Eat, sleep, be merry: the hotel-restaurant
Rhubarb Restaurant
Hotel-restaurants have to work that bit harder to win our custom. Offering an enclosed environment in which one can eat, sleep and drink to their hearts content without stepping foot outside, it is often hard to distinguish whether they are fully booked on the basis of merit or on the basis of proximity to bed and bath. Are the satiated looks coming from dining couples the result of a truly memorable culinary experience or the anticipation of an imminent bedroom liaison upstairs? We view with suspicion tables of six or more, wondering whether the jovial group have opted to spend a collective birthday/anniversary/promotion celebration in a memorable place or if in fact we are witnessing one of many conference groups getting a convenient night-time bite before tomorrow mornings meeting. There is also the prevailing sense that if an out-of-towner is to make a trip to the city and book himself into a hotel, the cultured and cosmopolitan thing to do would be to explore the area, seek out a restaurant and make a night of it. There is a genuine reluctance to restrict ones dining experience to the hotel building. As a result, such restaurants really have to offer something exquisite in order to both maintain the custom of its hotel clientele and entice outsiders into its secluded world.
With the exception of the infamous oriental offering at London’s Dorchester hotel, a large proportion of hotel-restaurants in the UK choose to play it safe with some sort of a hybrid European menu. Big players like Gordon Ramsey’s Claridges restaurant, the London Hilton’s Galvin, the Berkeley’s Petrus, The Ritz and, somewhat ironically, the Mandarin Oriental’s Foliage, all offer classic French/British fare with ‘innovative twists’ which cleverly obscure the fact that the same stock options appear on every menu. Starter choices cater for the staunch meat eaters with a terrine/pate/foie gras creation, the pescatarians with the unfailing scallops offering, the vegetarians with a cheesy tart and the slimmers with a fancy soup. Main meals follow the pattern of a safe meat (steak), a controversial meat (venison/game), a sea bass/halibut dish, a grilled or roasted chicken and a vegy option. Business savvy enough to make sure chocolate features at least once in the desert menu, the meal should end on a well presented but uncontroversial high. Far be it for me to deride what is essentially the product of great market research but one does have to question where the decision-making process comes in when privileging one hotel-restaurant over another.
Sampling some of the more infamous hotel-restaurants in Edinburgh, the selling point seems to privilege atmosphere, tone and service over food. Whilst it is unlikely that the menu will either shock or gravely disappoint, it is the duty of the restaurant to reflect the character of the hotel and, in doing so, reiterate the lifestyle choice associated with that sort of establishment. In the case of the glitzy Tigerlily, the restaurant is all about beakers of wine, mood lighting and ‘trendy-looking menus, extending the image of the Tigerlily franchise with every sexily lit booth. With the Prestonfield’s Rhubard the focus is on opulent reds, low and comfy antique chairs and separate pre-drinking living rooms, perpetuating the country house feel of the place. With the Bonham, the focus is on promoting the Townhouse company’s philosophy of classic Victorian style. Dining in the enclosed environment of a hotel-restaurant demands choosing the make-believe world you want to enter for the evening, getting into character and letting the hospitality masterminds work their PR magic.
Rhubarb
Nestled in a baroque building surrounded by extensive grounds and with an impressively dramatic driveway, the Prestonfield is clear about the tone it intends to set. With its lashings of rich rouge fabrics, its gilded detail, its antique furniture and its traditional art collection, the hotel manages to be both unashamedly opulent and really quite tasteful. A dining experience here is neither a casual nor quick matter. Rather than being seated on entrance, one is wafted upstairs to a pre-drinks destination, one of there many country house sitting rooms, and provided with drinks and a delectable selection of nibbles whilst musing the menu. Orders are taken from the comfort of the sofa and diners are encouraged to come down to the restaurant at their discretion. From this point on, having already been pandered to by two waiters, a third appears and dishes out the bread, freshly baked on the premises and with a sun-dried tomato offering that demands a second ‘try’. For starter, the langoustine and foie gras were both beautifully presented and appeasing, and for main, whilst the sea bass and fennel pesto was reasonably tasty, the pork belly and scallops was the only dish that met the level of the service and décor. Preventing the meal from being exceptional was the overenthusiastic salting, at times masking what were without a doubt good quality ingredients. Whilst the polenta desert was fresh and simple, it was only with its chocolate gateaux accompanied by an unbelievable caramel ice cream that the decadent vibe of the restaurant really came through. The problem at Rhubard is not the quality of the food. It is the fact that the service and surroundings raise the expectations to a level that would be very difficult for most dishes to meet. Whilst the experience itself leaves one feeling spoiled and very unwilling to reenter the grey world outside, the less than ethereal performance of the food makes re-integration into society that bit more manageable.
Tigerlily
The restaurant at Tigerlily is an obvious choice for those already acquainted with the adjacent swarming bar. Nestled in a table under a dark canapé, the dining experience is at once intimate and exposed, as boozed up diners can make the step from private meal to packed bar within seconds. The staff are exceptionally friendly and informal enough to counteract the tone that the prices set. With an atmosphere that seems to beg the customer to overindulge, the beakers of wine and the meat heavy menu appeal to a post-work crowd who crave a dining experience that will both satisfy and encourage to extend the night afterwards. Fitting the boutique-restaurant mould, the menu provides some stock and generously portioned options. With scallops on a parsnip puree, crab cakes and a foie gras terrine to start, and steak béarnaise, roasted lamb on sweet potato mash and corn fed chicken in Serrano ham for mains, the food plays it safe but appeals with rich flavours, hearty ingredients and appetising colour combinations. However, adding an air of informality that other hotel-restaurants lack, it is the sharing platters on the menu that appeal to the playful clientele. Whilst the Mediterranean and Mixed platters do exactly what they say on the menu, it is the concept of sharing desert platters that pushes the overexcited and, lets face it, a little tipsy diner to distraction. Without a doubt the triumph of the menu, the dessert plates offer either a marshmallow, fruit, cookie and profiterole fondue kit or a ‘Chocolate’ platter filled with a range of chocy deserts including a cheesecake and a variety of choc dipped fruits. Certainly the most fun of the dining options, the Tigerlily restaurant is a dangerous option for anyone who isn’t prepared to completely let themselves go.
The Bonham
The Bonham restaurant is by no means an exciting destination for those who expect an atmosphere of pomp and decadence. Its layout is simple and sharp, with polished wooden tables and floors, crisp white napkins, a spacious layout and good lighting. There is nothing overstated about the décor: it is just pleasantly perfect and symmetrical. Despite a very ‘proper’ tone, the staff are unintimidating to the point of the customer feeling completely at the mercy of his/her whims. No doubt the result of its ‘townhouse’ character, the general dining tone is neither overly exciting nor terribly exclusive. The setting neither impresses, nor offends; it has resigned itself to a sort of vanilla infallability. However, extending this bland perfectionism to the food results in a culinary triumph that surpasses its competitors. Anything but vanilla, the restaurant offers a similar menu to its competitors (scallops, rabbit terrine, sea bass, steak) but cooks it that bit better. With scallops that quite literally melt in the mouth and a rabbit ballotine that, due to its chill, let the blend of flavours play beautifully on the tongue, the food lives up to the two AA rosettes it has received. The steak was cooked to perfection and accompanied by an unusual sort of pesto which was bold and tangy. The grilled sea bass balanced a brilliantly crisped top with very tender flesh and sat on a bed of gnocci which, instead of a doughy texture, was almost puréed in the centre and firm on the outside: a sort of glorified, delicate croquette. The dessert, whilst not a stop stopper, was good enough and peaked with a home made rum and raisin icecream which accompanied the chocolate dish and could have quite easily stood on its own. At the close of the meal, the ethos of the Bonham becomes more clear. It doesn’t need to bother with excessive style and tactical furnishings: the food speaks for itself. Furthermore, whilst the prices match its high standard, the restaurant caters to lower budgets by offering a Boozy Snoozy deal at weekend lunchtimes. For £75 a table of four get a three course meal and two bottles of wine which, at less than £20 a head, is certainly a well guarded secret that should not remain so.
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