u m a m i

Shallots, chorizo & gorgonzola pasta-in-a-pan

I don't own any pasta cookbooks but if I do this would be a standby recipe because it is easy, fast and versatile not to mention very tasty. It doesn't contain much meat but would satisfy meat lovers, children would not know that they are eating a bunch of vegetables and  few adults would not succumb to the "sauce" which is essentially melted gorgonzola. If you stick to using hard vegetables (vs 'wet' ones like chinese cabbages or leafy greens that leach water upon cooking) you can make extra and it'll keep well for lunch the day after.

The base is made up of roasted vegetables and some tasty meat. Here I used a packet of chorizo sausagemeat which I bought from Bellota Bellota but I've had really good results with Italian sausages and fresh sausages from my market charcuterie.

I love roasting vegetables like leeks, onions, shallots, and going down the bitter and anise flavour profile, fennel, endives and even brussels sprouts. For a different effect, roast eggplants and zucchinis as I did when these vegetables were abundant in late summer. Equally happy to go into the mix are carrots, green beans and broccoli. On this occasion I used leeks and some leftover shallots, and broccolli which I could have roasted but didn't because I did not want to crowd the roasting pan. 

Try to time the pasta to finish cooking at the same time as the vegetables. All ingredients except the cheese should be hot at the moment of mixing otherwise the dish would cool too quickly. I reserved some pasta cooking liquid just in case the pasta sticked, but it was not really necessary.

Ingredients

Pasta

2 leeks, cleaned, sliced in diagonal chunks

2 shallots, quartered

1 cup chorizo sausagemeat

1/2 head broccolli, cut into florets

1 slab gorgonzola, cut into small chunks

1. Roast shallots and leeks at 190C (200C if not using convention oven) for 30 minutes then add chorizo and continue to cook until vegetables are soft.

2. In meantime, boil broccoli in oiled and salted water until tender. Set aside. Just before mixing reheat in a microwave or plunge into boiling water for 1 minute.

3. Cook pasta in oiled, salted, boiling water until done. Drain.

4. Take leeks out of the oven, quickly put pasta, broccoli and cheese into the pan and stir briefly. Serve.

 

Pearl by Jun Tanaka, London

Days before arriving in London, my sister C emailed me about wanting to try out lunch at Pearl by Jun Tanaka. Sure, I replied, thinking we were going to eat some Japanese food. Imagine my surprise when we reached the restaurant and did not see any blond wood or calligraphy screens. Instead there was a double-height dining space clad in beautiful marble, while splendid columns of more marble and pearl chandeliers added light and sparkle. White tablecloths and an army of greeters, waiters and sommeliers completed the impression of a serious continental restaurant.

The staff were professional and endlessly patient- every time V dropped her napkins, and we were talking at least five times, someone would come by with fresh linen; even when we objected and said it was not necessary.

Lunch was a really good deal at 20 pounds for two courses and 24 pounds for three. Amuse bouches arrived quickly. Beetroot gelee, celeriac purée and parmesan was simple yet elegant, eating well  on their own and with each other.

Husband's appetiser of mackerel fondant with horseradish cream came artfully presented. The ingredients may be inexpensive, but the mackerel fondant was rich tasting yet light. His main course of provencal vegetables was a more substantial rendition of more vegetables which was, truthfully, rather monotonous.

My main course was cornish plaice with artichoke gnocchi, caramelised chicken wings, girolles and baby artichokes. A substantial plateful but I wished they didn't remove the fish skin. The highlight was the three little nuggets of chicken wings- skin and luscious meat, all salty-savoury and sweet in one mouthful. Across the room a group of dark-suited executives was having a business lunch. I saw one of them, a bespectacled lady, popped a piece of the chicken wing in her mouth without realising what it was, also that the bones had not been removed. Probably without benefit of eating bone-in-chicken like I have since I was a child, she had a hard time eating this delicacy with dignity.

C's main course of braised pork cheeks with caramelised squid, white polenta and shallots was another generous serving. While excellent, we all agreed my dish was the best.

Dessert were complete crowd pleasers. Poached prune and almond crumble looked like a square version of mince pie, quite magnificient- the rich dark and slightly spicy fruit filling a perfect foil for the buttery almond crumble, the whole accompanied by an equally indulgent almond ice cream. There was also a chocolate dessert of dark chocolate brownie, pear granite and pear crisps; evidently it was good, for daughter and sister made short work of it. 

That was just lunch. I imagine that dinner would yield even more surprise and gratification. Just remember to save room for desserts.

Pearl by Jun Tanaka

225 High Holborn, London WC1V 7EN T: 020 78297000

   

My new micro-blog YummiUmami

Typepad introduced a new micro-blog feature yesterday. It is like twitter with more than 140 characters plus pictures plus RSS subscription. Readers can follow me, make comments, re-blog something that they liked and even indicate their favourites. Please go and have a look, I think I'll use it to post all the other stuff that don't make it to the main food blog, you know, exciting stuff like mini-reviews and oh, what I ate for lunch today.

http://umami.typepad.com/yummiumami/

Ginger-Assam Ducky Stew

I probably shocked my friend Florence once by telling her I hate to handle raw meat, especially chicken. It's not difficult to chop up a chicken but I would prefer not to do it because my cleaver cannot cut cleanly through the bone. Fortunately my regular vollailer, or poultry stall at the market, understand what I want. The owner and his son, as well as some of their more experienced workers, can strip a chicken from its bony skeleton, although this is a pretty unusual request because most French people nowadays don't know what to do with the carcass. They will obligingly cut up a whole chicken, or even chicken or duck thighs, into small pieces that is typically called for in Asian dishes. My mother would probably not approve but I really appreciate the convenience, it cuts down a lot of prep and washing-up time.

So, three juicy duck legs all cut up ready for the pot; what does one do with them? A stew, perfect for the cold weather. In any case, I always make some sort of a stew or braise once a week; it gives the impression that I am dedicated housewife and fills the apartment with tantalising smells.

I thought of the block of assam, or tamarind paste, languishing away on the bottom of my fridge; it would give a mellow sourness which is great for such a fatty meat. Rounded off with sweetness from dark sugar, kicap manis (sweet Indonesian soya sauce) and carrots. I used a cube of the dark ginger sugar that Andrew gave me last year- the mahjong tile-sized cube has fresh ginger preserved in between sticky black pressed sugar, the ginger added a welcome warmth. When my stash is used up I will probably substitute with fresh ginger and unprocessed soft brown sugar or even palm sugar.

The result was gratifying, neither an adobo nor an itek sio, but something in between, with lots of velvety soupy sauce that husband gleefully poured over his steamed rice. The child liked it too, the ginger spiciness not too overwhelming for her, in any case she was distracted by the tender duck meat and carrots cooked to an almost candylike state. 

3 duck legs, cut into small pieces, bone in. Peel off/remove as much fat and skin as possible.

2 carrots, peeled, cut into chunks

Flavouring

4 tbsp assam paste, made into slurry with 6 tbsp hot water, strained to discard seeds. 

2 tbsp kicap manis 

2 tbsp dark soya sauce

2 tsp Worcestershire sauce (optional)

1 cube ginger sugar (or 1 tbsp soft brown sugar and a thumb-sized piece of ginger smashed up)

Black pepper (optional)

1. Put duck pieces into a pot. Add cold water to cover the duck. Bring to boil and discard the water, along with the scum that would have risen to the top.

2. Return duck to pot. This time, with just enough water to cover 70% of the duck.

3. Add all the flavouring ingredients. Bring to a boil and reduce heat to a slow simmer. Let it cook, covered but allowing a little steam to escape, for 30 minutes.

4. Carrots go in and the stew cooks a further 45 minutes. Taste again and adjust seasoning. Remove surface oil if there is a lot of it. If is not sour enough, or is too sweet, finish with some lime juice or a few dashes of good vinegar.

Eating Glasgow

As I write this post, I constantly rub my palms together & huddle against my sweaters to generate heat. We are in the middle of October and a cold chill has settled in Paris. Therefore it is not such a bad thing to remember our visit to Glasgow way back in August.

Two months ago. It was mostly sunny during our weekend in the city. Glasgow is a vibrant city, packed with good eateries. We only had one dud meal, and that was at Chow, which was one of two on the TimeOut Chinese hitlist. The dishes came with thick gloopy sauce which is obviously a hit with their mostly Caucasian customers. After that dreadful meal we decided not to eat any Chinese food for the remainder of the stay, and it was a good decision.

The first place we went sightseeing to was House for an Art Lover. It features a house that was designed by Charles Rennie Macintosh and his partner Margaret Macdonald for a competition. The house was not built in his lifetime but much later, in 1996. Glasgow is Macintosh central, and here we saw some excellent examples in an idealised house set in gorgeous grounds comprising whimsical playground and a tiny but jewel-like garden.

The food at the in-house Art Lover's Cafe was excellent in terms of value and deliciousness. Salad of roasted scallop and chorizo was given a jolly good Scottish kick with perfect little black cubes of Stornaway black pudding. The black pudding is  a marvel, rich, deeply savoury and terribly delicious, its appearance on any menu items was often enough for us to decide to order that dish. 

Fortified with good lunch, we adjourned to see the Burrell Collection which is literally next door to the House of Art Lover. Definitely worth allocating a day to these two attractions.

We did not do much else beyond taking V to the playground- it adjoins a sweet little cafe that sells very tasty scones and cupcakes- twice a day. Our b&b, the Alamo Gust House, is a 3-star lodging situated next to the Kelvingrove Park. The room we stayed in was roomy enough with beautiful furnishings and a charming view of the back garden. The owners have a son nearly the same age as V, and a beautiful fat cat. The house feels lived in, with lots of books for V to borrow. However their breakfast was very mean compared to what we had in Edinburgh and Inverness- bulk discount items like cottony white bread and gluestick marmalade had us staying away from the dining room after the first morning. The comfortable room and location ideal for the park more than compensated though, and the eating possibilities in this neighbourhood is endless.

We were wandering among Great Western Road on a Saturday morning, where there are no shortages of vintage shops, secondhand bookstores and cute little cafes, when we decided to stop for lunch at Cail Bruich which had a delicious sounding menu posted up front. My instincts were right. This restaurant seems to have more space for food preparation than dining. A summery salad of salmon came with some prime slices of the gorgeous native fish, the smooth velvety finish of the fresh vying with smokey and dill-cured versions.

Husband was hungry, and ordered a steak pie. It was very good, the three of us made short work of this.

 

The guidebooks told us that we should visit The Barras, a weekend market in the east end. It was not the nicest fleamarket we're visited, but we were also hungry and decided to stop at a greasy cafe for some breakfast. The Cafe Lavita (not to be confused with a trendy Italian cafe by the name of La Vita) is unpretentious and has a comprehensive menu of all manner of grilled and fried foods; in addition to the usual bacon, sausage and ham, one could also have pakoras, which I did, and it was rather good too.

The pakoras warmed our stomachs while the breakfast items were being cooked. First up,my order, sausage and egg in a bap. Greasy and just the thing to go with a mug of hot milky tea. I couldn't have been happier. Husband and V shared the usual monster platter with eggs, beans, ham, sausages and bacon which they declared were really good too. Well it would have been, we haven't eaten such rich breakfasts since Edinburgh.

The Kelvingrove Art Gallery and Museum dominated the landscape of our neighbourhood. Their collections are magnificient and entry is free. On top of that, we were in time for a mid-afternoon performance of organ music.

What I would always remember this neighbourhood by, though, is the Mother India restaurant and its more modest sidekick Mother India's Cafe. Terrific Indian food. The restaurant is large but reservations are essential, and everything we ate was far better than whatever London could come up with. Everything tasted like it was cooked from scratch, homemade, honest. The spicing were finely tuned and nuanced, our V ate so much she graduated to finally eating chicken korma. To start, flaky haddock pakoras with ginger and hint of green chilli, these were grease-free, very light and so tasty it was finished in a flash.

Portions are generous. Everything we ate was very good, especially tender juicy lamb cooked with okra, aloo gobi of crunchy sweet vegetables in tomatoey sauce. Fish grilled with mustard seed was a little on the dry side.

Aloo gobi to put pretenders to shame.

 

Coke bottles commemorating Robert Burns, the most beloved poet of Scotland.

 

One of our last meals in Glasgow. At the Mother India's Cafe. Prices are much lower but portions are smaller, perfect for trying many dishes. Between that and the art museum across the road, well then what else is there to wish for? 

Art Lover's Cafe, House for an Art Lover, Bellahouston Park, 10 Dumbreck Road, Southside T: 0141 353 4779

Cail Bruich 755 Great Western Rd, West End T: 0141 334 6265

Mother India 28 Westminster Terrace, Sauchiehall St T: 0141 221 1663

Mother India's Cafe 1355 Argylle St, West End T: 0141 339 9145

Umami-lander

Blogging is once again interrupted. This time it's on theme or at least in Scotty land. I received the first 3 of the Outlander novels yesterday, so I want to spend the rest of the week reading them. Plus play Mafia Wars, tackle the mountain of laundry, collect the mail etc etc.

Next week: Glasgow, mothershop of Indian cuisine?

Eating the Highlands Part 2

 

When she heard I was going to Scotland, Sui Mai told me that I must eat "haggis with neeps and tatties". The version I had at The Dores Inn was so delicious that I decided to go back a few nights later. The restaurant is located about 20 minutes drive away from Inverness, and features a short menu of unfussy and well-cooked dishes. It also backs onto Loch Ness and the view from the back of the restaurant is phenomenal.

Back to the haggis, this was meaty and deeply savoury, like concentrated fond from roasting mammoth dinosaur bones. I liked also that it was relatively free of distractions like oatmeal fillers or peppery spicing, just pure melt-in-the-mouth-gasm with every bite. Neeps are mashed turnips- a bit watery and bland despite the bright orange hue, tatties are mashed potatoes which I preferred, the velvet gravy lapping over them comfortingly.

 

The view from the back of the restaurant. Isn't it marvelous?

One morning we decided to drive out to explore the Cairngorms, which is Britain's most extensive mountain massif. It is dotted with tiny and very charming little villages with the most adorable names like Aviemore, Kingussie and Laggan. We visited a clan museum, then moved on to find lunch at the Mountain Cafe. Situated in Aviemore, an amenities-centre for the rugged holidaymaker, the food served in the cafe is wholesome and politically correct. No haggis or anything that twee, but my sweetcorn and zucchini fritters (more like a dense skillet cake than fritter) was rather too filling. What blew me away though, were generously thick chunks of hot smoked salmon tucked between; so much better than cold-smoked, hot-smoking rendered the yummy Scottish salmon even more smoky and voluptuous-tasting. After lunch, one could go shopping in the sports equipment shop below but not me. I am not the sporting type, besides the goods are so expensive and rather ugly.

After such a hearty lunch, it was time to visit the Highland Wildlife Park. A bit like doing a safari, visitors drive and walk around to observe exotic foreign species like wildcats, bisons, yaks and even wild boars. It was a fun outing for V, she had enjoyed seeing rare sheep and chickens in a rare-breed farm in Fort William the day before (image above) and this thrilled her even more. I think the animals found me exotic, the Chinese woman with big sunglasses and parasol. 

Literally next door, there is the Highland Folk Museum, straddling the two villages of Kingussie and Newtonmore. A sprawling complex of farmhouses and ye-olde churches, train-stations, schoolhouses etc, visitors can explore traditional Highland ways of life, and of course, take a ride in pre-war type buses. It was totally charming.

Clan life, wild life, Hebridean life. There is definitely more to the Scottish Highlands than castle ruins, whiskies and the Loch Ness monster. Darling, take me there again?

The days flew by quickly, and soon we had to leave for Glasgow. Instead of going by the A9, husband took the slower, older A82. We thought we would make Glasgow for lunch, but we didn't account for the meandering two-lane highway full of trucks and leisurely drivers. Couldn't blame them, the view of the waters of Loch Lomond and surrounding forest parks are gorgeous. By noon, and still in central lowlands rather than further south, we had to improvise. Thumbing through the Rough Guide and the road map, I told husband to stop at the next village of Tyndrum, where the Real Food Cafe is said to "serve fast food that is locally sourced and cooked to order".

The cafe sits on the side of the highway. No other buildings save a few houses on the other side of the road. Not even a convenience store or a petrol station in this neck of the woods. Hmm, how many buildings make a village? The carpark was full of trucks containing frozen fish boxes with Eastern European words. Not too local eh? Still, we had no back-up plan, who knows what was in the next town, so we decided to take our chances here.

Inside, it was quite spartan but warm and quietly buzzing. Lots of recyclable cups and blond wood à la Ikea. Families, farmers, mountain trekkers. We sat ourselves in a sunny corner while husband queued up to place our lunch orders. He came back with hot tea and scones for me. The scones did not contain white flour, but were still quite tender and light, there was jam but no butter. I was slowly getting the impression that mountainside establishments hold possibility of good unpretentious food (unlike, say, their competitors in town fooling around with lemongrass infusions and masala veal chops). A middle-age lady and another volunteer shepherded a gaggle of elderly residents out for their lunch outing. All the old ladies ordered fish and chips. The manager came out to take care of them personally.

Eventually, like 25 minutes later, our lunch came. Old ladies table got served first. Husband had ordered burgers for me. The burgers, handmade from good local beef it may be, was too dry and skinny with a cardboard texture; I would have preferred something more recognisably meaty. Still, the cheese was tasty, the bun nicely toasted and the salads properly fresh and crisp.

I munched half-heartedly and then took a bite of husband's fish and chips. Hmm, what is this? Crispy batter with very fresh-tasting fish inside. I couldn't believe it. We had been eating fish and chips at various locations the whole week, including a famous pub in the fishing village of Ullapool which had won awards for its beer-battered version; all had been huge disappointments- too greasy, too bland, too boring. The fish and chips at Real Food Cafe was absolutely fabulous. We were all over the plate, it was the best fish and chips I've ever tried. 

I was not the only fan. The boards near the restroom were covered with appreciative letters and approving reviews. The trucks were a red herring (haha); the fish do come from far away, from the Barents Sea north of Norway and Russia. It is good fish, cooked upon order, in a light but still crisp-crunchy batter coating, as it should be.  So there we had it, a most excellent fish and chips served not by the seaside but a roadside cafe in the middle of nowhere in Scotland.

Dores Inn Dores, Loch Ness, Inverness T: 01463 751203

Mountain Cafe 111 Grampian Rd, Aviemore T: 01479 812473

Real Food Cafe Tyndrum on the A82/A85. T: 08457 484950

Eating the Highlands Part 1

The second part of our holiday happened in the Highlands, which accounts for most of the northern and western part of Scotland. It is a terribly romantic place. Relatively uninhabited, unindustrialised and quite remote (3 hours drive from Edinburgh), it is dominated by lochs and mountains. The waters in the region are very pure, they go towards making the national beverage that is Scotch whisky. The whisky from this area, in particular Speyside, have beautiful and long notes of floral, citrus and fruity aromas, mirroring the splendid countryside of its origins. 

Here I found the Scotland of my fervent imagination- brave warriors with flying ginger hair and distinctive plaids defend their beautiful lands against the bad, greedy-assed English invaders, in their castles their women are called lasses and their dogs westies, the land marked by exotic growths of heather, gorses and thistle flowers where grouse fly and dignified broad-antlered deers survey the magnificient lands. Aye, can you hear the wail of the bagpipes and the lilting harps? When you stand in the grounds of a long-ago deserted and much crumbled castle like Urquhart you most definitely can. They say it is more beautiful at night, when the tourists like us are gone and the former inhabitants return to their haunt. I don't know, I was plenty carried away myself that day. 

Back to the present, the café at the castle Urquhart was bang on trend with their cupcake selection. Here we had a cupcake with butterscotch frosting and toffee bits, particularly delicious eaten with force 10 winds howling in your hair and the coffee risking premature dilution with the perpetual Scottish rain overhead, all dead romantic really.

Speaking of another Scottish delicacy, we were much taken with Scottish marmalade, in particular that of our b&b. The Westbourne Guest House in Inverness is a 4-starred establishment because among other things, it provides tea-making facilities in the room, fan (no air-con), shirt-presser and shoe-shiner machine. We think. It can't be because the toiletries are supermarket brand,or because of the plain dormitory furnishings and a blown-up dishrack doing double-duty under the sink as bathroom shelves and basically lack of any natural stone, chintzy swags, swivelled mirrors or Grohe amenities. Their lounge has a common PC, every time someone opens the fridge in the adjoining kitchen the PC reboots itself, very Monty Python.

On the plus side, it was clean, the room was roomy enough for the three of us and they didn't complain when V left her bed all bloody one morning after having a nosebleed in her sleep. They did laundry too, i.e. I gave the landlady a bag of clothes and she ran it through her machines and returned them folded though not ironed, all for the rather reasonable price of 6 pounds.

Well, back to breakfast. Lots of choices in terms of cereals, yoghurts and fruits etc etc. Bacon, ham and haggis of ordinary quality which meant we stuck to toast for most of our stay. They use good grainy bread and the homemade marmalade was one of the most delicious we have ever tried. Terribly good stuff, packed with flavour and the texture was just right-thick yet spreadable, really much better than some award-winning marmalades we later brought home as souvenirs. The landlady also made sure we got two fingers of her home-made shortbread in our room every day. Two may sound a bit mean but these were outrageously rich biscuits, really buttery, flecked with tongue-tingling citrus peels (presumably from making the fabulous marmalade). Every evening when we returned from our excursions V and I take turns biting from the cookies and say to each other how good it was. Sometimes we couldn't finish them so we eat leftover chunks for breakfast.

Besides exploring castles, including Cawdow where the real Macbeth had ever stayed, there were other activities. Like visiting farms and picking strawberries. Rain had spoiled most of the crop, but V thoroughly enjoyed the experience. The better specimens were available for sale, and they were big, deeply red and tasted very sweet and vibrant like high summer. 

Just another view of the placid lakes. Until I read the little plaque at the side of the river which documented that this was a site of some bloody massacre in the great bloody past.

We took the old Jacobite steam train on the western side of the country. Run on coals and puffing white smoke as it chugs along the rugged mountain ranges, it thrilled all the train buffs in the carriages including a shy terrier lass sitting next to me. The seaside town where it ends, Mallaig, is small and touristy. I did well to have packed sandwiches from Tesco for our lunch on the pier.

The eating options in this area are not as great as in the larger towns. In Inverness itself there are a few cookie-cutter bistro types that didn't really appeal to me. A foray into the Indian restaurant scene was even more disastrous- the newly opened Jaipur actually offers a menu of different sauces poured on tandoori meats, it was the worst meal of our trip.

In terms of Chinese food, all we saw were takeaways, not exactly something I wanted to take back to our airless room (even if we got past the landlady). One evening we took a random turn into Academy St, off the city centre, and I spotted Gathering Place. It seemed like a mirage, there is nothing else of note along this drab street, but there it was, a sit-down restaurant that would not be out of place in Gerrard Street, London. The menu is predictable and their takeaway business was going on non-stop while we ate our dinner. The waiters are from Malaysia! The food was good and cooked with practised skill, we had a happy feed of fried rice, sambal kangkong and a prawn stir-fry. I reckoned this was the best Chinese option for miles around, heck I don't think there is any other Highland competitor, still, to do better, the waiter recommended going up to Aberdeen where they have the largest immigrant Chinese population in Scotland. 

In Part 2, we get acquainted with the truly Scottish food icons i.e. haggis, black puddings and the mythical Scottish salmon. 

Gathering Place 87 Academy St, Inverness T: 01463 713 244

Eating up Edinburgh Part 3

Back in the early 90's, on holidays with university mates in the Lake District, we visited what used to be the poet Wordsworth's house. My friend Pernell went into the gift shop before we actually went into the house, meanwhile back in the car (we were waiting for a parking lot) my two other friends sniggered at her seemingly uncultured ways. God bless them all, but I think P was on to something. On this holiday, we found the shopping at museum shops utterly delightful. There was something for everyone: books, clothes, mugs, whisky shot glasses, fruit cakes, Royal Family-themed chinaware, plushies and tartans of course. My favourite find was a woolly cushion with Union Jack pattern, something I had wanted for a long time; it is meant for dogs but Mimi and Rufus don't have to know that. 

The eating possibilities were none too shabby either. Out of curiousity, well, actually, the endless rain was a major push factor, we looked in on the Café at the Palace, of the Palace of Holyroodhouse. After a grey morning of exploring the ruins of its abbey, and breathing in the intrigue surrounding this former residence of Queen Mary of Scots, we were more than ready for a warm pot of tea and some cakes. The Cafe operates like a canteen, customers line up and load their trays, pay at the counter, collect cutleries and serviettes and sit down to eat in the glass-enclosed atrium or, in good weather, the al-fresco area overlooking the Salisbury Crags.

The home-made cakes looked so tempting, I forced myself to choose only three types. After all, this was lunchtime, so we started with soups and sandwiches, all very fresh and tasty, much better than what I had expected for a museum cafe. Raisin scone was lovely and very correct, cakey and crumbly without any metallic aftertaste, served with proper clotted cream and good fruity jam (plastic tubs bring the tone down though). Lemon drizzle cake was uplifting, it had lemon sponge, lemon curd, lemon cream and lemon glaze, sweetness and tartness in equal measures. The Victorian sponge cake sat proudly at the cashier's corner, but it was the weakest of the trio, let down by a somewhat dry sponge and indifferent fillings.

The day before setting off for Inverness, husband collected his rental car. We drove a few kilometres to Southside. While the laundry went through its cycles in the laundromat, we snacked on Polish sausages (Edinburgh is home to a big immigrant Polish population), stocked up on crisps, Marmite,Tabasco sauce and gossip magazines, and explored the many charity shops in the area. After that, a vegetarian buffet lunch at Kalpna, followed by a need for dessert, so off we went to the affluent neighbourhood of Morningside for ice cream and cakes. S.Luca is a local institution. Upstairs it was hot and stuffy, and crowded with white, anglo-saxon teenagers, stroller mums and their offsprings. Teenage servers run the place in an unhurried, indeterminate manner,quite unaware of their waiting customers

Strawberries and ice cream for V, and toffee pudding with vanilla ice cream for us. It was sensational, the pudding: velvety and oozing lava-like craters of molten dark toffee, sweet but never too sweet, the cold cold creamy ice-cream in contrast, oolala what a delicious treat.

We left Edinburgh on a Saturday, but not before stopping by at its weekly market on the Edinburgh Castle terraces. A small collection of stalls selling premium meats, handmade oatcakes, unpasteurised cheeses, cold-pressed soaps, artisanal jams and the like. Keywords: rare, unusual, natural, preservative/hormone-free, organic, biodynamic, local, seasonal, fancy. One stall featured a whole roasted pig.

I bought a sandwich complete with stuffing, crackling and added apple sauce and bbq sauce. Yummy. Equally good was a bison burger in the background. I stocked up a half-dozen bottles of blaeberry juice for our road-trip.

The Crisp Hut serves freshly made potato crisps. Doesn't get better than this.

 

Salt and vinegar flavour. We sprinkled our own vinegar, and was cautioned that the vinegar would dampen the crisps slightly over time. No danger of that actually because we gobbled it all up within a few minutes.

Café at the Palace Palace of Holyroodhouse, Old Town T: 0131 652 3685 

S. Luca 16 Morningside Road, Southside. T: 0131 446 0233

Eating up (fancy) Edinburgh Part 2

We didn't make any plans for sightseeing until we reached Edinburgh. Right outside Arrivals at the airport is a tourist information centre. Husband bought some guide books and we booked ourselves for a 2 day hop-on-hop-off coach tour that would allow us to make endless coach trips around the city and see The Royal Yatch Brittania, Edinburgh Castle and Holyrood Palace.

In contrast, I made reservations for restaurants before we left Paris. On the first night we ate at The Grain Store in Old Town, it is well known for using prime Scottish produce. It was very dim inside and very hot too, no airconditioning in the restaurant itself and an open window didn't help at all. Service was really slow and spotty. Still, they were very sweet to V, offering her free orange juice and not billing us for her tomato-sauce pasta.

I liked my starter of Scottish wood pigeon in puff pastry very much, the rich gamey bird offset by bits of raisins and chicory scattered about the plate. Main courses were a bit dull in comparison, husband's grilled wild trout was lovely enough but my main complaint was the heavy handed use of salt everywhere especially their puréed potatoes which was rendered inedible by the salt dump. That, coupled with the heat in the room made us want to flee as soon as we could, and we did, skipping desserts and coffee for some fresh air outside.

The next day we took the tourist coach to Leith. The Royal Yatch Brittania was fantastic, it is a MUST for anyone with any curiousity for big boats, the Royal Family and Royal Navy. The Queen's rooms were very modestly decorated for such a grand person, but she also has a Rolls Royce parked in the garage. There at at least three mess rooms for the different grades of officers and I was fascinated by their pantries and laundry rooms.

Leith itself is a modern residential and commercial area by the waterside. Most of the city's starred restaurants seem to be located here. We had reservations at one-starred Restaurant Martin Wishart for lunch so we made our way there by foot after visiting the Royal Yatch Brittania.

Inside it was blissfully cool, they have air-conditioning and the decor was ever so soothing coming in from our energetic walk, with its acres of wood, mirrors and white linen everywhere. Service was proper and attentive, and we soon settled in comfortably. It is a French restaurant, a bit strange coming from Paris ourselves, but I was told it is very good.

Our journey here was not entirely straightforward though. At first I couldn't get through their telephone line, so I gave up and instead made a reservation at 21212- this hot new restaurant gunning for 2 or even 3 stars- but they then called to say that children are not allowed in their listed building. They were gracious about this, and helped me to book a table at Martin Wishart which of course they also heartily endorse.

The tasting menu had all the nice things like foie gras, caviar, etc etc, but we thought we will try their lunch (for husband) and à la carte menus (for me) to test their diversity. A good sign came when amuse bouches were served. A trio of them, starting with cool gazpacho of something vegetal and refreshing, V liked that a lot. Then a little nugget of polenta cake topped with brown shrimps, yummy. The black muddy substance is made with haggis, the deep earthy flavours of the haggis somehow intensified but not overwhelming, the rice crispies lightening the total effect and playing up the contrast. A lot of words for a tiny mouthful of something really delicious.

From the à la carte menu I ordered pressé of vine tomatoes. Gorgeous presentation. The pressé was ambrosial, the absolute tomato flavours clear and pure. The green basil sorbet not too herby, in equilibrated balance with the tomatoes. The langoustines were, to me anyway, just gilding the lily. If I could get into the kitchen I would steal their entire batch of tomato water.

For my main course I ordered chicken. It is from Craigie farm, I don't know if that is famous or not but it was excellent chicken. So hard to get chicken right I think, this was very good, but the portion rather too generous for me.

Husband's main course was interesting. Haddock, without skin, sadly, but still beautifully cooked. Lovely on its own, even better paired with roast chicory and onion mash.

Husband's dessert. Custard poured directly into a well-risen souffle. Well made, without that eggy aftertaste that often spoil this experience for me. V and husband demolished this pretty quickly.

 

But V was even more interested in the first of my trio of desserts. A stunning jubilee of strawberries- meringue, sorbet, fresh, confited, soup with a tinge of lemongrass. I love English/Scottish strawberries, and this dish was a winner in terms of looks and taste. The other two desserts were good, I finished them all including the chocolate one, but this was the best. Husband conferred with the French sommelier who recommended Rasteau, a fortified wine from Rhone which was spot-on, the wine sweet and just sticky enough without being heavy.

The lunch at Martin Wishart's was decidedly a highlight for us.  I think it is fully deserving of more than a star. The cooking is highly polished with a bit of an edge, the space itself a cocoon of calm and old-school hospitality and oh I nearly forgot to mention, but I saw someone order the cheese course: it came in a handsome trolley bearing rather a lot of French cheeses.

The following night we went to another one-starred place in Leith. The Kitchin is a rather different animal altogether. There is a timbre deck/lounge outside while inside it is darker, with more wood and a decidedly casual feel, not a white tablecloth in sight. So monotonous is the decor I thought we were in a hotel cafe.

It was quite full the evening we went, which may account for the staff's offhand attitude. First, we were reminded that they wanted their table by a certain time, and that really irritated me. I coudn't remember agreeing to this when I made the reservation, even if I did, it was still jarring to be reminded in such a brisk fashion. Well then, no need to go to the trouble to order the degustation menu, not enough time.

The menu itself is relatively short. It sounds adventurous enough but the results were quite hit-and-miss.The signature starter of crispy pig's ear with langoustine had enough going on with all that textural contrast, sensations and flavours without the added warm curry spiciness which tipped it overboard. If they wanted heat, they would have fared better with a sharper spice profile. Husband's crab ravioli in a lobster soup is fancy enough, they felt the need to enliven the broth with lime and lemongrass which turned the whole thing into a sort of laksa, rather old hat and again, unnecessary.

My main course of a whole grilled lobster was relatively fuss-free, thankfully. It was served without any other garnish, which made for a boring experience after the first few bites. Husband had a duck dish, also just OK.

We decided on dessert because I was not fully satisfied that I was being fair to this place, maybe there is yet some substance to this hype that we've missed out on. Husband's lemon tart with honey ice cream and preserved cherries sounded good on paper and it would have been brilliant if the individual items actually shone, after all, with such simple components you really have to excel at it. Sadly, not. My dessert of berries stacked in a tower also incited a sigh in me: I loathe stacked tower presentation, so passé. Digging in, I discovered in the middle layer a sort of cheesy mousse which was quite good, it really lifted the whole dish. Its delicate creamy and cheesy finish was lovely on its own and more than a match to the florid tart berries. A grown-up cheesecake, far more sophisticated than its name suggested. If only they demonstrated more of this type of cooking in their other dishes.

We didn't like The Kitchin much, obviously. It felt like a restaurant with too much attitude. There is youthful exuberance, and brash arrogance, the Kitchin is definitely in the latter category. It may have its fans, but count us out, please.

The Grain Store 30 Victoria Street, Old Town T: 0131 225 7635

Restaurant Martin Wishart 54 The Shore, Leith T: 0131 553 3557

The Kitchin 78 Commercial Quay, Leith T: 0131 555 1755

In Part 3, we'll get to the promised palace cafes and castle fries. Promise!