Restaurant review: Mark Greenaway at No.12 Picardy Place (12 Picardy Place, Edinburgh

It puzzles me The environment is fittingly swanky yet relaxed, the location central, the service as knowledgeable as any I’ve encountered and the prices are within the bounds of decency. But most of all, the food is good, and getting better.

This was my third visit to Greenaway’s: the first was a casual lunch that whetted my appetite, the second was a corporate dinner that wowed all in attendance, and then this one, to review a restaurant at which just two other tables were occupied.

I feel that I know my way around the menu now and, rather than breeding contempt, familiarity has brought with it unexpected admiration, partly because Greenaway is such a gear change up from the previous chefs who’ve occupied this Picardy Place space, and partly because my previous experience of his work – at Room in One Devonshire Gardens – did not bode particularly well for this venture.

My preconceptions were perhaps unfair, as reports coming out of his previous two hotel restaurants, Kilcamb Lodge and Dryburgh Abbey, hinted at a chef who has found his feet.

Nowhere is Greenaway’s promise more amply demonstrated than in his signature dish, his Loch Fyne crab cannelloni starter. I’d had this before, and would have had it again had Lucy not got in first. It was, however, worth forgoing the pleasure to see her reactions: first puzzlement, then acceptance, and finally exuberant joy at the uniqueness and quality of the dish.

Greenaway likes to confound expectations, and his description of this dish is almost wilfully misleading. The ‘cannelloni’ is a drum of crab meat encased in herb butter and placed on a glass saucer on top of a glass bowl. Inside the bowl is the creamiest cauliflower custard I’ve ever tasted, crowned with small dabs of coriander, beetroot mayonnaise and a string of what are described as lemon pearls. These are miniature works of art: small interlinked caviar-sized gobbets made by combining lemon with carrageenan, then heating the liquid so it coagulates.

The main talking point of the dish, however, comes when you remove the glass saucer, at which point wisps of applewood smoke begin to escape. The smoke is no mere gimmick: by the time you encounter it, its taste has infused the cauliflower custard. If all of that sounds very Heston-lite, then I’m selling it short: this was confident, non- derivative and ambitious; a signature dish worthy of the name.

Lucy’s decision to annexe the cannelloni left me free to roam, and I chose the summer pea veloute with pea raviollo, chanterelles, crisp pancetta and summer truffle. Velveteen, unfussy and gorgeously nuanced, in its own quiet way this simple dish was almost as impressive as the crab.

Suitably perked up by outstanding starters, we awaited our main courses with interest. With an improbably extensive array of accompaniments that included lobster tortellini, fennel and dill puree, pumpkin, radish, purple mash and a ginger and spring onion broth, Lucy’s pan-roasted hake sounded like its subtle flavour could well be overpowered. Yet again, Greenaway demonstrated a sure touch, and while the ginger and fennel in particular were easy to pick out, the whole ensemble created a melodious dish that elicited an enthusiastic thumbs-up.

I lacked similar concerns about my roasted rump of Aberdeen Angus beef with potato terrine, roasted salsify, chanterelles and a red wine and truffle jus, and this more conventional combination of ingredients worked as well as expected. However, if a chef is going to be proscriptive and insist on serving the beef pink, as he did, rather than ask customers how they like their beef cooked, then it had better be perfect. This was rather less pink than I would have liked.

The commendable confidence that brought us the delicious crab cannelloni was again in evidence in Greenaway’s puddings. Lucy’s fantastically rich chocolate fondant, which came with a light white chocolate mousse, super creamy tonka bean ice cream, vanilla tuille and orange caviar, may sound like a disparate array of ingredients, but this was essentially a trio of puddings which had an effortless coherence.

The same was not true of my pudding, the aptly-named broken lemon tart. We all have our little bêtes noire, and while some people fulminate at foam and others become irate at the first whiff of truffle oil, I harbour a special animus for the sort of deconstructed puddings in which Greenaway specialises.

However, that said, my broken lemon tart – which consisted of yuzu parfait, frozen shortbread, pistachio puree, compact watermelon and coconut jelly – almost passed muster thanks in particular to the citrus blast from the parfait, but I still believe that you go to a restaurant so the cook can assemble the ingredients for you. Lucy did have a taste though, and thought it was excellent.

And that was our verdict on a meal which rarely disappointed and was never dull. In fact, it was very difficult to find fault with our surroundings or the food. Which surely must beg the question: what exactly is everybody waiting for? n

Bill please

Starters: £7-£11. Main courses: £16-£28. Puddings: £7.50 (cheese £9). Tastings menu £65.50 (with paired wines £90.50).