‘Ondine’ – 2 George IV Bridge, Edinburgh. EH1 1AD www.ondinerestaurant.co.uk
Representing the first stand-alone restaurant from Roy Brett, Scotland’s hotel chef of the year, massive care has gone into its construction. Moleskin lines the halls and private room, which has a porthole to the kitchen. Mosaics curl pillars beside the broad semi-circular bar. This is lit by cool LED lamps, meaning counter diners won’t spoil like dishes on a pass.
With grace and wit, a mural inspired by the ‘End of the Line’ documentary suggests a dystopian vision of a pillaged sea. From left to right, it opens cheerfully with scoffers cracking claws, but ends with sparse, murky shadows of fish floating around a wistful mermaid. This is the mythological Ondine, the beautiful nymph who sacrifices her immortality by falling in love with a human. Moved by a performance in Moscow, Brett’s best-friend suggested the restaurant took the ballet’s title, although only the reassurance of Sicilians convinced him. He said, ‘when I mentioned the idea whilst on holiday in Sicily, I received more kisses than ever before, which made-up my mind.’ The tableau also mirrors the influences on Brett’s life, including cooking contemporaries, Mark Hix and Rick Stein as well as Stein’s dog. It asks ‘but where’s Chalky’ of the Jack Russell, who died two years ago.
Served by staff in ‘St. John’-style jackets, my friend and I began with gougères puffs and ‘Innis & Gunn’, a rich, but crisp, butterscotch-scented Edinburgh ale, leisurely matured in ex-Bourbon casks. Beloved by Brett, he plans to build a rack for regulars’ tankards. Acutely fresh Cumbrian rock oysters stirred the appetite and glossed over the memory of our long drive from London.
The initial scent of my fish soup cauldron stirred with reassuringly spicy rouillé and decorated with brittle Gruyére croutons came from its Julienne oranges, with a multi-layered, sea-scented, paprika-pepped finish. My friend’s terrine fused foie gras and grouse. It was pinkish, moist, with a sturdy whiff of game and a softly yielding texture.
Served in its bowl-like shell, fibrous crab minus dead men’s fingers, was bound with fresh mayonnaise, spun with diced chives, and offered with thin, crisped, walnut toast. Despite its generous scale, it was compelling enough to ensure we fingered the last fishy goodness free.
Showing an Italian influence, notably tender gnocchetti was laden with clams, bathed in buttery pesto, and, like the crab, sprinkled with dried garlic crumbs. A pannier of tall, blonde frites baked to crispness in dripping looked like matchsticks. Let’s call them ‘match-chips’…
With such a supreme offering from Scotland’s cool, deep waters, so often marred by bureaucratic controversy, but gently handled by one of its most respected chefs, Ondine dazzled – another star in this city’s increasingly exciting culinary firmament. Add to that Brett’s elegant mantra of ‘belief, trust and belonging’ (however you choose to interpret it), the enviable location of George IV bridge, and hopefully you have a strong enough recipe to distract otherwise meandering critics from writing about themselves in favour of Roy Brett’s food.Open lunch and dinner, Tuesday-Saturday and Sunday lunch, 12pm-4pm