I wish I'd liked Bistro Coco more than this

Bistro Coco | National World

The new Bistro Coco caught my eye.

It looked so cute and fresh, with the gilded name written on the window and a spinach-green paint job.

After a quick Google, I discovered there was the promise of French food and that it’s owned by a couple who worked at this venue’s previous incarnation, Educated Flea. They’ve also inherited the chef from the former owner. 

Along with a vast a la carte, there’s a decent sounding pre-theatre dinner menu, at £26 for two or £32 for three courses. Count me in.

My enthusiasm was such that I even forgave them when, on arrival, they slotted us cheek to jowl with the only other diners, who were tightly squeezed into the window.

I get it, we are gorgeous mannequins and you need a bit of window dressing. 

However, we could hear all their chat, including a conversation that started with; “Oh no, I forgot to give the cat his tablet”. Poor Macavity.

After we’d dispatched two doughy black olive rolls and butter, I had cod brandade - an oversized mound of this mixture that was heavy on the potato and low on the cod, with none of the billed truffle, though there were fennel seeds on top. It was spliced by three crouton sails, and came with way too much of some intensely basil-y sauce and sprigs of lamb’s lettuce.

The tortellini starter was another strange one. For one thing, there were lots of feathery and jaggy salad leaves on top, which made it tricky to tame, and the rather thick-skinned green tortellini was very salty, with a feta and spinach filling. 

That’s okay, but it made for a bit of a clash with the equally sodium-heavy pesto, of which there was lots. The red pickled onion strands and wersh sunblush tomato contingent weren’t enough to lift those bully boy elements.

The main courses were equally busy and confusing.

I had a very gamey (but good) portion of venison haunch, which came with a couple of tiny cubes of dauphinoise, almond flakes and stacks of French beans.  I enjoyed it, though the table next to us had the same, and said the jus was a ‘bit salty’.

My other half had ordered the salmon confit, and I stole the skin, since it gives him the ick. 

He thinks I’m like a cat, in my love of piscine epidermis. I tell him it’s where all the omegas are, and I’m doing it for health reasons, but he is still revolted. 

Anyway, it was a crispy shard that crunched loudly, but was completely unseasoned, so my glee quickly dispersed. This dish also featured Israeli couscous, with peas, asparagus, and chorizo, and the fish had a strange oily orange crumb on top.

Confusion fusion, I think you’d call this. It was pleasant in parts, bland in others. The chopped asparagus was beautifully fresh, but the peas seemed a bit jaded.

The puddings were so-so.

We had the warm chocolate mousse, which turned out to be an unset frothy sauce in a ramekin.

Strange, but certainly not unpleasant, I spooned it down my throat.

Very oddly, it came with a pile of toasted coconut, a couple of mini mango coulis ice-lollies and a large and pleasingly salty bit of shortbread.

I guess the chocolate liquid was supposed to be used as a fondue. The table next to us worked that out. Somebody give them my job.

The Scottish strawberry tart option featured a thick and undulating shortcrust base, then a huge splurge of Chantilly cream, applied using the Bugsy Malone method. There was crushed pink peppercorn on top of the cream, macerated strawberries and a few nasturtium leaves. 

The zingy strawberry sorbet, which was placed in the middle of a frantic whorl of scarlet coulis and connected to the tart by a meringue shard, was easily the best thing on the plate.  It had also said ‘lavender’ on the menu, and I’m glad that was indetectable. There is such a thing as overkill, chef.

Anyway, I felt very confused by Bistro Coco. The food is a little OTT.

However, the couple beside us seemed keen.

It was their second visit and they - mostly - waxed lyrical about the place. 

I suppose you have to ask yourself if you trust me, or the sort of people who forget to give the cat his tablet.

Bistro Coco, 32b Broughton Street, Edinburgh (0131 556 8092, www.bistro-coco.co.uk)