Mark of true genius

Sunday 8 May 2011

I was wrong about Mark Greenaway at Edinburgh's Hawke and Hunter.

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Restaurant review By Joanna Blythman

I had got the impression that he was a molecular gastronomist, in the style of Heston Blumenthal – not the sort of food that lights me up. Consequently, I had assumed, from a quick glance at the menu, that his approach would be one that subordinates taste to appearance. Always keen to find places that I’m going to like, I hadn’t rushed along when the restaurant opened in February.

Now I’m making up for lost time. I made a repeat visit to his restaurant, not because Sunday Herald business demands it, but just because I really fancied eating there. Given the calibre of the cooking, the further attraction is that it’s extremely keenly priced. Put it this way, you’ll commonly pay £6.95 for a sticky toffee pudding that a first year secondary school pupil could make in home economics, using 50p worth of ingredients. At Greenaway’s, for £7.50, you get cutting edge professional cooking with classy, expensive ingredients. Judge for yourself which offers the best value.I can’t talk you through the ins and outs of every dish because there are so many facets to them. Take, for instance, the Loch Fyne crab “cannelloni”. It looked beautiful, and quite mysterious. The “cannelloni” – actually a paper-thin, chilled herb butter rolled round lemony crab meat – sat on a glass saucer covering a glass bowl. When you lifted it, it emitted a puff of applewood smoke. When the mists cleared, they revealed a smooth custard made from lightly roasted cauliflower, jewel-like lemon pearls and baby coriander leaves. If this sounds like overkill, believe me, it wasn’t. Each flavour and texture contributed to one astonishing, impressive whole. No smoke and mirrors here. This was a dish that delivered on all fronts; and a steal, at £7.A melting terrine of rare breed pork cheek showcased sweet, mauve, lard-soft shallots, gorgeous enough to eat on their own. A square of deeply fruity mulled wine jelly, a tangle of toasty hazelnut salad, a dab of carrot mayonnaise and a shard of brittle toast made what could have been a rustic dish positively exquisite.I rarely eat chicken in restaurants. I refuse to eat meat from miserable birds – it has to be free-range as a minimum. Mark Greenaway’s birds fit the bill: free range and mature, 13 weeks at slaughter. Leg and thigh had been cooked like a confit so the flesh fell off the bone. The breast was still succulent because it had been roasted on the bone and its golden, crisp skin was a joy. Gravy made with pan juices, confit garlic, mini fondant potatoes, and fabulous onion rings crisped under a heat lamp, added more masterly touches.I’d defy anyone to produce a crisper crackling than you get on Greenaway’s 11-hour slow roasted pork belly. Its toffee apple jus was accomplished, the mash it came with dreamy. It was made, I guess, with roasted jacket potatoes or similar and wanton amounts of butter, because the potato flavour was nutty, almost intense.It’s just as well he doesn’t do takeaways or I’d be in there all the time for his “jam jar” rhubarb dessert, a nursery pudding made elegant. In the jar you have layers of eggy, vanilla bean-stippled custard, sharp jelly made from outdoor rhubarb, and warm rice pudding, under a collar of dried rhubarb that supports a puff of tangy rhubarb fool. And if your eyes aren’t already popping, a quenelle of rhubarb ice cream sits on the lid, almost as an afterthought. So much work here, yet this dish costs £6.50.Broken lemon tart, with its sharp, bright, fruit burst and buttery-browned, crumbly pastry, was flanked by a zingy parfait made from yuzu (a lime-like citrus fruit), mellow pistachio puree and coconut jelly. I just wish there had been more of it, and I’d lose its cubes of frozen watermelon.Mark Greenaway’s food is a knock-out, and the place manages to be simultaneously easy to be in, yet plush and a little bit sexy. Front of house runs seamlessly. Just goes to show, always challenge your prejudices.

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Mark of true genius

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