Restaurant review: Restaurant Martin Wishart

Published on Wednesday 11 March 2009 14:18

54 The Shore, Edinburgh (0131-553 3557) THE Bill Dinner for two, £120, excluding drinks

IS IT SAD TO BE ABLE TO recount the details of a meal you ate four years ago? Not sad in a boo-hoo-break-your-heart kind of way, but sad in that it suggests the interim has been so devoid of memorable experiences you still have room for dinner details from long ago.

If it is (and it hasn't been) then I am. Sad that is. And proudly so.

The last time I visited Restaurant Martin Wishart was in 2005. Not only can I remember every morsel I ate (a frothy langoustine cappuccino to prime the palate, followed by the best smoked salmon I've ever tasted – the home-smoked Wishart-branded fish you can buy in delis these days – then a duck main course, followed by coffee and petit fours), I can still feel the stab of disappointment that I couldn't squeeze in a dessert. I told you, sad.

People who have been subjected to my no-details-spared breakdown of the meal may struggle to believe it's only been four years, but it's no indictment of my conversational skills, it's a reflection of how good the experience was. So could a return visit live up to expectations? Would the tricks of memory mean that a second foray to the Michelin-starred mainstay would end in disappointment?

Don't worry, suspense isn't my style, I'll tell you right now: it was every bit as good. It may even have been better.

Wishart's cooking – refined, clever yet unpretentious, combining modern and traditional French methods – and the atmosphere he's created in this, his original restaurant (his new one, at Loch Lomond's Cameron House hotel, is now open) creates a near flawless dining experience. Wishart and his team of eight chefs create seriously good food for people who don't mind having their dinner conversation usurped by a succession of "mmms" and "aaahs" and "how do you think he did that?". For foodies, it's pure pleasure. The waiters will talk you through every aspect of a dish with care and attention, the sommelier (who chose a pricey, 60, but wonderful bottle of Chateau des Trois Chardons for us) will tell you not only about the wine in your glass but the back story of the bottle – ours included a vineyard sold off in slivers to pay tax which eventually left no vineyard at all. Quite a romp.

Almost as good as the amuse bouche – a celeriac and saffron veloute with shrimp served in a small shot glass. It wasn't just the texture and colour that was right (reassuringly thick and glowingly golden) or that the flavours flourished together, it's that it was served at a temperature (warm but not hot) that allowed us to eat it immediately, igniting our appetites for all that was to follow. Details, details, it all works.

We opted for the la carte menu – 60 for three courses – rather than the (impressive) taster menu. I began with langoustine ravioli served on a foie gras and truffle sauce and C had scallops on a Parmesan cream with grated truffle. I'm not ashamed to tell you that we both contemplated licking the plates of every trace of sauce (mine was silky, rich and delicate, C's was "divine"). The only thing that stopped us was the fear that the table of Edinburgh ladies seated to our left might disapprove.

Then it was duck for two for our main course. The crust of pain d'epices snared C, the homemade pear chutney did it for me. The duck was sweet and pink, the cinnamon and clove in the crust a perfect foil to the tender flavours. The tartness of the pear chutney restrained the sweet overtones of the dish and the accompanying roast seasonal vegetables (potatoes, carrots and parsnips) were reassuringly, and in a way, excitingly familiar. It's clear that every aspect of every plate that comes from Wishart's kitchen is lavished with attention, turning even roast tatties into event cooking.

A lot can change in four years and it's clear our appetites have, because despite the generous main course there wasn't a moment of hesitation about accepting the dessert menu. Choosing was the only difficulty. After a selection process more arduous than that we used for buying our flat (seriously), we ended up with a stalemate of three. Happily head waiter Steven Spear could help. With a bit of coaching, we established that the assiete of rhubarb was for me and for C it was to be the lemon delice. I'd like to say we were embarrassed when in return for what had plainly been our pained expressions as we deliberated, a taster portion of the pineapple dessert arrived, but we were no such thing. We devoured it – sticky, caramelised pineapple pieces, a rich, smooth lemongrass cream and a soft, sugary doughnut – the perfect preamble for our actual desserts.

It may have been the sugar rush, but my rhubarb concoction made me giddy with joy. Squares of rhubarb jelly dotted around a large square plate, a sugar tube filled with rhubarb mousse, pieces of poached rhubarb, a ball of ginger beer sorbet that fizzed on my tongue and a beautiful twist of rhubarb sugar. It looked so good even the ladies across the way admired it. C's choice hit the mark too – flaky, buttery pastry topped with a rich lemon cream. It must have been good because I don't think she spoke a word while eating it.

To be honest, this review could have been one word long rather than the 900-odd it is. Superlative. That covers Restaurant Martin Wishart. From the food to the service and back to the food once more, it's really, really good. For my money, there's no better restaurant in Edinburgh.