee sauce and vanilla ice-cream (£3.95) and plain old chocolate ice-cream (£3) – both of which they hoovered up quite happily.
Taking all the evidence into account, my verdict is that The Courthouse will turn out to be a popular addition to the newly burgeoning dining scene in Peebles. If I were asked to be devil's advocate then I'd grumble that the food needs a bit of refining and the staff are a little bit too attentive.
I mean, you don't really need to be asked if you want more bread three times, as we were, or need your cutlery pretentiously shuffled about before every course. Well, not in a low-key establishment like this, anyway.
Still, I'm sure I could overlook their minor crimes in order to return and sample the lamb shank, pork belly, or even the iced lemon meringue parfait with hot berry compote (£3.95) – all of which caught my eye.
Greedy, moi?
Guilty, your honour.
The full article contains 906 words and appears in The Scotsman newspaper.
