The Michelin experience

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Family visits at university provide a much needed break from the drudgery of student dining. Such occasions remind us of the culinary world outside of the Heinz dynasty and the potato chip. They remind us that there really is such a thing as a free meal and when the opportunity strikes it would be idiotic to ignore it.

In Edinburgh there are some safe options which promise higher prices, haughtier waiters and heavenly backdrops to the eating experience. Olorroso, The Tower, The Witchery and Fishers are all safe and central restaurants which delight the rare student visitor largely because the restaurant is posh, the food is elaborate and the cheque is taken care of. The student population is seldom willing to waste valuable Facebook/YouTube time on checking out the large list of great restaurants in Edinburgh à propos of the parental visit. Perhaps its pretentious, perhaps it is a waste of time, but when you really do end up dining somewhere really special, the food snob in every one of us emerges.

An interest in the great chefs and restaurants around is exemplified by the nation’s preoccupation with the pursuits of Gordon Ramsy, Marco Pierre White and Jamie Oliver – celebrity figures who have magnified our interest in the art behind the necessity. Whilst Hesten Blumenthal has been alive and cooking since the mid nineties, only recently have both his 3 Michelin starred restaurant, The Fat Duck, and his molecular gastronomy become a necessary unit of our cultural capital, a nugget of information that people throw into conversation regardless as to whether they have been there or not. Blumenthal’s use of scientific implements and his bizarre repertoire—Bacon and Egg ice cream and snail porridge signature dishes—make the dining experience exciting, experimental and disorientating. You are witness to an obsessive, perfectionist treatment of food and forced to confront new tastes and textures. When the sociologist George Simmel wrote about the metropolis and modern life, he described the blasé attitude of many who, constantly consuming, purchasing and experiencing the indulgences of the urban space, rarely get the opportunity to encounter something new and be "shocked" back into an excited state of living. Taking things like expensive restaurants for granted, people cease to think about what they are eating and rather focus on the fact that eating in an expensive restaurant says something about the class of person you are. Certainly, London’s Ivy restaurant, patronised by footballers and WAGS, It-Girls and wannabees, is testament to modern society’s decision to celebrate "the image" rather than the culinary experience. In Edinburgh, the Tower and Witchery top their game for notoriety and bling factor.

However, at the highest Michelin starred end of dining, come the lesser known but truly sensational restaurants of Edinburgh. The Kitchin, Number One and Martin Wishart are triumphs which, whilst only a little pricier than the others, are fields ahead in their innovative approach to food. Surely then, since flashy dinners out are such a rarity during student life, why not offer your parents/date an exchange for their hard earned cash and take them to an Edinburgh hotspot that will leave them with something more than a much lighter wallet? For those of us on the cusp of graduation, why not make that last meal truly indulgent, exciting and far removed from four years of student drudgery?

Martin Wishart

There is nothing chilled out about Martin Wishart. With a sterile colour scheme, minimal art, charming, knowledgeable and presentable waiters, and crisp table linen, the restaurant does not seek to put you at your ease. Whilst the curved benches attached to some of the tables intend to offer comfort and the suggestion of relaxation, the hushed tones of the diners, the well lit room and the selection of every piece of cutlery imaginable all set a tone of professionalism, elegance and propriety. The blocks of swirled wallpaper are far from trendy and the crisp uniform of the waiters is flawless and old fashioned. But if the aesthetics of the room are severely lacking, the aesthetics of the food more than make up for this. Never have I felt such guilt for spoiling a plate, followed by such pleasure for having done so. Whilst the portion sizes are certainly not overly generous, the buffering of a selection of pre-meal canapés and post meal chocolate delights leaves you feeling satisfied but not gluttonous by the end of the meal. Whilst a three course dinner at £50 (without wine) is an extreme extravagance, the three course lunch menu at £22.50 is a more affordable, but equally enjoyable option.

Once orders have been taken, the diner is presented with two complimentary courses of canapés. The first individual tray of delights offered is an array of indistinguishable fancies. Everything is innovative and unlike anything one has every tried, from a beetroot and lollipop to a shot glass of crispy risotto rice and fondue, to a mini haggis bonbon and a jellified mushroom soup in soy sauce. The bitesize portions force you to focus on the taste and textures of the food. After this rather amusing course, we were presented with a soup bowl of salmon slices in a sea of light cream and salty foam. It was three teaspoons of heaven.

For the actual meal, the lunch menu offers two options for each course. We opted for the mosaique of foie gras, a complex and layered paté which was complimented by onion-infused bread and was generously portioned. For the main, we plumped for calves liver with shallots, mashed potatoes and an Armagnac jus. The liver was incredibly tender and rich without being too much. The simplicity of the potatoes balanced the strong meat and alcohol flavours perfectly. A real treat. For desert, the recognisable crème brulee was rethought, shaped into a sausage shaped roll, delicately crispy and garnished with sweet crunchy bits. Just when we started to rue the imminent close of the meal, the extensive cheese tray was rolled out. The chef had hand-chosen 60 cheeses from a selection of hundreds, thus the five on our plates were divine but ignited a desire to try them all. Accompanied by a delicious apricot bread slice and numerous crackers, this pushed us into the realm of fullness. When the coffee course signalled the end of the experience, the waiter brought out a tray of the most delicate chocolates I have seen. Cleverly sensing our student gluttony, he altered the designated three per person rule to a "free for all" so allowing us to try everything. A mini custard profiterole with a crunchy spike towering above it, jasmine and grand marnier infused chocolates, lemon and orange fudge and a mocha choc; all of the options were satisfying and a little unusual. We were genuinely gleaming from the experience by the end of the meal and—perhaps due to the wine consumed—happy, satiated and educated in the art of really fine dining.

With the cheapest wine at around £30 a bottle, Martin Wishart is certainly not the arena for a real piss-up. Neither does its questionable décor suggest a stylish hotspot or celebrity location. But such details are irrelevant. Eating there is a novelty, a new experience, an absolute treat. It is unlike the eateries one will have experienced in Edinburgh. It lives up to and surpasses its prices. Out in Leith, Martin Wishart offers a riverside dining experience which differs from the city centre restaurants, indeed, it’s numerous accolades, including the Michelin star, make official its superiority. What really matters to the eponymous chef Mr Wishart is the food. I can’t think of a better premise for a restaurant.

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