Restaurant review: The Mulroy, Edinburgh

TWO days after I dined at The Mulroy, I was one of half a dozen recipients of a round-robin e-mail from a foodie friend who had eaten at the new West End restaurant just the the day after me.

His missive was short and to the point: “[We] had dinner at a place called The Mulroy last night. Best grub I’ve probably had in Edinburgh. It helped that we were the only diners in the restaurant and had our own personal chef experience, but the food was knockout and the owner enjoyably eccentric.”

While the assertion that The Mulroy has the best food in Edinburgh was undoubtedly a little hyperbolic, there was no arguing with his general point that this unheralded and difficult-to-find little basement restaurant in William Street is a gem. The French-inspired food of head chef Damien Rolain – best known for serving horse tartare last year while in charge of the kitchen at L’Escargot Bleu – is the centrepiece, but the owner, to whom the place owes its existence, also makes for an entertaining diversion.

Clemens Hoss-d’Estenfeld is a rather pukka Hungarian toff who claims Romanov ancestry “three-times over”, hence the crown emblem on the menu. If this son of Mitteleuropa is the culinary drive behind the venture then Tishie Macdonald, his wife, has also made a huge contribution to The Mulroy. Not only did she provide the name (her family’s place in Lochaber includes the Mulroy, a small hill that was the scene of the last pitched clan battle, when in 1688 some angry Macdonalds of Keppoch and some equally irate Macintoshs settled a territorial dispute in time-honoured fashion), but as an interior designer she has produced an ochre-coloured space that is both formal and extremely inviting.

The Mulroy seems to have been started on a shoestring, with no formal opening, no website and no fanfare, at a time when the rest of the Edinburgh restaurant scene is steeling itself for another rocky ride on the double-dip rollercoaster. It’s impossible not to admire the chutzpah of opening a fine dining restaurant – with prices to match – in the teeth of what Mervyn King called the worst economic crisis of all time, but then it’s also impossible not to be impressed by the work ethic of the small team running the place. If it was empty on the Tuesday evening we visited, and on the following day when our pals followed in our wake, this seven-day operation was full on the Monday when most of its main city centre rivals were closed.

Ultimately, though, the place will stand or fall on the quality of its food. As an admirer of Rolain’s unapologetically gallic output while at L’Escargot Bleu, I was pleased to see that he has made the step up from bistro fare to top-drawer Auld Alliance tucker without any trouble.

I was, however, rather surprised to find that in the fusion of French and Scottish, it is the Scots that has clearly won out, albeit augmented by more than a few gallic flourishes. The result is a menu that skilfully manages to avoid the usual aspirational clichés beloved of new Scottish restaurants while also tantalising with glimpses of Provence and the Languedoc.

Our starters were a classic example of this, especially Vicky’s pigeon and foie gras pressed terrine, served with damson chutney and a rosemary-infused Provençale fougasse (a French version of foccacia). This was an absolutely stunning way to start her meal, with the succulent pigeon eclipsed by a foie gras of incredible smoothness and subtlety, a combination that was elevated yet further by the plumy acidity of the damson chutney.

I wasn’t quite as taken with my girolles and flat-leaf parsley risotto with black truffles, topped with a vividly orange-yolked poached egg. The locally picked girolles lent a beautifully rich and meaty flavour to the dish, but I couldn’t see any signs of black truffle and, much worse, there was far too much liquid in the bowl, turning what should have been a good starter into a quagmire of a dish.

Vicky was obviously feeling in a gamey mood, plumping for the roast saddle of French rabbit (apparently ours are too tough) with chive spelt risotto, broad beans, lardons and sage jus, while I chose the braised shoulder and roast rack of Scottish lamb with kidney brochette, carrot purée, chickpea croquette and oregano jus.

This time it was me who had the best of the deal. While Vicky was really happy with her undeniably tender helping of rabbit and the perfectly produced risotto, I was put off by the sweet edge to the sage jus, which I felt swamped the rabbit. My lamb three ways was unimpeachable though. Gorgeously succulent and with a deep, resonant flavour, this was cooking of the highest order and the undoubted high point of the meal.

We rounded off with two excellently executed, if hardly revolutionary, puddings. Vicky gave her dark chocolate tart with crème chantilly the thumbs up while I thought my simple braeburn apple tart tatin with cinnamon, served with home-made vanilla ice-cream and caramel butter, was as good as any dessert I’ve had recently.

All of which, it’s fair to say, provided a good deal of food for thought. Like our friends, we had stumbled across The Mulroy and had decided to give it a bash. In hindsight, though, next time we visit we’l consider turning up earlier and taking advantage of the keenly priced set menu, which runs to £11.50 for two courses, rather than wading in with the Goldcard you need to pay the à la carte prices.

Yet once inside we couldn’t help but be impressed by the surroundings, the service and, above all, the food. Word is clearly spreading, and if our friends’ reaction is any guide then The Mulroy stands a fighting chance of being here this time next year. In these difficult times, that’s about as good an accolade as any restaurant can hope for.

Reastaurant

The Mulroy, 11a-13a William Street, Edinburgh (0131-225 6061; www.facebook.com/#!/TheMulroy)

Bill please

Petit menu £11.50 for two courses Starters £6.50-£12 Mains £15.80-£21.50 Puddings £5.50-£6.50

Rating

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