FLATTERING TO DECEIVE
The mystery diner may be forced to give new Edinburgh restaurant Hawksmoor a second chance
M y challenge was a simple and – hopefully – enjoyable one: find a restaurant that fits with our luxury theme, sit back and enjoy. What could be easier?
The first thing we had to do was agree on where to go. Our first decision was to give the country’s twelve Michelin-starred establishments a side-swerve on the basis that they’re too trite and obvious. Instead, our interest was piqued by the capital’s newest and swankiest venue, the Edinburgh Grand.
Opened recently on St Andrew Square after an £85m redevelopment, the former RBS building is home to 50 eye-wateringly expensive serviced flats, plus the Champagne and cocktail bar where we started our epicurean odyssey. From the marble floors to the wood-panelled walls, the whole place reeks of quality and cash. It was, we decided, the perfect place to start for an issue dedicated to decadence and the finer things in life.
The Register Club is the Edinburgh Grand’s reservation-only Champagne and cocktail bar on the fourth floor of this incredible building, just below the penthouse flats with 360 degree views of Edinburgh and a price tag of £2,000 per night. It’s a great place to kickstart a relaxed yet swanky night out: it’s quiet, and with its leather amchairs and burnished wood its timeless atmosphere is reminiscent of a gentleman’s club. It also has a huge and well-chosen list of fizz, cocktails and wines that makes this lounge lizard’s heart sing. The whole place is designed to quietly evoke the 1920s, and it succeeds.
Sadly, although the Register Club does food, it serves lighter (although, judging from secondhand testimony, very good) dishes while we were in the mood for a big slap-up so after whetting our whistle we headed onto stage two of our evening.
This consisted of heading to the new Hawksmoor restaurant, which although being on the ground floor of the Edinburgh Grand, is not part of the same operation. Nevertheless, it’s
nearby and has been getting rave reviews after opening just before the Festival started; even that doyenne of restaurant reviewers, Glaswegian Marina O’Loughlin, said that ‘Hawksmoor is that rarest of things: an instant classic’. When a Belgian foodie pal who has proved virtually impossible to please said he had recently had a stellar meal there, my mind was made up.
Hawksmoor have rented the bottom floor of the Edinburgh Grand, and it’s a lovely space. Just like The Dome on George Street and The Corinthian in Glasgow’s Merchant City, it is in an elaborately corniced and high-ceilinged former bank building with an unmistakeable whiff of a grand Parisian salon. There’s plenty of wood panelling, and a bar in the centre of the large room to break up the tundra of parquet. The ambience is buzzy yet relaxed.
Our first problem came when we tried to order oysters to kick off the evening only to find that there were none left. So instead we moved onto starters of langoustine scampi (£12) and potted beef and bacon with two large Yorkshire puddings and onion gravy (£8.75), which were both excellent, even if they took a while to arrive.
I’d tried to order lamb for my main course only to find there was none left, while our choice of wine had also run out. But the main issue was that the steak and monkfish we ordered had not arrived almost an hour after we arrived. It transpired that they had been sent to another table. The staff couldn’t have been any nicer, and offered to scrub the price of our meal so far and let us come back for a free meal another time. Instead we took them up on their offer of cooking our mains as quicky as possible, which was the best part of another 20 minutes.
When the mains came the 350g rib-eye steak (£28) was superbly tender and the 200g monkfish grilled over charcoal (£17) totally flawless, although we were a little surprised that even the chips had to be ordered seperately, and paid for. It felt like the meter was spinning round so fast we might just take off, although in Hawksmoor’s defence as it was a Sunday night we could have opted for the Express Menu (two courses for £25, or three for £28), which offers great value.
By now it was getting late, but if a job’s worth doing... So we ordered pineapple and coconut pavlova (£7.50), only to find they had no pineapple left, and then discovered they also had no coconut ice cream. On coming to tell us, our waiter looked like he was losing the will to live. We knew how he felt. Still, the unfeasibly rich, gloopy sticky toffee pudding had almost magically restorative powers, while the Nuclear Banana Daiquiri (£11.50) was just what we needed by now and disappeared rapidly.
To be fair to them, our waiter and his manager could hardly have been more apologetic or more eager to make amends. Our meal was free and we’ve been invited back for another meal courtesy of the management. It could have been even worse for them but thankfully I had wisely taped Match of the Day or there may have been blood on the walls. Nevertheless, this was still one of the most gruelling dining ordeals I can remember.
I’m sure our experience is not universal; indeed I know it’s not because Michelin-starred chef Martin Wishart was a couple of tables down and pronounced himself more than pleased with his meal. So, like a glutton for punishment, I’ll probably give Hawksmoor one more chance to get it right. Only this time I’ll arrive early and bring a good book just in case.