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February 2014

bistro/ blog/ Edinburgh/ food/ restaurant/ review

Edinburgh Restaurant Review: The Apiary – Make a beeline for this buzzing bistro

a pudding of chocolate brioche with ice cream and custard
Choco-brioche butter pudding loveliness. 

I’m sure I am not alone in thinking that late February can be a bit grim. Whilst spring is tantalisingly just round the corner, the second month of the year can still dampen spirits, with its short days, long nights and stormy weather. Sometimes, a pick-me-up is needed at this time of year. And what better to boost spirits than visiting a new restaurant that is generating a bit of a buzz?

I had already been hearing good things – from the likes of Lunchquest and Scotland on Sunday’s Richard Bath – about The Apiary, even though the place only opened a few weeks before Christmas 2013. Occupying premises in Edinburgh’s Newington district – that previously housed the Metrople café-bar – a glance at the new restaurant’s website indicated it promised “Modern British grub to comfort or excite; pickling, smoking and preserving all done in house…” together with “Top to tail offerings dressed head to toe in tasty.” Home curing, smoking and pickling AND nose to tail grub – well that most definitely whets my appetite. So maybe The Apiary would provide the culinary lift I was looking for?

Initial portents were promising, as so busy was the restaurant on a wet winter Saturday that the only dinner reservation available was at 7pm. When we arrived, the large and airy dining area was already peppered with full tables, so we were courteously shown to one of the leather-upholstered booths that line its walls. With the combined a la carte and specials menus offering plenty to consider – including some very appetising-looking sharing platters – we ordered a couple of beers (with my Harviestoun Wild Hop IPA being notably refreshingly bitter) whilst we made our choices.


Just as when we thought we’d finished placing our order, our server – and I should point out that the front of house staff really know the menu, and how to make diners feel at ease – drew our attention to the “side bar” section of the carte. A side order of crispy pig’s ear, smoked Maldon salt and aioli – oh why ever not?! And as our starters appeared so did a beautifully crisp – yet fruity – bottle of Marqués de Altillo Rioja blanco.

A Ham hock hash cake with poached egg and hollondaise.
Ham hock hash & hollandaise.

Our choice of wine proved an ideal accompaniment to JML’s first course of ham hock hash cake, with poached egg and hollandaise. This proved to be a generous, round slab of fried mashed potato combined with meaty morsels exuding delicious smoked porcine flavours, and brilliantly set off with silky-smooth sauce and an egg poached to perfection. To be honest, it was a challenge to solicit a forkful from my dining partner for me to try. My choice of starter counts as one of my all-time favourite dishes, so the pressure was on – but I needn’t have worried. The plate of crispy whitebait that landed on the table was absolutely spot on, harbouring an intense taste of seafood which was further enhanced by being dipped in the accompanying citrus-infused mayonnaise. This was most definitely good mood food.

For his main course, JML moved from ham to lamb – a dry spice rubbed rump (to be precise) accompanied by mint yoghurt, Moroccan aubergine and flatbread. When carved, the meat was a perfectly-cooked pink, with its great taste being further enhanced by a coating of North African spiciness. Together with the well-matched accompanying ingredients, this was a plate that would definitely have you believe you were dining nearer Marrakech than Marchmont!

A dish of Roast breast of pheasant and pigeon with red cabbage and mash.
Fab pheasant – but maybe a bit more saucy? 

My choice of pheasant breast wrapped in prosciutto, pigeon breast, crème potato mash, braised red cabbage, and red wine jus presented perhaps the only slight blip in what was turning into an excellent evening. Don’t get me wrong, it wasn’t a bad dish at all, with the pheasant being richly gamey and succulent (which can be hard to achieve this late in the season), and the accompanying prosciutto and red cabbage respectively adding nice salty and fruity contrast. But the crème mash could have maybe been a wee bit more, well creamy, and it would have been nice to have had more of a puddle of the wine reduction on the plate. It’s probably just that the starters had set the bar very high. We couldn’t fault the side of crispy, salted, shredded pig’s ear, mind – imagine sweet, crisp, umami-laden slithers of pork scratching, and you’ll be getting there.

Having put away two pretty accomplished courses, we paused for breath before consuming pudding. This gave me time to properly take in the ambience of The Apiary, and I have to say the team behind it have managed to create a really pleasingly informal – but not too laid back – vibe, the kind that can be frequently encountered when dining in decent bistros on continental Europe. A commendable achievement in a building that was formerly a bank.

Pudding of Coconut and cardamom sponge with Malibu and lime syrup.
A cracking coconut & cardamom sponge. 

And so to the desserts… I went for the warm coconut and cardamom sponge, with a Malibu and lime syrup and vanilla ice cream. It was light, yet packed with exotic coconut richness, which combined tremendously with the subtle floral hint provided by the cardamom, and the zingy notes coming from the lime syrup. Plus the ice cream was excellent, too. Across the table from me, an absolute triumph of a sweet was being consumed. The combination of a chocolate and brioche butter pudding, with orange zest, chocolate and stem ginger ice cream, and crème anglaise was something magical. It tasted every bit as warming and comforting as it looked, and those are the words spoken by someone who claims not to have a sweet tooth.

This restaurant is a cracking wee find. It’s friendly, without being too casual; the front of house staff are simply charming; and the kitchen turns out some fantastically enjoyable and inventive food, yet without making it overly complicated. It also offers some excellent lunch and pre-theatre deals. To be honest, it’s the sort of place you’d probably like to keep as your little secret. But that wouldn’t be fair. So, as the long winter closes (or at any other time of year, for that matter) if you want to put a spring in your step, make a beeline for The Apiary.

Food 8/10
Atmosphere 8/10
Service 8/10
Value 8/10

Ambience – Expect a venue with a relaxed – but elegant – bistro/café ambience.

The Apiary on Urbanspoon

blog/ diner/ Edinburgh/ food/ Glasgow/ restaurant/ review/ USA

Glasgow Restaurant Review: Ad Lib – Bringing an authentic flavour of NYC to GLA

Sumptuously sticky ribs
Sumptuously sticky ribs. 

The Dear Green Place, Glasvegas, Glaschu or simply Glasgow. Whatever you prefer to call it, as an Edinburgher I have a soft spot for Scotland’s second city. Yet despite the fact that it’s only 40 miles and 50 minutes away on the train, for some reason I don’t seem to visit Scotland’s largest metropolis anywhere as often as I should, despite the fact it has some great places to eat and drink. The centre of Glasgow is architecturally stunning, and very different from Edinburgh. Like Birmingham – the city of my birth – it grew out of the industrial revolution, and similarly its city centre is still adorned with many of the grand Victorian buildings constructed from its industrial wealth. Central Glasgow is also laid out in a grid system, which – it is rumoured – inspired the one that is now such a prominent feature of New York. It has even doubled as the Big Apple on a number of film shoots.

How appropriate then that when JML and I caught up with some friends in Glasgow last weekend, one of the members of our party suggested we go for lunch at Ad Lib – a New York-inspired eatery a stone’s through away from the city’s grand Central Station (sorry!). To be honest, it wasn’t a place I had heard of before, but I do love the melting pot of influences and flavours there is to be had in a decent US diner – even one located on Scotland’s West Coast – so was most definitely keen to give it a go.

A blackboard of splendid special dishes.
Splendid specials.

The frontage of Ad Lib is certainly understated – not the brash Americana one might expect, given its culinary specialisation – and my first thought on stepping through the door was that the place was “toty”. Yet I was actually greeted by a slim, but cleverly stylish, dining space leading to the bar and main restaurant area, and which matches vermillion walls, cubic wooden furniture and tasteful, US-influenced artwork. Collectively, this had more of a nod to Frank Lloyd Wright than Trump Towers, I am pleased to say. Beyond the bar the airy dining room offers more of this stylish, Greenwich Village-esque vibe. But enough already about the décor, what about the food?

Ad Lib’s lunch menu is engaging in a “I really can’t make up my mind what to have” sort of way. Inviting sounding starters and mains, deli salads and sandwiches, gourmet burgers, steak AND lobster (I kid you not), and a burgeoning specials board all vie for attention. Now, for the purposes of this review I shall be focusing on what JML and I consumed, given that trying to cover what eight people were eating might just stretch a point a wee bit too far. Oh, and in terms of drinks, I should point out that Ad Lib serves the excellent Portuguese lager that is Sagres on draft, meaning this was our quaff of choice. So…

A very substantial burrito.
That really is a “Big Burrito”.

In choosing a dish to kick of proceedings, I was somewhat torn. The salt and pepper squid, and Cajun prawn popcorn both sounded really inviting, but in the end it was the sticky molasses baby back ribs, with chilli and star anise than won me over. They certainly did not disappoint, featuring perfectly tender meat adorned in a tackily sweet-rich-spicy sauce, topped with a zingy fresh tomato salsa. Truly splendid. JML’s starter consisted of three ‘sliders’ (why so named?) – mini classic Aberdeen angus burgers accompanied by an onion relish. These were certainly tasty, with the relish providing a nice contrast to the umami flavour of the beef, but maybe the burgers were just ever so slightly on the dry side.

A basket of fried fish and chips
A lovely basket-o-fish.

Deciding on a main was an equally involved affair, especially when the specials board was also brought into play. It was the “Big Burrito” that caught JML’s attention, and this turned out to be a dish that could under no circumstances be accused of being misdescribed. What arrived was a gargantuan portion of seared stake, combined with chorizo, red rice, and black beans, all neatly encased in a dustbin lid-sized tortilla, and topped off with fresh salsa and sour cream. It was a plateful that would not look out of place on Man Versus Food, but the fact that it presented little challenge for my dining companion indicated just how good it was. Having started with turf, I moved onto surf for my main course, deciding to try the intriguingly named Bloody Mary basket ’o’ fish. This transpired to consist of an excellently cooked portion of haddock, bream and king prawns, all coated in a rich – but light – tomato infused batter, and sat upon a mini washing basket of skinny fries. Only a bit more kick and smokiness from the accompanying smoked chilli mayo would have made this really good dish a great one.

A strawberry sundae dessert.
Sundae, scrummy sundae.

By the time it came to ordering sweets, I must admit that we were flagging, as were our waistlines. But so cannily persuasive were the young restaurant staff that we crumbled – we were signed up to the authentic US diner experience, after all. My New York ice cream waffle sundae – accompanied with hot toffee sauce, toasted pecans and berries – provided a good combination of textures flavours, even for someone who is a bit of a self-proclaimed “pudding-o-phobe”. Across the table, a home baked millionaires’ shortbread cheesecake was efficiently dispatched. Very pleasant, but a bit heavy after the “Big Burrito”, was JML’s opinion. Oh, and not enough evidence of the shortbread. Probably wouldn’t have been shopping on Fifth Avenue, as a result.

There is very much to like about Ad Lib. It’s a welcoming restaurant that is simultaneously stylish, yet laid back. It captures the essence of what makes American deli food so tempting and scrumptious, without turning itself into a pastiche. So if you are hungry in GLA and fancy a taste of NYC, be sure to check out this easy-going eatery.

Food 7.5/10
Drink 7/10
Service 7/10
Value 7.5/10

Ambience – Expect a stylish, yet laid back diner-come-bistro.

Ad Lib on Urbanspoon

blog/ Edinburgh/ food/ haggis/ neeps/ recipe/ Robert Burns/ supper/ tatties/ whisky/ wine reduction

Recipe: Going for the Burns (supper) – A reconstructed take on haggis, neeps and tatties

Reconstructed Scottish classic – haggis, neeps & tatties.

This is set to be an interesting year for anyone living in Scotland – a county that has been my home for the majority of my adult life. Firstly, 2014 has been designated the year of Homecoming Scotland – a programme of events and activities showcasing all that’s great about Caledonia. Secondly, for sports fans there is golf’s Ryder Cup, and the excitement of Glasgow’s Commonwealth Games – having experienced London 2012, I personally can’t wait. Oh, and there is September’s referendum on whether Scotland should become an independent nation again, which will have repercussions, whatever the result…

It’s somewhat appropriate then, given that this is such a big Scottish year, that a Burns supper was my first celebratory meal of 2014. For those not familiar, Robert (or Rabbie) Burns is Scotland’s national bard, an 18th century poet, writer and lyricist, claimed as an inspiration to the founders of both liberalism and socialism, and author of works that include A Man’s A Man For A’ That and Auld Lang Syne. Burns suppers are traditionally held each 25 January to mark the poet’s birthday and celebrate his life and work.

A Burns supper may vary from formal to casual, but will almost always have three elements in common: the reciting of Burns’ poems at some point in proceedings; the partaking of a “nip” or two of Scotch whisky; and a main course that consists of haggis, neeps (bashed turnips or swedes) and tatties (mashed potatoes). This is very traditional Scottish fare, historically eaten by people of limited means. The vegetables used were cheap and plentiful, and haggis consists of lamb offal – usually liver, lungs and heart – mixed with oatmeal, onion, suet and spices, all encased in a sheep’s stomach and simmered in water.


Chieftain of the pudding race ready for cooking.

Haggis might not sound appetising to everyone but it is the original “nose to tail” food, and tastes delicious. And these days, equally tasty vegetarian versions of the “chieftain of the pudding race” – as Burns called the dish – are readily available. This got me thinking that tradition is great, but tastes evolve and progress. Scotland’s culinary scene is now very different – and dare I say much more diverse and sophisticated – to how it was even a couple of decades ago. So why not try a reconstructed take on haggis, neeps and tatties for Burns night or indeed any other dinner that takes one’s fancy?

 So I give you a stack of whisky infused haggis and crushed neeps with chilli and sage butter, topped with a garlic and thyme flavoured fondant potato, and served with stock and red wine reduction.  At the risk of appearing immodest, it tastes as good as it looks. As Burns so eloquently put it, in Address to a Haggis.

And then, O what a glorious sight,
Warm-reekin’, rich!

Oh, and remember – you don’t have to limit haggis, neeps and tatties only to Burns night. It’s a great dish for any autumn or winter evening…

Recipe will feed two people generously.

Ingredients

  • One small haggis (either meat-based or vegetarian) of good quality, such as those made by MacSween or Simon Howie
  • 1 small, or half a large, turnip (swede) peeled and cut into 1-2cm cubes
  • 1 very large or two large potatoes, peeled
  • A few fresh sage leaves, lightly crushed
  • 1 red chilli – deseeded if you prefer less heat – finely sliced
  • 250ml of good quality chicken or vegetable stock (for the fondant potatoes)
  • Around 400ml of good quality beef or vegetable stock (for the reduction)
  • A large glass of decent red wine – about 250ml – if you wouldn’t drink it don’t cook with it, is my rule!
  • Unsalted butter – for frying the potatoes and adding to the ‘neeps.
  • A good nip of decent whisky – see guidance on wine (above)
  • A couple of cloves of garlic, peeled but left whole
  • A couple of sprigs of thyme
  • Salt and black pepper, to taste.


Preparation and cooking

  1. Cook the haggis as per the maker’s instructions – I always think traditional simmering is better than microwaving, even if this takes longer.
  2. Place the turnip (swede) chunks into a saucepan, fill with water and add a generous pinch of salt. Bring to the boil, then turn down to a simmer and cover, cooking until the chunks become tender (about 10-15 minutes should do it).
  3. Whilst the turnips are cooking gently melt a good chunk of butter (about 30-50g) in a saucepan and when this begins to foam add the crushed sage. Turn off the heat. Now add the chilli to the butter and sage, swirling the mixture around for a few seconds, and set aside.
  4. To prepare the fondant potatoes trim the top and bottom off the peeled spud(s) and cut out two round shapes about three or four centimetres thick – a cookie cutter can help with this and if you want to be really “cheffie” trim off (turn) the edges to make a bevelled shape. Set aside in a bowl of cold water with a squeeze of lemon until ready to cook.
  5. Once the turnips are cooked drain them and add the sage and chilli butter – having first removed the sage leaves. Mash until getting towards smooth but still with a bit of texture (you are not looking for a cream). Season to taste and set aside until the haggis is ready.
  6. When the haggis is cooked remove the minced contents from the surrounding casing and place in a bowl. Pour in the nip of whisky and stir into the haggis “meat”. If it is a decent specimen, it will need no further seasoning.
  7. Lightly oil a non-stick baking tray/sheet and the inside of two cooking rings – around 10cm in width and 6cm tall. Place the rings on the baking sheet, divide the haggis between each of them, and firm down with the back of a spoon. 
  8. Next divide the crushed neeps between the rings, to form a layer on top of the haggis. Firm down and smooth the top surface. Brush with a little melted butter. Put the stacks into a preheated oven to 170 degrees Celsius for around 25mins, until thoroughly warmed through.
  9. Put the stock and wine for the reduction in a saucepan and place on a high heat. On a fast simmer reduce until 2/3 of the liquid has evaporated. Keep an eye on it and turn off the heat, and re-warm before serving, if the reduction is quick. You should be after a moderately thick, silky sauce.
  10. Melt a good lump of butter in a medium size frying or sauté pan, over a medium heat. Drain the potatoes and pat dry. When the butter is foaming put the fondants in the pan and fry for around five minutes until the side in contact with the pan becomes golden. 
  11. Turn over the potatoes and fry for a further five minutes – or so – until the other side is also golden. Add the stock, followed by garlic and thyme, cover and simmer until the potatoes become tender. Keep warm.
  12. When the haggis and neeps stacks are ready, carefully remove them from the cooking ring and place each one on the centre of a warmed dinner plate. Arrange a warm fondant potato on top of each stack. 
  13. Spoon a generous serving of the wine and stock reduction around each stack, and serve.

Although traditionally haggis, neeps and tatties are served on their own, they go well with green vegetables, such as the braised leeks that accompanied my take on the dish.

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