I returned to my favourite Edinburgh Michelin-star restaurant and it's still so enchanting
This place is still at the top of its game
In Denmark, they’re currently considering an initiative that allows gastronomy to be recognised as a fine art.
I thought it was a strange idea. After all, art isn’t supposed to have a practical use, and food is created to be eaten.
Anyway, whenever I visit the 12-year-old Timberyard - owned by the Radford family, who also now have Edinburgh’s Montrose and Haze - my stance shifts an inch.
That’s because it makes me feel things that I don’t often, at mealtimes, when I’m usually just thinking about filling my stomach. Inspired, yes, as well as challenged, enlightened and grounded. I can see why, under executive chef Bart Stratfold, who replaced James Murray of the new and fabulous Dogstar, they’ve retained their Michelin Star.
And, even better, I’d say, in these horrible final days of planet pillaging, they’ve bagged their first Michelin Green Star, which recognises their eco-friendly commitments and sustainable practices. There are only four of those awards in Scotland, so they’re as rare as hen’s teeth - a nose-to-tail ingredient that Timberyard would probably use, if they actually existed and were going to be wasted otherwise.
Anyway, I was happy to be back in the bubble. The space, which was once Lawson’s Timber, where we got our canvases made when I was an Edinburgh College of Art student, remains beautiful, with lighting like that in a Dutch master painting, and a yoga-studio-esque palo santo scent.
We were trying the £160pp lunchtime seven course tasting menu, with matching wines for an additional £130pp. Three hours passed in a blur of magical alchemic things.
Along with bouncy sourdough, made with a mother that’s now nearly 10 years old - happy birthday, mom - the bonus pre-dinner Snacks included a selection of melty Mangalitza coppa slices, and a vast glass pickle plate of their own preserves, with sticky beetroot and zesty carrots, tomatoes, capers, alliums and baby pine cones. You can eat these, with a view out to their preserving shed, which is situated in the courtyard and lined with uniformly organised jars and bottles.
The pheasant parfait morsels, served on a linen plinth and surrounded by wings - “don’t eat the feathers”, they said - was beautiful, with piped on baby pink goo, and a crackly rye biscuit underneath, plus a confetti of oats.
Course number one of the seven is a selection of Scottish shellfish. Served on ice, there was a halved langoustine, plus duos of prawns, mussels, clams, and cockles, and two huge oysters with a zesty yellow granita, all zinged up with various citrus fruits from an amazing conservation orchard called the Todoli Citrus Fundacio.
The next course was another fishy jewel - a burnished Barra scallop, as salty as crispy bacon, and served with a mixture of seaweed, including pepper dulse, plus a squid ink and roe sauce, and a frothy sabayon. Then, a dinky and feral bowl of mushrooms, including jelly ear and meaty king oysters that were sourced from Some Funguys, who work from the Cold War nuclear bunker, Barnton Bunker. This came with alliums, silky confit egg yolks, and some fingerprints of black truffle shaved on top.
Two more savoury courses to go, including a gorgeous brick of feathery light turbot with celeriac, foraged Alexanders and a horseradishy foam.
Then - my favourite - sika deer, with a peppery and orange espelette sauce, white coco beans, and a single sprout leaf, like a fan.
This is when the cheese trolley came round. As I find it hard to say no, I didn’t. Well, it’s only an additional £9 per cheese, so it might be easier to submit.
There was a choice of the classic Auld Reekie and a goat’s milk Ragstone, but we chose the Dhorlin - new to us and made in Campbeltown.
We have different needs. I like funk, he likes nutty and smooth. This satisfied us both. And the accessories!
“If God made Digestives,” was his comment on the amorphous oaty biscuits, and there were also sea-salted sourdough crackers, a quince jelly, tomato chutney and honey.
We were on the final straight with puddings. The first was a scoop of blood orange sorbet, which I’d say, for those over a certain age, was like being Tangoed, but in a classy way. Then, a forced Yorkshire rhubarb mixture, with meadowsweet creme pat, and toasty pollen sprinkles.
My mind was officially blown. When you’re restaurant reviewing, you eat an awful lot of the same things. It can get homogenous, but Timberyard continues to plough its own thoughtful furrow. Also, the matched natural wines were so incredible. Highlights were a beautiful Clemensbusch riesling, served in a traditional green-steemed glass, an incredible biodynamic dessert wine, Solaris Mistelle, and a demi-sec Andrew Beaufort Champagne.
But is it art? Well, I could be persuaded.
10 Lady Lawson Street, Edinburgh (0131 221 1222, www.timberyard.co)
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