Edinburgh

Indigo Yard

06/11/16

Charlotte Street, Edinburgh

Indigo Yard is a a lovely pub/restaurant, owned by the Montpelier group, and just as delightful as the rest of their venues. Tucked away in a little lane at the end of Princes Street, it’s all wooden panels and candlelight. On this particular Sunday afternoon, it’s relatively quiet, but there are still enough punters to generate a buzz.

We’re here for a pre-theatre dinner, so we don’t experience the evening vibe. I imagine this place has a very different rhythm as the night draws in, and we’ll certainly be back some time soon to check this out.

Make no mistake: this is a long way from fine dining. This is ‘gromphy’ comfort food, and it’s very keenly priced. As well as the à la carte, there’s a set menu, where two courses cost just £10, and we decide to sample this.

To start, Philip opts for the smoked haddock fishcakes with hollandaise sauce, which are tasty and satisfying and nicely cooked. I go for the grilled halloumi and roasted red pepper salad with basil oil, which arrives on a bed of rocket with a sticky balsamic dressing. Yum! It’s simple, but it works, and the roasted peppers are deliciously sweet.

For the main, I choose an Indigo Orkney steak burger with fries. It’s not exciting – it’s a burger – but it’s exactly what I fancy and a decent plate of food. The burger is sturdy and well-flavoured, and the tomato relish adds a welcome piquancy; the fries are frozen, but they’re serviceable. There are sides of Mac N Cheese  on the menu, and the bacon with smoked Applewood cheddar version sounds so good, we decide to share a portion, just because we can. And we’re glad we do, because it’s pretty damned amazing. A bowl of this alone would constitute a perfect lunch, especially for diners nursing last night’s hangovers.

Philip’s main is more interesting than mine: it’s chicken and noodles with ginger and cashew nuts, and it’s lovely – all warmth and crunch and succulence.

We’re feeling greedy so, although we’re full, we decide to have dessert. We share a trio of sweet treats, which comprises small portions of banoffee pie, salted caramel & dark chocolate cheesecake and a lemon tart. The standout is the lemon tart, which is sharp and sweet as anything.

Even with a pint of beer and a bottle of Chilean sauvignon blanc, the bill comes in at just £63 – which is quite impressive for what we’ve had. Even more impressive is the fact that Indigo Yard is working with Scottish homeless charity, Social Bite, so we’re offered the chance to ‘pay it forward’ and buy a Christmas dinner for a homeless person. Who could refuse? £5 is a small addition to our bill, but it’s one that makes a difference.

All in all, our experience at Indigo Yard was an extremely positive one – and we’re happy to recommend it to anyone who wants to eat and enjoy themselves in Edinburgh.

4.2 stars

Susan Singfield

Grain in the Blood

03/11/16

Traverse Theatre, Edinburgh

Grain in the Blood is the second play by Rob Drummond we’ve seen this week, but it’s so different from the rambunctious, slapstick humour of The Broons that it’s hard to believe it’s from the same pen. This is a clearly a playwright who doesn’t want to be pigeonholed, who likes to experiment with a wide range of forms and genres. And this is all to the good, because Grain in the Blood feels like a real one-off, a spare, stark, unnerving chiller that is at once contemporary and classical. Its remote farmland setting is precise and detailed – and yet it could be anywhere. The dialogue is taut and ultra-modern in style, all fragments and silences and unfinished thoughts – but it could be any time. This is a complex, angular, unwieldy play – and it’s fascinating to see the plot unfurl.

Sophia (Blythe Duff) is a retired vet. Her son, Isaac (Andrew Rothney), has been in prison for years, ever since he murdered his wife, Summer. Sophia lives on the family farm, with her sickly granddaughter, Autumn (Sarah Miele), and Summer’s sister, Violet (Frances Thorburn). Autumn is dying; she needs a kidney transplant to survive. Under the careful watch of his minder, Bert (a wonderfully monosyllabic John Michie), Isaac is released from gaol for a long weekend, to meet his daughter and make a decision: will he donate a kidney to help her live?

There’s a sinister atmosphere on stage throughout, an uneasy sense of what might come to pass, accentuated by the presence of the shotgun we know is in the chest, by the slaughtered lambs and the kitchen knives. And the verses, recited by Autumn, conjure up an ancient world of witchcraft and folklore and bloody rituals.

The tension is palpable. There’s a school group sitting in front of us in the auditorium, and they’re so invested in the action that they gasp out loud as one, breathe out a collective “no” as the final plot point is revealed.

Orla O’Loughlin’s direction is subtle: these are actors who have been told to play the silence, explore the stillness, consider proxemics and use the edges of the stage – and this all helps authenticate that all-pervading sense of dread. Autumn’s bedroom, revealed by sliding walls at the back of the living room where everything else takes place, looks like the final picture on an advent calendar: the double doors opening to show an ethereal figure poised between life and death, bathed in yellow light and speaking truths. This potty-mouthed youngster is the moral heart of the play.

Grain in the Blood does what the best theatre should: it entertains, of course, but it also makes you think. It raises questions, demands answers. This is one I highly recommend.

4.7 stars

Susan Singfield

Jumpy

29/10/16

Lyceum Theatre, Edinburgh

Jumpy is a cracker of a show, at once funny and appalling, familiar and uncomfortable. It’s an episodic tale, a series of vignettes that combine to give a frank and detailed examination of a middle-class family life.

Primarily, this is the tale of Hilary and Tilly, a  mother and daughter struggling with their relationship. Hilary (Pauline Knowles) has just turned fifty, her marriage is stale and she’s about to lose her job. She’s in the habit of pouring a glass of wine as soon as she sets foot inside her home, and she’s frustrated by the way her daughter dismisses her. Tilly (Molly Vevers) is a truculent young woman, happy when she’s with her friends and angry with Hilary. Her anger isn’t specific – Hilary has done nothing wrong – it’s more of a howl against the world, where a fifteen-year-old can’t quite be free. She’s tugging at the apron strings, but of course still needs her mum.

Make no mistake, at its core this is a comedy, and the teenage angst is played for laughs. The way Vevers tuts and scowls and contorts her body stays just the right side of parody: this is adolescence writ large – played for humour but with enough realism to keep us all on side. And while Knowles’ portrayal of Hilary is touchingly vulnerable – she really seems to ache with the difficulty of it all – it’s still funny, in a wry, sardonic way.

There’s a great supporting cast too, most notably Gail Watson as Frances, whose burlesque routine is as impressive as it is hilarious, and Richard Conlon as Roland, the spineless cad who can’t see beyond his own shallow needs. And Stephen McCole’s Mark makes an interesting counterpoint, straight man to the comedians, the solid centre at the heart of Hilary’s life.

It’s brutal in places; it’ll make you question and evaluate the relationships you have with other people, the world, with politics (and wine). But that’s all to the good. April De Angelis’s play is definitely one to see. So get yourself a ticket, and catch it while you can.

4.6 stars

Susan Singfield

 

 

David Bann – Vegetarian Restaurant

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St Mary’s Street, Edinburgh

23/10/16

David Bann’s reputation for vegetarian fine dining is well known around Edinburgh, offering something more refined than the usual salad and quiche cafe experience. The deceptively spacious interior is clean and contemporary and there’s a relaxed atmosphere – yet there’s something decidedly old-school about the place. There’s no wi-fi on the premises and a quick internet search reveals that it doesn’t seem to have a Twitter handle, which – in this day and age – seems almost perverse.

The staff are friendly and accommodating however, and we’re soon enjoying some decent quality wine.  For my starter, I opt for a ravioli parcel with walnut on basil tomato soup. This is nicely cooked and presented,  the pasta parcel satisfyingly al dente, packed with a delicious walnut and spinach filling and floating serenely in a bowl of smooth herb-accented soup. Susan had the salad of fennel, beetroot, raspberry and poached egg. And again, this was handsomely presented, and deliciously fresh, the sharp tang of the raspberry adding a welcome zing – although the poached egg was disappointingly firm. In this kind of dish, you really want to see the yolk spilling over the salad. A minor niggle, perhaps, but an important one.

For my main course, I chose a bowl of stir fried vegetables with udon noodles and smoked tofu. Indeed, this was a popular choice with our party (four out of six of us chose it). It was nicely spiced with ginger and soy, while the smoked tofu was particularly tasty. It’s hard to get tofu just right and this was one of the best attempts I’ve tried. Susan’s baked crepe with spinach, mushroom and smoked cheese was very satisfying too, as well as being the most hearty of all the dishes we ordered, arriving, as it did, with a substantial portion of Mediterranean roasted vegetables.

We were pretty full at this point, so Susan declined a pudding, but I felt I had to sample the ginger and lime ice cream with orange cake –  mostly because it sounded really tempting – and I have to say it was every bit as delicious as it sounded, the orange cake succulently moist, the subtly flavoured ice cream good enough to die for, and packed into a dark chocolate nest. In many ways this was the most assured element of the meal. Across the table, I could see a hot peach and raspberry tart (freshly cooked to order in fifteen minutes), which also looked very appetising but was devoured by my dinner guest before I could steal a spoonful from his plate.

David Bann’s deserves its much-trumpeted reputation. For vegetarian diners who long for something special, this is clearly Edinburgh’s go-to venue. They really should sort out that wi-fi, though – and I’d be tweeting this review to others, if I only could…

4.6 stars
Philip Caveney

The Scran & Scallie

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05/08/16

Stockbridge, Edinburgh

We’re all familiar with the term ‘gastro-pub.’ Sadly, we’re also familiar with the soggy -lasagna-soup-in-a basket standard of fare that generally masquerades as superior pub dining. So welcome to the Scran & Scallie, a joint enterprise between Tom Kitchin and Dominic Jack, that genuinly deserves that gastro-pub tag. Situated on a quiet road in Stockbridge, the place has a relaxed feel, the staff are friendly and, for those on a budget, there’s a daily set lunch menu at £15 a head for three courses.

Today, however, was a day for pushing the proverbial boat out, so we opted to go a la carte. Service takes long enough to persuade you that dishes really are being made to order. A basket of crusty bread and butter kept us going while we waited. I started with smoked trout and potato salad, the flakes of trout cooked to perfection, the potatoes just al dente enough, the light dressing perfectly judged. Susan went for a heritage tomato salad, with black olives & consommé, deliciously light and intensely flavoured. Beside me, our companion announced that he was enjoying his chicken liver parfait & pickled cabbage, served with a couple of pieces of crunchy toast.

For the main course, two of us opted for the steak pie, which sounded alluring and looked quite majestic when it arrived, the light-as-a-feather canopy of pastry supported by a great big chunk of marrow bone, packed with a rich salty filling. There’s a portion of chips, chunky, crispy, exactly as good chips should be; and I chose a side of roasted new potatoes with chorizo, which made an inspired addition to the already intense flavour of the succulent meat. Our companion, ever the individual, went for beef sausage & mash, which arrived looking as though it had been designed primarily to illustrate what such a dish should look like – thick, juicy sausages, smooth-as-you-like spuds and a caramelised onion gravy. The only oddity here was the inclusion  of a couple of hefty-looking onion rings; they were  nicely cooked, lightly battered, the onion within still crispy. Perfectly tasty, but did it really belong on this dish? I’m not sure, but hey, it’s a minor niggle.

Be warned, the portions at The Scran  are best described as ‘hearty,’ so be prepared for that belly-slapping, contented feeling you only ever get when everything is exactly as you want it and there’s plenty of it. We were so full, in fact, we very nearly convinced ourselves that we couldn’t possibly bring ourselves to order a pudding, but then we saw the menu and decided to sacrifice everything for our art.

So there was a delightfully light sticky toffee pudding, drenched in a sweet sauce and served with a scoop of vanilla ice cream; and a vanilla cheesecake with Scottish raspberries, the cheesecake rich, smooth and flavoursome, perfectly contrasted with the acidity of those fresh raspberries. Yum.

Okay, so TS&S lacks the finesse of say, Castle Terrace, but then, that’s entirely the point. This is superior quality nosh, artfully cooked, nicely presented in a relaxed environment where you can happily enjoy a pint with your food. And it’s excellent. Apart from those onion rings, I couldn’t fault this, not one mouthful of it. If you’re in Edinburgh, looking for a memorable meal without the pretensions, this should be your first port of call.

5 stars

Philip Caveney

Castle Terrace, Edinburgh

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13/08/16

Castle Terrace’s reputation precedes it – and it’s a place we’ve wanted to visit for quite a while now; but somehow, we’ve never found the right time to do it. Now, newly relocated to Edinburgh and within a few days of our second wedding anniversary, plus a visit from our favourite nephew, we simply felt we’d run out of excuses. Time to put on what passes for our best bib and tucker and take that five-minute stroll around the corner.

First impressions are encouraging. The dining area is spacious and has a light contemporary feel, not in the least bit stuffy, like some other fine dining restaurants we might mention. The friendly staff begin by presenting each of us with three colourful amuse bouches – handsomely crafted little taste explosions, each with its own unique flavour. The first is the essence of a Caesar salad, the next crab, and the third beetroot and goat’s cheese. It’s a brilliant introduction and we haven’t even ordered yet.

The starters are a little slow in coming so what happens next? They bring us another amuse bouche, by way of apology, this one a brilliantly rendered miniature ‘egg’ made from panacotta, haddock and mango, packing an intense fishy flavour. It’s superb. There’s also a basket of hot bread with butter to spread on it, but we try to resist eating too much of it, wanting to keep our appetites keen.

The starters arrive. We’ve chosen raviloli of brown crab with minestrone of vegetable, served in its own bisque and ballotine of Ayrshire pork with gooseberry jelly and crackling. Both dishes are superb, the bisque on the former so rich and satisfying, you feel you want to wipe up every last drop with a chunk of that lovely bread. The pork is satisfyingly succulent and, if there’s a slight criticism here, it’s simply that the crackling seems a little too ‘wholesome,’ lacking the illicit smack of pork fat that would have made it perfect. But this is a tiny niggle, all things considered, and our livers will probably thank us for it.

Main courses duly arrive and are happily devoured – the Inverurie lamb is tender and juicy and served with a tempura of aubergine and apricot, light, crispy and packed with flavour. The seared wing of skate has a fresh, punchy taste and this is served with a crisp vegetable salad infused with a zesty lemon and lime dressing. The nephew opts for the pithivier of ox tongue with an heirloom tomato and basil salad. This has a crispy pastry top and comes with a dark and delicious jus. It is essentially a posh meat pie and I wondered if some equally posh chips might have been a more appropriate accompaniment, but we hear no complaints from Dylan.

Do we have room for dessert? Well, as this is the first time we’ve dined here, we make the ultimate sacrifice and say ‘yes.’ Pretty soon we’re tucking into a vanilla crème brulee (old school in a shallow dish with a crispy, seared topping) and – for me the star of the show – a dark chocolate and raspberry delice with Earl Grey custard. Imagine, if you will, something that looks like an oversized Tunnock’s teacake, handsomely decorated and made from superior ingredients. Break through the brittle carapace of dark chocolate and you release a flood of rich, raspberry ooze. The custard, which I’ll admit worried me somewhat when I read about it on the menu, makes the perfect accompaniment. Yes, it tastes of Earl Grey tea, but against all the odds, it complements the rich chocolaty dessert perfectly. Who knew?

We’re amazed to read after the event that Castle Terrace recently lost its coveted Michelin Star, but surely it can only be a matter of time before it’s reinstated? Because all things considered, this just might be… (takes a deep breath but says it anyway) the best meal I’ve ever eaten. What else can we give this but the full five stars? If you’re in Edinburgh and feeling flush, go a la carte. Otherwise, at lunchtime there’s a brilliant three course set menu at £29.50 per person, which will linger in the memory long after you’ve finished dining.

5 stars

Philip Caveney

Thon Man Molière

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01/06/16

Royal Lyceum Theatre, Edinburgh

Thon Man Molière is Liz Lochhead’s witty, irreverent imagining of a particularly awkward period in the infamous French playwright’s life. Fêted by the King, and finally achieving recognition for his work, Molière seems determined to self-sabotage, persisting with his play, Tartuffe, despite warnings that its depiction of a corrupt clergyman might not sit well with the highly religious monarch on whose patronage he depends. And that’s not all: he compounds the precariousness of his position by falling in love with and marrying a young woman who, it appears, may very well be his daughter.

It’s a subject ripe for comedy, and Lochhead’s script fizzes with quips and drollery. It’s laugh-out-loud funny at times, not least when contemporary Scottish dialect is employed in response to seventeenth century mores. The performances are uniformly strong, with Jimmy Chisholm managing to tread the fine line between vulnerable and repulsive in his depiction of the egotistical Molière, so that we do actually care what happens to him, even when his misfortunes are richly deserved. Siobhan Redmond is fantastic too, imbuing Madeleine Béjart, Molière’s sometime lover, with a dignity and credibility beyond the ‘tart with a heart’ archetype.

The set, mostly backstage at a theatre, is all muted monochrome, with the unpainted backs of flats on view. The costumes, glorious peacock-confections in the main, stand out in contrast to this, conveying perfectly the tawdry glamour of the theatre, and how it shines against the pall of ordinary life.

If there’a a quibble, it’s with the dialogue. Most of the time, it’s superb: funny and acerbic and nicely paced. But, now and again, we are fed great lumps of exposition, clumsily forced into a conversation, most of which we just don’t need. There’s no real benefit, for example, in giving the audience a detailed plot summary of one of Molière’s plays; it’s unnecessary and just slows things down.

But all in all, this is a lovely play: a uniquely Scottish take on a slice of French comedy.

4 stars

Susan Singfield

Love & Friendship

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29/05/16

Cameo, Edinburgh

Love & Friendship is an amalgamation of two early novellas (Lady Susan and Love and Freindship [sic]), penned by the esteemed Jane Austen when she was still in her teens. It’s a witty, acerbic tale, and seems true to the spirit of this oft-misunderstood writer in a way that many screen adaptations of her work do not. Romance, here, is never really the point; we don’t really care who marries whom. Instead, this is a satire: a deliciously wry examination of how people manipulate social mores.

Kate Beckinsale, as Lady Susan, is superbly cast. She is undoubtedly a venal fiend, and yet we root for her because… well, why not? She’s attractively rebellious and unrepentant in her selfishness, and – if some men are idiotic enough to fall for her games – then really, more fool them.

Most engagingly foolish of all is Tom Bennett’s James Martin, an affable buffoon, whose lack of intelligence is more than compensated by the size of his estate. Bennett milks his role’s comic potential, clearly relishing the chance to ask, in all seriousness, which of the twelve commandments he is allowed to break.

Oh, it’s a slight film all right, like Austen’s books,”a little bit (two inches wide) of ivory” – but it’s crammed full with such verve and vivacity that it’s hard to think of a more engaging way to spend an afternoon. Especially when we’re in the delightful environs of Edinburgh’s oldest and most loved cinema, the superb Cameo, where we’ve recently become members.

4.1 stars

Susan Singfield

Fishers In The City

 

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22/12/15

Thistle Street, Edinburgh

This restaurant came highly recommended and seemed like the perfect place to enjoy a pre-Christmas meal with a couple of friends. The venue was warm and welcoming, arranged on three levels, with subtly twinkling Christmas lights and friendly and attentive staff.

Annoyingly (at least for the purposes of this review) all four diners opted for the same starter – the Twice Baked Crayfish Fondue,  though there were several other temptations on offer. This proved to be a delight, rich, creamy and peppery, served on a bed of fresh rocket with tangy smoked tomato relish. It was simply delicious and all four portions were quickly polished off.

The main courses ended up as a 50-50 split. Two of us opted for the Fillet of Peterhead Halibut. The perfectly cooked fillet was served on a couple of spinach and ricotta rotolos, the pasta deliciously al dente, the layers of spinach rich with the tang of iron. There was a splash of orange and sage dressing to set the whole thing off perfectly. The other two diners chose the Whole Roast Sea Bass. Again, the fish perfectly cooked, the flesh falling from the bone and served with the head on, this came accompanied by a pea shoot pear and fennel salad, with a pecorino, maple syrup and caraway dressing, which was light and refreshing.

Did we have room for dessert? Well, it is nearly Christmas! Once again there was a two way split on this – two of us opted for  the Chocolate and Hazelnut Tart, which was dense and rich with bitter chocolate and came with a slice of salted praline crunch and a scoop of vanilla ice cream. The other two diners had the Pear Parfait, a sweet and delicate confection served with liquorice jelly and mulled pear sorbet.

We drank a couple of bottles of a very decent house white and we all announced that we would recommend Fishers In The City as a lovely place to meet and eat.

4.2 stars

Philip Caveney

 

The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe

20/12/15

The Lyceum, Edinburgh

The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe is a well-loved and familiar tale with a guest spot for Santa Claus; no wonder it’s become a staple family Christmas show. And the Lyceum’s production starts off wonderfully; the design (by Becky Minto) is breathtaking: the all-important transition from Britain to Narnia eliciting an audible response from the audience.

The parallels between the two worlds (and Narnia’s appeal) are highlighted by the double casting: both places are being torn apart by war but, while in the real world the children are bystanders, exiled from their home with no option but to wait things out, in Narnia they play an active role; they are no longer helpless children, sidelined and ignored.

It’s a shame, then, that some elements of the play seem almost perfunctory. Peter’s battle with Maugrim, for example, lacks any real sense of menace. Some scenes, most notably Aslan’s murder – but there are others too – are crying out for a chorus: ‘Come, every spirit, every wraith,’ chants the White Witch, played with wonderful malevolence by Pauline Knowles. But no one comes, or hardly anyone: three makes for a very sparse crowd. In Manchester, student choruses seem quite the thing; we’ve seen actors-in-training from local universities employed in several professional productions there and this might have been an idea here. The Lyceum’s Narnia would be more convincing if it were more densely populated.

The children’s delivery is a bit stage-school and declamatory for my taste; they’re not actually kids, of course, but young adults, which might account for the vocal tics as they try to make themselves sound more youthful. And I wish that Aslan were more than just a man in a fur suit.

That said, it’s still a magical show in places, with spark and vim enough to keep a young audience entranced. The final battle scene is beautifully done, all lights and ribbons and roaring sound effects. At its best, this play is very good indeed. It’s just a bit uneven, I suppose.

3 stars

Susan Singfield