Edinburgh

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

images.jpegIMG_2258.JPG

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

FullSizeRender 2FullSizeRenderFullSizeRender 3

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

FullSizeRenderFullSizeRenderFullSizeRender

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

tumblr_o7nct3VfMA1qbch0vo10_1280

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

images

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

 

IMG_1735IMG_1736

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

Tracks of the Winter Bear

19/12/15

Traverse Theatre, Edinburgh

It’s Christmas time, and the theatres are full of pantomimes and children’s tales. And that’s fine: I love a good panto, and some of my favourite stories are written (primarily) for a younger audience. But variety is the spice of life, they say, so the Traverse’s grown-up alternative is a very welcome thing.

Tracks of the Winter Bear comprises two short plays, companion pieces exploring the themes of love and loss. They’re separate yet linked, both intrinsically Edinburgian, set in the Abbeyhill district of the city. The same pub is referenced in both (The Regent Bar), and the two protagonists (Shula and Jackie) are  both lonely, middle-aged women, trying  – in their very different ways – to make some sense of their lives.

Act 1, by Stephen Greenhorn, is my favourite of the two. Using reverse chronology, it charts the tragic love affair of Shula (Deborah Arnott) and Avril (Karen Bartke). It’s a bleak but ultimately beautiful piece, with thoughtful, nuanced performances; Arnott, in particular, seems to embody the brittle hurt of grief.

Act 2 is an altogether stranger beast, telling the tale of a mangy polar bear and a washed-up Mother Christmas, both escapees from a tawdry Winter Wonderland theme park. The bear, cast adrift and hunted in an unknown land, speaks in the voices of those she has killed. Mother Christmas, or Jackie – played with bar-room swagger by the delightful Kathryn Howden – befriends her with promises of shortbread and love, and the two embark on an unlikely journey ‘home.’ It’s a fascinating premise and it’s very well-played (Caroline Deyga’s Bear is physically compelling), but it seems a little uncertain of its way, forsaking the early, earthy humour for a less engaging attempt at profundity.

Both pieces use what is essentially the same set, a narrow, snow-covered traverse stage (ironically, this is the first time we have seen this configuration at the, ahem, Traverse theatre). It’s curtained with a light gauze, which serves both to hint at snow in the air, and to create a misty, fairy-tale-like quality. The mirror-audience, visible throughout, magnifies my own reactions; it’s the perfect staging choice for this production, I think.

Overall, then, this is definitely one to watch. It’s interesting and original, and a welcome respite from all the feel-good fare.

4 stars

Susan Singfield

 

 

Burger

IMG_1693

24/11/15

Fountainbridge, Edinburgh

To be honest, I’d intended to go somewhere else entirely. (Kampung Ali, a low priced Malaysian joint on the road into Fountainbridge, really worth checking out) – but as luck would have it, the night I called it was booked out for a ‘musical evening’ and no food was being served. Rats!

Then I remembered Burger, just a bit further up the same road, a place which (let’s face it) has a name that gives you a fairly good intimation of what you might expect to find on the menu. And I thought, hey,  why not give it a shot?

It’s a utilitarian kind of joint, plain furnishings, no frills, but it’s clean and bright and friendly. You order at the counter, you’re given a little gadget which flashes when your food is ready (they are very quick here) and you collect the food yourself. The meal is served on a tin tray and the restaurant prides itself on being environmentally friendly. Even the cutlery is made from biodegradable corn starch. Of course, a burger isn’t likely to be top of anybody’s gastronomic highlights, but this was nicely done, (and it’s amazing how many places can get a simple burger wrong). The beef patties were thick and juicy, served on a lightly toasted brioche bun and featured generous amounts of cheese, sliced tomatoes, onions and gherkins, together with a splash of the restaurant’s tangy homemade sauce. Ketchup and French’s mustard were available if required.

The chips, cooked with their skin on, actually tasted as though they’d been made from fresh potatoes, which might sound obvious, but sadly, isn’t always the case. I kept things straightforward, going for the classic option, but there are other burgers of ever increasing complexity and price tags (katsu chicken burger anyone?) For those who don’t really care for burgers, there’s also a selection of hot dogs. I know, live dangerously.

My meal, with a can of drink, came to a very reasonable £9.35. Sometimes you want something quick and simple and in that situation, Burger  hits the spot very nicely. Perfect for a no nonsense meal and for those who are watching the pennies. The earth won’t move but you’ll come out feeling pleasantly full and here, that seems to be the object of the exercise.

4 stars

Philip Caveney