Restaurant review: Origano, Leith Walk, Edinburgh

Also, in reference to this thoroughfare’s most recent Italian addition, there may now be a little bit of Origano (sic) in the mix.

Sounds tasty, but I can’t say I was THAT thrilled about visiting this place, which is more than halfway down The Walk, way past its obvious rivals, Vittoria’s and La Favorita.

It looks unprepossessing from the outside, sandwiched between Leith Walk Fruits and a Polish bakery, and its steel shutters had been blinkered tightly shut on the earlier occasions I’d passed by.

Inside, however, it’s rather lovely, in a trendy front-room kind of way. There are milk-coloured walls, lots of wood (the furniture, the ceiling), soul on the stereo, and quirky charcoal sketches of elderly Italian gents.

It’s a Sunday afternoon sort of venue, which meant that my dining partners, Rolf and Louisa, and I had dropped by at just the right time.

The menu features all the old castagne (chestnuts) – lasagne, pizza, tiramisu, bruschetta etc.

We decided to share the pepperonata version (£3.75) of the latter, as well as one of the antipasti platters that were chalked onto a blackboard. There are meat or veggie versions of these, but we went for the mixed (all are £5.95 for small, £9.25 for large).

This was presented on a wooden block, and included – wait for it – baby mozzarella, cherry and sunblush tomatoes, mixed cured meats, rocket and grana padano, marinated olives, warm ciabatta, plus garlic butter and red pesto dips. Taking the cost into account, I can’t fault this offering. There were folds of decent proscuitto, bresaola and salami, plus blooms of good quality creamy white cheese, sweet green and black olives and a simply dressed salad.

It’s rare that three fatties are spoilt and stuffed for under a tenner, but that’s what happened.

So our toasty bruschetta, poor thing, seemed a bit surplus to requirements, with its topping of soft red pepper, rocket leaves, shards of nutty grana padano and sweet balsamic syrup.

When it came to mains, two of us had dibs on pizza. I fancied the Milano variety (£8.65) with a relatively demure 11in diameter, while Louisa went for the eyes-too-big 14in Spinachio (£9.55).

As anticipated, her option was the size of a Humvee’s hubcap, with a topping of spinach, mozzarella, and, bang in the eye of the storm, a hard-poached orange-yolked egg. They also hadn’t been shy with the garlic addition, but there could have been more of the gorgonzola that had been billed. Satisfying though.

So was my Frisbee-sized version, which was also spiked with oodles of garlic, as well as pepperoni and salami nibs, whose oily, salty spiciness was lifted by a sprinkling of fresh parsley.

Both of our pizzas had non-soggy bases, with a compulsively crisp-chewy texture and gently puffy edges. I ate all my crust, so will soon have as much hair on my chest as Tom Selleck.

For his main, Rolf had chosen a bowlful of magnolia-hued carbonara (£8.15), which was eggy, rich and creamy, with plenty of pink pancetta chunks (and yet more ciabatta on the side). His only gripe, then, was that the pasta had been overcooked, so the spaghetti dissolved into smaller worms with the twirl of a fork.

Aside from the ice-cream (£2.85), there are only three pudding options on the menu – tiramisu (£4.25), chocolate cake (£4.10) and banoffee pie (£4.10).

Not the most scintillating choices, but we bagged one of each. All were prime examples of their species. The cake was a light sponge sandwich, with a thick layer of sticky icing; the pie was super-sweet, with buttery biscuit on its bottom and a densely-packed layer of milk-tinged cream on the top; while the tiramisu was a brick of cocoa-dusted calorific goo, which was oozing with marsala wine.

I’d say that, if Origano was a pizza, it’d probably be a margherita – predictable and unoriginal, maybe, but a reliable, comforting and quality crowd-pleaser, most definitely.