The Courier & Advertiser (Perth and Perthshire Edition)
Jute delights, but Heron is just divine
Amusic industry friend from London came to visit last week, and I gave him some tips on where to eat in Dundee. When we met in the nicely louche bar of the Malmaison, I was keen to find out which of my suggestions had gone down best. Let’s face it, everyone likes to be a tour guide for their city, and I’d hoped at least one of my recommendations had hit the spot.
In the end it was quite a sobering moment because, after praising the Friday night curry at the excellent Dil’se, my friend ran through a list of disappointments ranging from the brunch place that didn’t do brunch, the restaurant which charged London prices for basic, unspectacular food and the cafe that was advertised online as being open but remained very firmly closed out in the real world.
When my friend and his wife reached this cafe they saw other customers pointing at the door saying: “I know this is it but it’s closed!”, which is a bit of a pain when you’ve trekked across town on a promise of confectionery nirvana.
No wonder trusted Dundee stalwarts like Fisher and Donaldson do so well. The day they close (pray it never happens) will be Dundee’s equivalent of the ravens leaving the Tower of London – although I could definitely cope with the fall of the Crown and the UK much easier than I could the lack of a fudge doughnut or a lemon swish on a miserable Monday.
It’s a standard excuse these days to say that problems leading to sudden closures are Brexit and Covid-related, and there is certainly
no escaping the fact that both man-made disasters have decimated the hospitality industry – and also raised prices.
But the truth is some of these hideous situations are worsened by a seeming disregard for the needs of customers – not least that we like to find a restaurant open when it’s advertised as being so.
It’s remarkable how hard it is to get basic information from some restaurant websites and social media pages, and how some establishments think a hastily scribbled note on a closed door can take the place of an online update.
When I look online for a restaurant I want to see four things: the menu, the address, the phone number and the opening hours.
I need to see this before wading through screeds of nonsense about how the restaurant got its name, how Michael the commis chef adapted the soup recipe from his granny or which design graduate designed the soap dispensers in the toilets.
Based solely on their food offerings and ambiance, my list of reliable places to have dinner in Dundee comprises just three spots – the peerless Tayberry (actually in Broughty Ferry), Franks for a decent bowl of pasta and Dil’se for a curry.
Had I not been trying to keep things concise, my list might also have included Collinsons (also in Broughty Ferry), Rama for good Thai food and Tailend for decent fish and chips.
That isn’t much for a city of Dundee’s size – and, in truth, some of the above probably wouldn’t even cut the mustard in other cities with a more vibrant dining scene and more competition.
While remaining intensely proud of some of what Dundee offers, I have to say that restaurant food isn’t the city’s main asset right now. In fact, Dundee not only lags behind obvious big hitters like Edinburgh and Glasgow, but also Aberdeen and much smaller cities like Perth. It pains me to be a negative Nellie about this, but it’s true.
However, there is one special restaurant in Dundee that feels metropolitan, energised, glamorous, modern and consistent – so much part of my life that when I compiled the recommendations for my friend I actually forgot to mention it. This oversight is all the more annoying because it was such a no-brainer to match Neil – urbane, hip, well-travelled and knowing – with Jute, the still fashionable restaurant within the perennial cool of the DCA.
Jute and DCA itself are the only places in Dundee where you feel the buzz of being alive as soon as you step through the door; when I moved back to Tayside after 40 years in London I can honestly say DCA was like a conduit between my frenzied old life and the more studied and focused dreams of my new one. As such, it was and remains a beacon of individuality in Dundee.
THE FOOD
The food at Jute comprises good, simple brasserie-type dishes, and there’s always something you want to eat. This time, we dined a few days after the introduction of their festive menu, so I chose three courses from that (£27.50).
I started with a pear, Strathdon blue cheese and walnut tart, served with celeriac and beetroot remoulade. The tart filling was well-balanced and moreish, which was a shame because the tart itself was too small, more of a canape size really. I’d suggest making it a little bigger and also this particular tart base was underbaked – but delicious, nonetheless.
David’s starter, from a notably good vegetarian selection, was sesame-spiced broccoli and cauliflower popcorn with mayo (£6.25), which he pronounced excellent.
His main course of honey piri-piri fried halloumi skewers with roast garlic aioli (£7.95) was good, hearty vegetarian fare. My braised featherblade of beef, fondant potato, red cabbage and grain mustard was just what you want on a freezing December night – the shoulder cut of beef braised down to a rich, unctuous, gelatinous stew which might only have been improved with a bit more gravy.
We shared a sticky toffee apple pudding with sauce Anglaise and vanilla ice cream, which we both felt was a bit claggy in texture, with the ice cream displaying a weird cloying elasticity.
THE VERDICT
Service was as brilliant as ever; I come
here often enough to know that our waiter, Will, would make an excellent maitre d’ in a more formal restaurant, and it’s a shame there aren’t more people of his calibre in Dundee.
The room – good lighting, exposed duct pipes and well-spaced tables – is effortlessly glamorous.
The total bill came to £63 including a bottle of wine, which is excellent value for reliably good food in this creative, buzzing room, so much a part of the fabric of new Dundee.
If Jute is casual brasserie dining, then a recent trip to Edinburgh revealed a wonderful new addition to the capital’s fine dining sector.
Heron opened in July in an attractive space overlooking the Water of Leith, and I can already say it joins my list of favourite Edinburgh restaurants: Timberyard, the Palmerston, Fhior and The Little Chartroom.
Heron is that remarkable thing – a fine dining restaurant that feels quietly confident enough to let the food speak for itself.
Lovely as the high-ceilinged room is, and amazing as the staff are, this isn’t about the overt showiness of some of Edinburgh’s more established names – here, the simple menu belies the consummate skill of chef/owners Tomás Gormley and Sam Yorke, whose pedigree stretches from Restaurant Andrew Fairlie at Gleneagles to the Lookout by Gardener’s Cottage in the capital.
THE FOOD
Everything we ate was ace, from the Cumbrae oyster with ponzu, cucumber and wasabi (£3) through the Belhaven crab tart with cucumber and fermented radish (£5), to the crispy ox tongue crumpet (£12) – an intense, decadent delight of crumpet, butter, ox tongue, red wine, rarebit, mizuna and pickled red onion. An absolute joy.
Even more earthy decadence was available in the form of autumn truffles, a pleasure I reluctantly decided to forego because each dish had been so elegantly crafted and balanced that I didn’t want the fecund carnality of the truffle to overwhelm.
My main course of partridge coated in a kombu, sage and pumpkin seed crumb (£27) was served with pumpkin puree, black garlic and a side dish – or, as the waiter charmingly described it, a satellite – of a brioche filled with partridge liver parfait, sprinkled with bacon and thyme.
And yes, it was absolutely as divine as it sounds – one of the best dishes I’ve eaten all year, in fact.
Talking of plates, it looked to me like many or perhaps all of the dishes from which we ate were made by that brilliant ceramicist Borja Moronta, whose work sells out as soon as it becomes available.
That a restaurant like Heron should care so much about aesthetics doesn’t surprise me – everything here is done exquisitely – but it was still a delight to see beautiful food presented with such care.
Wine pairings were brilliantly handled by general manager and sommelier Glen Montgomery.
Dessert, described on the menu as white chocolate, pistachio and blackcurrant (£9), was so much more than the sum of its parts and presented so elegantly it seemed somewhat destructive to break into it.
THE VERDICT
I loved this place and would heartily recommend it for your next trip to Edinburgh. The kind of food served here is just what I adore: brilliantly sourced seasonal ingredients, cooked with precision and presented so perfectly that you can only wonder at the skill and artistry at work here.
A recent report from Time Out magazine listed Leith as the 4th-coolest neighbourhood in the world. Whether
you agree with that or not, I have to say that Heron just made it a whole lot cooler.
It’s vital we all support local Tayside business, but next time you bemoan
Dundee dining, it’s worth remembering that the treat of Edinburgh’s wealth of world-class restaurants is just an hour away. Heron is most definitely one of the best. Dundee chefs – take note!
Jute Food ★★★★★ Service ★★★★★ Surroundings ★★★★★
★★★★★ ★★★★★ ★★★★★