ST ANDREWS walks with a spring in its step.
Its permanent population (relatively affluent) is complemented by students during term time, and when they leave, in come tourists attracted by golf courses, historic architecture, and, of course, the royal romance of Wills and Kate. Instead of empty shops, think competition for leases. As for restaurants, judging by the sheer number of them, it's clear that a lot of eating out goes on in the East Neuk capital.
That said, although they spend money, neither students nor tourists have a good influence on local food culture. Students are looking for food that's cheap and filling, and there is a limited number of graduation lunches paid for by parents to go around all these restaurants. Tourists are only passing through, so there's little prospect of repeat business. This is why it's difficult to find food that's affordable and authentic in touristy cities like Venice. The tourist pound inflates restaurant income, not standards. But it's pretty obvious that East Neuk food culture is blossoming. Even its farm shops are a cut above the pack. Balgove Larder on the fringe of St Andrews - the place I have already reviewed that has a terrific steak barn in the more clement months - has a truly impressive meat counter. It sells its home-reared, well-cut, well-priced meat, and is staffed by proper butchers who can talk you through cuts. It's the first farm shop I have visited in Scotland that makes a good job of selling vegetables. When I dropped by, the selection, and the freshness, were stunning. I also hear good things about Ardross farm shop near Elie. It seems that the locavore sentiments nurtured by the pioneering Fife Diet project are a natural match for the bountiful East Neuk.
Wisely, The Adamson, in the heart of St Andrews, has plugged itself into this burgeoning local food economy. Its menu is "inspired by classic brasserie cooking with a contemporary twist and a strong seasonal influence", and in reading it you can sense a keenness to make intelligent use of the good foods that lie on its doorstep. Lobster, crab, mussels. Beetroot, chard, kale. Wood pigeon, beef, black pudding. Thoughtfulness drives the line-up. And that thinking drills down even to accompaniments. Sole comes with Jerusalem artichoke, kale, pine nuts and chestnut mushrooms. Cauliflower peeps out from the wantonly cheesy truffled macaroni.
Every dish at the Adamson turns out to be even more interesting than it sounds; so often in restaurants the opposite is the case. For instance, a starter of roasted carrot risotto was a delight, lively with fresh horseradish, rich with roasted hazelnut butter, garnished with longitudinal quarters of crunchy roasted purple carrot, and pretty with its flourish of foraged wood sorrel. And speaking as someone who voluntarily opts to eat healthily, the meal got off to a very good start for me with a bright "superfood" salad - beets, walnuts, roast pumpkin, quinoa, lentils and figs - that was full of contrasting textures: soft, crunchy, chewy, juicy, mealy.
The Adamson blade of beef had been cooked to that swooning, sticky, caramelised lusciousness that only a good chef using first-rate meat can achieve. I didn't go for its shallot tartlet. The puff pastry had that taste to it that I associate with bad trad Scottish bakers, and the shallots were too sugary, but its red wine gravy was glorious. And what was there not to like about a splendid piece of sparklingly fresh roast hake, sitting on firm Puy lentils braised with ham, and anointed with herb butter?
By way of dessert, the Adamson trifle (layers of spiced pear, walnut crumble and cream served with cinnamon sorbet), and a skilful coconut parfait, wrapped inside a fruity "cannelloni"-style wrapper with tiny cubes of pistachio cake and cardamom-scented pineapple, did not let the savoury side down.
The Adamson has that desirable buzz you only get in restaurants that are highly successful: chefs working at full tilt, and table after table of animated diners. Communication between the kitchen and front of house is seamless; the people who served us were charming. It's good to see a small-town restaurant that works so well.
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