Feast Blog

An older review, with no pictures, but still of interest…

For $30, this is a very, very good establishment. I was fortunate to share the meal with a friend who is great at eating half a plate and switching so for starters, we shared a salmon salad with fennel and sumac. This was very nice and quite summery; a platter of smoked Pine Loch Duart Salmon topped with a shredded fennel salad, studded with sumac and a citrus dressing. The salmon was not overly smoked and of great quality. Cool and refreshing, served with a Rhone white blend, this was the preferred starter. The second was a foie flan, served warm with apples and and a port glaze. While good, it seemed out of place at this time of year. I would have adored it in October or November, but for summer fare, I think it should have been more indicative of its season; cool and enticing instead of warm and comforting.

Our second set of shared courses started with “Crispy Monterey Calamari Sundried Pesto, Parmesan Risotto, Green Sechwan Foam.” I’m not entirely what sechwan (schezwan?) is, but this was very interesting risotto with a bit too many flavors. The calamari themselves were absolutely perfect when they could have been incredibly rubbery. And the risotto, again, was absolutely flawlessly prepared — not too al dente or too soupy. But with such distinguishsed rice and fish, and very good sundried pesto, why add the foam? Or, why add the pesto? Either flavor would have been just fine, but both together seemed too convoluted. My friend ordered and drank all of his Cotes du Rhone with this dish and I only had a quick sip so I have no comment.

The other entrée was “Pulled Lamb, Eggplant, Red Bell Pepper Coulis, Pesto.” This was served on a smaller plate and while a smaller portion, did not pull punches on flavor or quality. Tender and rich, the pulled lamb was piled into a large meatball-sized offering of rich meat with slices of thin eggplant and the two rich sauces; the red pepper coulis and the pesto. In this case, the two sauces worked well with the rich meat but like the foie, would seem a better dish served in the fall. It was very nice and homey, but slightly ill-conceived for the season. I ordered a du Pape with the lamb and with a freshly opened bottle, needed some breathing room to open.

Two desserts came out and we gave the waiter/Maitre’d carte blanche to serve us some dessert wine. The first dessert we finished easily was a “Vanilla panna cotta, Strawberry pepper coulis, candy almond” served with a glass of Sainte-Croix-Du-Mont. A very well-made panna cotta, it was the combination of fruit and cruncy bits that brought the dessert together. Or maybe it was the Sainte-Croix-Du-Mont, a slight botrytris cinera wine with beautiful brightness to juxtapose the fruit and nut. The other dessert was ‘chocolate moelleux, ”Mint creme Anglaise”‘. I’m sorry I didn’t make a note of the cognac-based dessert wine we had; very clear and light, there was just enough spunk to complement the rich, molten chocolate and hint of mint from the Anglaise. I was a little concerned; usually Banyuls or port works well with chocolate, EXCEPT when mint is introduced as a flavor element. All three offerings were just lovely and a great ending.

But we didn’t finish there. As we finished up the meal, we were each brought a half-glass of sparkling rosé, a perfect after dinner aperitif that was unexpected and quite thoughtful. The meal with drinks was in the $125 range before tip. And while the major detractor was that the dishes were served a little off-season, this is a delightful unexpected French bistro that should have been busier than they were.

Over twenty years ago, I was completely entranced by the cooking of Michael Chiarello when he owned Tra Vigne. In 1985 he was named Food & Wine Magazine‘s Chef of the Year and I think that celebrity got to him because the quality at Tra Vigne went down hill, there were numerous rumors of Chiarello’s ego causing problems, and ultimately he sold the restaurant. For several years, Tra Vigne was sort of a laughing joke in the Napa Valley and the only business it saw was by tourists who didn’t know any better. He had a reputation in the valley as a bit of scamp.

And then Chiarello seemed to clean up his act. He put his name on a handful products through the brand, Napa Style. He started doing some television and getting a respectable mantle through television. But would he ever open another restaurant? Well, yes and hearkening back to those glory days of Tra Vigne, Bottega is packing them in and with good reason. I was going up to visit some old friends and suggested Bottega which is walking distance from their home. As it turned out, that evening was a special occasion with a related book signing by Lidia Bastianich and it was great fun watching Chiarello and Bastianich make the rounds around the room in between their own noshing.

It was quite an evening for me for a myriad of reasons; getting an opportunity to see old friends mostly, but also the menu gave me multiple opportunities for research. To start, there was a savory option of fried dough, which I wrote about here. I was having quite a time determining what to have as a main course and ultimately, it was easier to ask the waiter to just bring me his favorite fish course. I was not disappointed by the surprise; Adriatic Seafood Brodetto with monkfish, mussels, rock cod and fresh Monterey calamari, forno-confit tomato broth, olive oil-crouton, paprika-saffron rouille. Like a thicker and richer version of Cioppino, the selection of fish was fresh and the mussels were especially large and tender. I liked the rouille-topped crouton as a tangy counterbalance to the redolent sauce.

Being pretty full from a huge appetizer (half of which was packed for leftovers) and the entrée (also half of which was packed for leftovers), the table shared a selection of biscotti cookies. I tasted the dark chocolate square and a sugar cookie that had a hint of saffron to it. But then there came a follow-up dessert, a sweet version of fried dough, the full report of which is over on the Fried Dough Ho site!

In researching the finer restaurants in Edinburgh, one name was mentioned more than others; The Witchery. Looking at their website, one sees a celebrity list to rival an BAFTA runway. It took a bit of work to get reservations and before my arrival, I asked local cab drivers and hotel staff what they thought. All were enthusiastic with exclamations of, “Oh! That is where my husband brought me for my anniversary last year!” or “It is the most elegant restaurant in town — a place to go for special occasions!” Upon arrival, I could see the décor as reminiscent of an old world men’s club with its dark wood and elegance. I was greeted warmly and seated near the outdoor garden. Perusing the menu, I had mostly decided to order a variety of starters as they did not offer a tasting menu (despite asking beforehand).

At a table nearby, I spied another solo diner, a young woman asking the waiter what venison tasted like. It was obvious he couldn’t supply even the modicum of a reasonable answer and I intervened to offer an explanation. Realizing that she was not waiting for anyone, I invited her to join me at my table as we were both obviously dining alone. Melody and bonded quickly; both traveling alone, both looking for the best restaurant in town, and (charmingly enough), both members of a known cabal of knitters via Ravelry.com. Chatting about food and travel and yarn, a friendship was born over what would ultimately prove to be incredibly mediocre food.

Wanting to experience the ultimate in a haggis experience, I started my meal with their “Finlay’s of Portobellow award winning haggis” served with “neeps and tatties” (potatoes and rutabagas). Going completely traditional, I also ordered a serving of Scotch, a 20-year Oban. The potato was whipped and formed into a quennelle, then fried while the neeps was puréed and served alongside a golfball-sized haggis. Despite an insipidly thin sauce, this was the most intriguing dish of the evening so that doesn’t say much. Melody ordered a starter of scallop which was served in a half-shell with Iberico pancetta. These scallops were obviously sliced in half, swimming in over-seasoned, over-cooked and over-salted melted butter. Mel enjoyed them, but I found them inedibly salty.

Our main courses arrived. Melody definitely enjoyed her first-time venison, but I found it flabby and poorly prepared. Under the fanned slices of over-cooked meat was some of the same neeps purée that I had with my haggis and a slice of potato gratin all surrounded with a puddle of thin, clumsy sauce. The plating and all the components seemed rather bourgeois after the perfection and artistry I had experienced the night before at The Kitchin. The true catastrophe of the meal lied in my seafood platter. A cold selection of local seafood, the platter included oysters, clams, mussels, lobster, and prawns. There was also a half-shell offering of smoked salmon, tartare, and some mayonnaise-based fish salad. While not blatantly bad, it was obvious that it was simply not the best quality fish available, nor had it been recently prepared. The clams and mussels were puny and chewy. The lobster was mealy. The oysters were not well-shucked with bits of shell and no liquor left with the mollusk meat. Had Melody not helped me out, more than half of the offering would have sat un-eaten. 

I wasn’t ready to give up on the food and my new compatriot and I were having such a great time chatting that we decided to give the desserts a try. In my usual fashion, I opted for a cheese plate with a glass of Sauterne. Between The Kitchin and the café at Modern Art Museum, I had experienced several excellent offerings of Scottish-made cheeses and I was anxious to taste some more. God bless Mel for picking the dessert sampler which included a chocolate torte and sorbet, mango parfait, bread and butter pudding, pistachio macaroon, and puff candy ice cream. My cheese plate was offered in a rather perfunctory fashion with no descriptives and I called the waiter over to ask for an explanation of what types of cheeses I was being served. He started to tell me so that I could make notes when I realized he was speaking French. Well, they were all French cheeses — no local Scottish or even English cheeses. I didn’t bother to write them down. And Mel’s dessert sampler? I think we liked the chocolate torte but they were all unremarkable and went unfinished.

So, is The Witchery all it is cracked up to be by those locals who had raved about it? I believe it is but only because it is mired in a 1970s sentimentality of what a fancy, special occasion restaurant should be. It is all bells and whistles and no substance. And for those in search of truly excellent cuisine, it should be avoided at all costs. But for me, it will be the place where I at least met a great new friend.