Edinburgh

Dine

29/07/17

Traverse Theatre, Cambridge Street, Edinburgh

We’re meeting up with some old friends and we’ve been meaning to try Dine for a while now, so it seems like the ideal time to give the place a whirl. Since we’re eating fairly early, we have the opportunity to select from the market menu, which comes in at a very reasonable £19.50 for three courses. Michelin-starred chef Stuart Muir claims to have created a series of contemporary twists on classic dishes and our expectations are high.

The room above the Traverse theatre is a delightful setting for a meal: it’s spacious and circular with dark wooden flooring, giving a surprisingly intimate feel; the tables are arranged around a central and remarkably realistic apple tree. The staff are friendly and chatty – attentive without being obtrusive. Drinks are duly ordered and the starters arrive promptly.

I opt for the cured sea trout, which, though not the most photogenic thing on the menu, is really quite delicious, served with pickled green apple, burnt cucumber, yoghurt and dill. Susan has the heritage tomatoes, which are bursting with flavour, nestling on goats cheese, black olive crumb, filo and basil. Our companions go for the smoked Ayrshire ham hock terrine with carrot chutney, pickled heritage carrots, watercress and sourdough. It looks splendid but I’m not offered a taste, no matter how many hints I drop!

The main courses are equally assured. Susan’s Perthshire chicken is agreeably moist and succulent, served with sweetcorn puree, burnt sweetcorn, baby gem and pickled trompettes. I sample the (very alliterative) braised brisket of borders beef (try saying that with a mouthful of garden peas!), served with truffle polenta cake, burnt onion puree and tender steam broccoli. Brisket is notoriously hard to get right, but this is as tender as you’d want, and coated with a sticky, piquant sauce. A slice of this meat nestled on a chunk of polenta cake makes for a very pleasing contrast. Excellent.

Puddings? Well, Susan orders the Blacketyside farm strawberries – these come with mascarpone, meringue, 12-year-old balsamic, basil and a scoop of strawberry sorbet. It’s a pretty spectacular concoction, hitting all the sweet notes in perfect harmony. I go for the selection of British cheese, with crackers and a rich, fruity chutney. Since cutting down on dairy products in my everyday diet, this is a chance to be a bit decadent and the three cheeses I’m served are generously proportioned and lip-smackingly good. (Had I been a bit more organised I’d have made a note of their names, but I was too busy devouring them to take time out to do that, so suffice to say that Dine does excellent cheese.)

This was fine dining prepared to a very high standard, offered at a very reasonable price in a charming location. Any way you look at it, it ticks all the boxes. With the madness of the fringe only days away, make sure you book early to avoid disappointment.

4.6 stars

Philip Caveney

Whist

22/07/17

Festival Theatre, Edinburgh

It’s a rainy morning in Edinburgh, the perfect time to seek escape from reality. Upstairs in the bar at the Festival theatre may seem an unlikely location for such an escape, but it’s soon to be transformed into a landscape of the imagination, courtesy of dance company AOE and some nifty virtual reality headsets. Helpers are on hand to show us initially around what looks like a random selection of rather unprepossessing objects; we are told that, when these shapes are looked at through our headsets, they will unlock a series of sequences inspired by the work of psychoanalyst Sigmund Freud.

So, we allow ourselves to be fitted out with said headsets and we regard the first object we come to and… wow, this actually works! All of a sudden, I am standing mid-air in the centre of a dilapidated room, a room I can see in perfect detail, whichever way I choose to look. I can’t help but notice a rather ominous wooden chest in the corner and, as I watch (rather nervously, it has to be said), a woman emerges from the box and starts to chalk obscure symbols all over the wooden floor…

It’s hard to fully describe the impact of these ‘visions’. There’s a kind of voyeuristic pleasure in observing the various characters that wander in and out of the (seemingly unconnected) sequences and, often, a startling moment when they look directly at me and I become convinced that they know I am here, that they can see me watching them. The scenes range from the creepy to the baffling to the vaguely erotic. In my favourite sequence, I’m standing on a dinner table, my feet resting on a plate of bloody hearts. Around me, three diners are tucking in to the raw meat, drinking wine and shooting me challenging looks. I feel obliged to keep spinning around to make sure I take in all of their reactions. One of them looks a bit handy with a steak knife and I get the distinct impression they don’t much like me standing in the middle of their dinner…

There’s no through-storyline here. Each individual scenario is something that could have evolved from a dream or, more accurately, a nightmare. Birth seems to be a recurring theme and also, the subjugation of women. There’s a moment when I really want to step in to help somebody who is being manhandled, but I can’t, because I’m not actually there even though it feels like I am – and then there’s a moment when I suddenly find myself drifting alone through the cosmos and I nearly cry out with the wonder of it. I look down and it feels like I could fall forever…

The experience lasts an hour (which is probably just about the right duration) and I have to say, it’s pretty intense. For a while after it’s over, I have the conviction that the real word I’ve returned to is pretty damned strange (particularly when I spot Jarvis Cocker standing on the other side of the road) but that feeling soon passes. After all this is Edinburgh and the festival is fast approaching. Why shouldn’t Jarvis Cocker be around? Whist feels decidedly like it should be part of the festival, but it’s here right now and it’s one of the strangest, most immersive experiences I’ve ever had.

I urge everyone who can to pop along to the Festival Theatre and give it a try. It’s there until early August. There’s a limit of twenty participants per show, so get those tickets booked and dive right in. You’ll be intrigued, delighted, maybe even a little bit freaked… but I’m pretty sure you won’t be bored, not for a moment.

5 stars

Philip Caveney

Seasons

Broughton Street, Edinburgh

09/07/17

We’re here because it sounds exciting: we’ve seen Seasons advertised on Facebook and we’re intrigued by what we’ve read. Because there’s no menu here, as such, just a list of locally sourced ingredients, and the choice of a five or seven-course tasting menu. “We ask for you to put your trust in our ethos and our team,” says their  website – and so we do.

We’re eating with friends and, after some discussion, we all agree to go with the seven-course option (we’re afraid of missing something spectacular if we opt for the shorter menu). We eschew the wine pairings: at £45 a head, this seems a bit much for seven (or maybe six, if tripadvisor reviews are accurate) 75ml glasses, however wonderful they are. We share a bottle of sauvignon blanc instead, although several of our refills taste suspiciously like Chardonnay; have they confused our wine with another table’s? Looking back, we realise we have probably drunk a lot more than a bottle between us, so the mix-up is in our favour – and we’re too busy enjoying ourselves to bring it up. Because the food is really rather good.

We start with an amuse bouche, quirkily presented in a ceramic egg. It’s an Arbroath smokie with dill foam, and it packs a lovely punch. It’s a good start, and sets us up nicely for the first ‘proper’ course, which is a spinach and watercress velouté,with a burnt onion oil and crumb. This is absolutely delicious: smooth and velvety and richly flavoured.

The second course consists of langoustines, served with heritage tomatoes and a tomato bisque. The langoustine tails are soft (maybe too soft?) but they taste wonderful, and the tomato bisque is inspired. So far, so good. Next up, it’s braised ox cheeks, with kohlrabi and herbs. This is perhaps the least enjoyable course of the evening: it’s all very well cooked – the tiny sweet mushrooms are a particular delight – but we all agree it lacks seasoning, and it’s a bit big and oafish in the wake of all the finery we’ve tried so far. The fourth course, plaice with samphire and a plaice tortellino, is also under-seasoned. We ask for salt, which is clearly not de rigeur, as we discover when we are given a bowl of unground rock salt and a teaspoon. This feels a bit grudging (obviously we can’t use it), but we find it funny rather than annoying, and just eat the course without. Apart from the lack of sodium, it’s delicious, especially the fish-filled pasta.

By now, we’re starting to think that five courses would have been enough: we’re getting very full. But the fifth course, lamb with peas and feta, is worth finding space for: it’s perfect. The lamb is pink and tender, and the peas enriched by the sharp salty cheese.  Yum. Nevertheless, we’re relieved to see that the sixth course is a light one, a pre-dessert of strawberries, strawberry ice-cream and honeycomb. It’s light and sweet and very fresh. We all relish it.

Pudding is cherries with woodruff sponge, chocolate crumb and a cherry sorbet. It’s a fascinating combination of flavours and textures and, while it doesn’t quite elicit the lip-smacking groans of pleasure that sweet stuff often can, it certainly holds our interest, and we all clear our plates. It’s a clever dessert, and it gives us pause for thought.

Seasons is a lovely place to spend an evening with friends. It’s relaxed and convivial, with plenty of space between courses to digest what’s gone before and catch up with each other’s news. We arrive at seven and don’t leave until after ten-thirty, and we enjoy ourselves immensely. It’s a quirky, original restaurant with real daring and ambition. Well worth a visit. Give it a try!

4.4 stars

Susan Singfield

 

Death of a Salesman

20/06/17

King’s Theatre, Edinburgh

There’s no doubting the power and tragic beauty of this Arthur Miller play: I remember its strength from sixth-form English lessons; even reading around the classroom, it seemed to come alive. On stage and film, I have always found it utterly compelling, a desperately sad – and sadly desperate – illumination of our times.

Okay, so the specifics are late-forties New York, but Willy Loman is an everyman, and his predicament still common to those of us who live in capitalist societies around the world.  We are sold a dream: we are in charge of our own destinies. Work hard, and you will get somewhere. Compete, and you can be the best. Buy these products; owning them will show others what you’re worth. But for Willy, the dream he’s bought in to is crumbling: he isn’t great; he’s ordinary. And he’s lost his edge. He’s a salesman who no longer sells, and corporate America spits him out. Willy is outraged to discover he’s been had, and rails against the boss that now deems him obsolete: “You can’t eat the orange, and throw the peel away – a man is not a piece of fruit.” But his rage is impotent: the odds are stacked against him. Howard does indeed discard him, and Willy is left bereft, forced to confront the reality that his life has been a sham. His house is small and crumbling; his children haven’t changed the world. He can’t even grow beets in his yard, for pity’s sake. And now, when he’s old and tired, he’s left frantic and worried: how can he make ends meet?

This touring production (by Royal & Derngate, Northampton, in association with Cambridge Arts Theatre) has a thoroughly modern feel. It’s not that the period has changed, exactly, it’s just been made less prominent. The minimalist stage, with its fizzing neon illumination – THE LAND OF THE FREE – gives an eerie sense of transience and flimsiness. Costumes are subtly contemporary in style; Howard’s voice-recorder is tiny and looks like today’s technology, but there’s no suggestion it has more than one function. Howard’s reaction to this piece of kit is illustrative too: Thom Tuck (last seen by Bouquets & Brickbats as the excellent Scaramouche Jones) is delightfully brash and insensitive, showing off about how much money he’s spent on this vanity item, even as he refuses to grant Willy a living wage. “Ask your sons,” he tells Willy, blissfully unaware of his own hypocrisy. “Now’s no time for pride.”

Nicholas Woodeson is perfect for the lead role, conveying Willy’s struggle with warmth and vitality. We are frustrated by his refusal to accept a job offer from Charley (Geff Francis), but we understand it too: Howard is wrong; Willy’s pride is all he has left. The anger that spills out of him in response to Linda’s concern is utterly convincing too: he doesn’t want her to worry about him, to prop him up because he’s down. He wants her to be impressed by him, and he’s self-aware enough to know she pities him these days. Tricia Kelly plays Linda with real heart; her anguish, although quieter, is every bit as real as her husband’s, and her epilogue speech is delivered with unbearable dignity. It makes me weep.

I think it’s the direction that makes this production so good: Abigail Graham has done a wonderful job of clarifying everybody’s pain. We know what they’re all feeling, and can’t help but empathise, even when they’re behaving as badly as they can. Indeed, George Taylor’s dysfunctional Biff is the most fully realised I have ever seen. Infidelities, theft, cruelty: none of these are hidden from our view. Because flawed people are people too, and we’re all deserving of respect.

This is a superb production of a truly great play. It’s on at the King’s until 24th June, and the tour continues elsewhere until 15th July. I urge you to try to catch it if you can.

4.8 stars

Susan Singfield

 

 

Cucina at G & V Hotel

17/06/17

Royal Mile, Edinburgh

It was my birthday yesterday, but events conspired to prevent us from celebrating together then (Philip was working in Yorkshire while I was at home in Edinburgh). No matter: the date is only a number, and an excuse for a treat. We’re happy to postpone our pleasure for a day.

We’re lured to Cucina with another bookatable deal (seriously, they’re hard to resist), and are soon happily perusing the Star Menu, drinking our complementary Prosecco  (this is becoming a habit; if we’re not careful, we’ll start expecting a free glass of fizz wherever we go). The decor is quirky: all bright colours and modern surfaces, not as in-your-face ‘designer’ as it used to be in its Hotel Missoni days, but definitely drawing on its previous incarnation’s style. And we’re looking forward to some stylish Italian nosh.

We’re not disappointed. The bread arrives promptly, and there’s a choice (we always appreciate a choice). I opt for a pumpkin seed, while Philip takes the sun-dried tomato. Both are lovely: fresh and chewy and distinctly naughty. We accept the offer of a second slice.

For starters, I choose steamed mussels; these are served in a light tomato sauce with garlic and chilli. They’re exactly as they should be: plump and tender and as moreish as can be. Philip’s homemade conchiglie with pork ragu is also very good indeed, the pasta served al dente with just the right amount of bite, and a deliciously herby pork sauce.

Our mains are good too, although maybe not quite as impressive as the starters. Philip’s BBQ chicken comes with roast potato and spinach, and he’s really impressed with the sauce, which is sweet and densely flavoured without being all thick and sticky and overpowering the dish. My cod with Savoy cabbage, chorizo, potatoes and lemon sauce is – in the main – beautifully cooked, although I don’t eat the skin, which is soft and flabby, and not crispy as I’d like. Still, that’s hardly a meal-ruining issue, and the rest of it is mouthwateringly good.

Would we like a pudding? Of course we would. At first, I’m disappointed with my tiramisu: it’s a light, delicate frothy thing, served in a cocktail glass, all sweetness and air. I’ve been looking forward to a thick slab of marscapone and soggy sponge, and this just doesn’t tick the boxes in my head. But it tastes divine and, actually, once I’ve eaten a few mouthfuls and got down to the sponge, I’m kind of glad it’s what it is. It’s less ‘gromphy’ for sure, but it’s a better ending to the meal we’ve had. Philip has no such qualms about his pud: it’s ice-cream. Readers of this blog might not be aware that, in some circles, Philip is renowned for being the world’s second best ice-cream eater, and he’s keen to try the liquorice, cocoa and pistachio flavours on offer here. He declares them bowl-lickingly good, although he does manage to refrain from actually demonstrating this.

Our bookatable deal even includes coffee and petit fours. Okay, so the tiny pieces of biscotti we receive are somewhat underwhelming, but we’re more than pleased with what we’ve had. Even with the (extra) bottle of Prosecco we’ve consumed, this all comes in at a very reasonable £88. Not bad at all.

4.4 stars

Susan Singfield

Chez Mal Brasserie at Malmaison

28/05/17

Leith, Edinburgh

We’re here because some of bookatable.co.uk’s deals are just too good to ignore, and this one – three courses and a glass of Prosecco at the Chez Mal Brasserie for a mere £19.95 – seems like particularly good value for money. It’s in Leith too, which is an added draw: it’s a rare part of our adopted hometown that we’ve yet to explore. So we plot a route on google maps, lace up our walking boots, and set off through the city and along the Waters of Leith. Eight kilometres and ninety minutes later, we arrive at Malmaison, feeling more than ready for this little treat.

Its location is wonderful: a cobbled street on the waterfront. The building dates back to 1883, and its maritime history is echoed in the quirky artwork that decorates the bare stone walls. Service is friendly, and our Proseccos arrive quickly. The Spring fixed-price menu offers four options per course, all of which sound interesting (and, even without the bookatable deal, it’s still only £24.95). We order promptly – being hungry makes us decisive – and select a bottle of French languedoc to accompany our meals. The wine is soon delivered, and is sliding down very nicely… but something seems to have gone awry. Where is our food?

Just as we’re getting to the neck-craning stage (did the people at the next table come in after us? They seem to be on their second courses already), a waiter appears with some complementary bread and apologises for the delay, citing a mix-up in the kitchen. We’re glad of the bread, which is absolutely delicious, and served with both a rich salty butter and an olive oil/balsamic combo. But we do devour it a little too enthusiastically (did I mention that we’re hungry?), perhaps spoiling our appetites for what’s to come.

The starters appear soon afterwards, and they’re good. Philip’s grilled masala spiced mackerel with sweet potato and lime pickle and a cumin raita is especially tasty: the robust fish perfectly enhanced by the sharply pickled veg. My spring lamb Benedict is also nicely done, but there’s a reason it’s usually made with ham, and that’s the saltiness. The lamb and egg together, especially atop the brioche toast, are perhaps a little too rich, with nothing to cut through it all.

Philip’s main is a chicken Milanese, which is a breaded chicken breast with a Burford brown fried egg, truffle mayonnaise and rainbow chard. It’s indisputably well-cooked, and there’s not much here to criticise, but neither is there much to laud. It’s, well, okay. Quite nice. Y’know. My pan-fried river trout is a bit better: the fish is beautifully cooked with a crispy skin, and the pea and broad bean purée accompanying it is lovely. But it still feels like it could do with… I don’t know what, just to elevate it into something better, something more.

The puddings are delicious though; hats off to the pastry chef. We share two. The first is a warm Valrhona caramel chocolate brownie, a rich, sumptuous temptation, which is served with the most more-ish ice cream I’ve ever tasted, a brown butter pecan concoction. Yum. Second is a rhubarb trifle, the creamy vanilla custard and rhubarb jelly offset perfectly by sharp, almost sour pieces of the eponymous fruit, and a spicy ginger crumble. These make for a very satisfactory end to our evening, and we wander off into the Leith evening, ready to walk off our excess.

3.8 stars

Susan Singfield

Restaurant Mark Greenaway

31/03/17

North Castle Street, Edinburgh

The last time we visited Restaurant Mark Greenaway – September 2015, as it happens… thanks for asking! – we berated it for having a ‘slightly austere feel’ and ‘glum-looking punters.’ Maybe we were just in a tetchy mood that day. At any rate, it’s time for a reappraisal and, since the restaurant is still offering an insanely good value deal (three courses with matched wines for £40 a head) and we have a visitor, now seems a propitious time to give it another try.

We’re glad to see that the dining room has had a bit of a makeover since our last visit – it looks a lot simpler and fresher – and there’s certainly nothing glum about tonight’s crowd, who are chatting happily away and tucking eagerly into their food. Like most set menus, there isn’t a great variety, but what’s on offer looks very appetising indeed, so we’re happy too.

My starter is the Loch Fyne crab cannelloni with lemon pearls, herb butter and baby coriander. Half of this is housed in a glass bowl, which covers a second bowl of cauliflower custard; this is being gently smoked even as I appraise it. It’s a neat bit of culinary showmanship, but it’s actually more than just that, because the rich smoky flavour really has permeated that custard and it’s all a delight to eat. The matched wine for this is Casa Bonita, a citrusy Spanish wine which combines chardonnay and macebeo grapes. Our visitor opts for the chicken and leek terrine which features prune compote, wild garlic mayonnaise, heritage carrots and beetroot pickled shallots. I have to say it looks pretty good too and she confirms that it tastes every bit as good as it appears.

For the main course, we all decide that we want the same, the 11 hour roasted Clash Farm belly pork, which is a bit useless in terms of a review, but we want what we want, and we’re sticking to it, so there’s nothing to be done about the situation. And none of us is disappointed with the choice because this is a regal repast, the sweet sticky pork topped with a crunchy skin. Actually, this dish has also had a bit of a makeover since I last sampled it. It’s now accompanied by a slice of blackened fillet, a pork-cheek pie, sweetcorn and a toffee-apple jus. Nothing here is as straightforward as you might expect. The fillet really does have a delightfully sooty coating, the pie’s pastry is satisfyingly crisp and even the slice of corn has been seared on a grill to maximise the flavour. All this goes perfectly with the glass of rich Casa Silva pinot noir accompanies it.

Having been unanimous about the main course, we’re equally fixed on our choice of pudding: the Great British Menu ‘knot’ chocolate tart. If you’re not mad about chocolate, this may not be the sweet for you but, to chocoholics like me, it’s a one-way ticket to heaven. The intensely flavoured chocolate (dark, milk and white varieties) comes with custard jelly, frozen cookies, creme fraiche parfait, salted caramel and kumquat parfait. My only complaint here is that it simply doesn’t last long enough, though I can’t help noticing that I finish my portion long before my companions. The accompanying wine is a thick, sherry-like Lafage Ambré, which I wouldn’t normally dream of drinking but, when matched with a dish like this, it works like a charm and makes nonsense of those people who claim that the sommeliers of the world are just making it up as they go along.

At this great value price, you’d be crazy not to nip along and give it a try – and, if money’s no object, you’ll be rewarded with some of the most adventurous and delightful cooking currently on offer in this fair city.

5 stars

Philip Caveney

 

Anita and Me

28/03/17

King’s Theatre, Edinburgh

Meera Syal really knows how to spin a yarn. I read and enjoyed Anita and Me when it was first published, back in 1996. I watched the 2002 movie adaptation too, which was okay, although more superficial than the source novel. So I am interested to see this musical stage production, which is a collaborative effort by The Touring Consortium Theatre Company and Birmingham Repertory Theatre.

And it’s a lively, energetic piece, with an animated central performance from Aasiya Shah as Meena. The story of a young British-Indian girl, coming of age in a time of overt racism, is nicely told. There is anger here – Meena’s fury at local heart-throb Sam’s bigotry and ignorance, for example, and her refusal to allow him to get away with saying “I don’t mean you; I mean those other ones” – but there is humour, sadness, and forgiveness too. Sam’s anger is misdirected, but it’s understandable. He’s at the bottom of the pile, and he’s just lashing out. Far more important is Meena’s internal struggle to come to terms with who she is and who she wants to be.

It doesn’t work as well as the novel: the brush strokes are too broad and the nuances are lost. Without Meena’s internal monologue to temper our impressions, we’re left with a lot of stock characters behaving in predictable ways, declaiming their positions in loud, stagey voices. The Black Country accents feel overdone; it all needs toning down a bit. The novel has the same naivety, but it’s more credible on the page, when it’s told from a ten-year-old’s point of view. Here, we see the adults on their own terms, not Meena’s, and they are just too exaggerated to convince. It’s a shame, because the amplification hides the heart.

Despite this, there are some lovely moments, and some strong performances. Shobna Gulati and Robert Mountford, as Meena’s parents, give the subtlest characterisations, and these are easiest to believe. Nanima is a gift of a comic role, and Rina Fatania clearly revels in it. Meena’s sung letters to agony aunts Cathy and Claire are a nifty device, allowing us some insight into how she feels. And the set is impressively detailed, with some clever scene changes incorporated.

All in all, this is an enjoyable show, with much to recommend it. But it’s not as good as the book.

3.6 stars

Susan Singfield

Richard Herring: The Best

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22/03/17

The Stand, Edinburgh

Let’s face it, it takes some chutzpah for a comedian to label his show ‘the best’ knowing full well the torrent of caustic putdowns that could inevitably follow such an outrageous claim. But after some discussion, we have to admit that there probably isn’t another stand up out there who is more deserving of the description. Herring has given us so much sheer enjoyment over the years.

We first encountered him at the Edinburgh Festival in 2010 with Christ On a Bike: The Second Coming and every year after that, the first show we would book would be his. We were distraught when he decided not to do the festival in 2015 and 2016, and delighted when we heard that he’s going to give it another shot this year. All in all, we’ve seen six of his shows and the beauty of it is, of course, that every one of them is completely different.

So here he is at Edinburgh’s most iconic comedy venue, offering 90 minutes selected from all 12 of his Edinburgh shows and we figure, if anybody has earned the right to perform a ‘best of’ compilation it’s the UK’s most hardworking (and in many ways, most criminally underrated) stand up comedian. He strolls onto the tiny stage, dressed more casually than we’ve seen him in a long time and launches headlong into his infamous Ferraro Rocher routine and as each successive clip segues into the next, the time just flies by while we sit there helpless with laughter.

It’s not rocket science. Obviously if you pick out all the funniest bits from over twenty hours of material, you’re going to be left with real quality and that’s pretty much what we get tonight, the perfect mix of silly, rude and cerebral. He keeps his Christ On A Bike material for the end and I still think that asked to pick my all time favourite, it would be this show, a dazzling tour de force of wit and invention, coupled with an amazing feat of memory – but that’s not to demean the rest of it. Herring at his least effective can still knock spots off most of his peers.

If you’re still unfamiliar with his work, we would urge you to seek him out at your earliest opportunity. If you can’t make it to a live slot, don’t forget there’s a whole raft of podcasts out there from his Leicester Square Theatre interviews, through As It Occurs To Me, right down to his Me1 vs Me2 snooker games. It’s all easily accessible and he leaves it up to you to decide if you ‘d like to pay him for the privilege of enjoying it.

There are precious few comedians who can offer such high output and fewer still who can maintain this level of quality. The Best? Yeah, we’re happy to go with that.

5 stars

Philip Caveney & Susan Singfield

Restaurant at the Bonham

09/0/17

Drumsheugh Gardens, Edinburgh

Edinburgh has more than its fair share of fine-dining establishments and, at the moment, there are some insanely good deals to be found. AA Rosette-winning The Restaurant at the Bonham is offering three courses and wine for just £23.50 per head. How can we resist?

Situated in a quiet backwater of the West End, the restaurant proves to be a pleasant environment in which to eat, quite busy when we arrive at just after eight pm but pleasantly so. The staff are welcoming and attentive and the oddly titled ‘boozy snoozy’ menu offers a choice of four dishes in each section.

For starters, Susan samples the organic beetroot Soup with goat cheese crouton. This is splendid; the soup is a thick deep red and deliciously sweet, the croutons making a crunchy, savoury contrast. I have the poached Egg with roasted onion consommé, lemon thyme and smoked duck. The egg is perfectly cooked and, an important point, the yolk when broken, cascades over the crispy, savoury accompaniment, offering all the flavours of a traditional fried breakfast with none of the grease. An excellent start.

The main courses are, if anything, even more assured. Susan’s Hake fillet is as light as you could possibly hope for, virtually melting in the mouth. It is accompanied by fennel croquettes and dressed with a richly fishy shellfish sauce. My Beef is also spot on, two generously sized onglet steaks, served medium rare and mouthwateringly succulent, dressed with a sweet onion purée and with a layered Pomme Anna on the side. The meat is smothered in a tangy bourguignon sauce, with an intriguing tang of aniseed.

We add a couple of side dishes at £3.50 a pop: a rocket and parmesan salad and – mostly because we are intrigued – stir fry cauliflower rice with pancetta. This is a little revelation. We’re always being urged to substitute cauliflower for rice in order to save calories and, I have to confess, it’s never sounded particularly  appealing, but this works brilliantly and it’s something we’ll definitely be trying at home.

And so to puds. Susan has the white chocolate and cranberry bread and butter pudding, which is endearingly gooey – while I opt for an old favourite, sticky toffee pudding, this version much lighter than the norm, which is a blessing because, by now, even I am getting pretty full. Both sweets are served with scoops of intensely flavoured vanilla ice cream and make a satisfying conclusion to the meal.

The bottle of house white that accompanies the meal is perfectly acceptable and, all things considered, this would still be impressive at twice the price. If you’re around Edinburgh, you’d be crazy not to try this offer. Get in there now before somebody decides that they should probably be charging more.

5 stars

Philip Caveney