I've been a restaurant reviewer for 19 years: the best places aren't just about food
There is more to a restaurant than what’s on the menu
The Scottish Design Awards are coming up, with the results announced on June 24.
I’m rooting for the Edinburgh restaurants that have made it to the Interior Design category.
They are the brand new Brown’s of Leith, The Caley Listening Bar and Japanese restaurant Nishiki.
They’re all bobby-dazzlers, especially Brown’s of Leith, which was once steelworks George Brown & Sons. The Leith-based architecture studio GRAS have managed to make a potentially chilly monument to industry feel like a buzzy and appealing home for foodie residents Haze, ShrimpWreck and Civerinos.
I love Nishiki, and its pale wood communal table, with hues that are in total contrast to the traffic-fume-stained Morrison Street location.
And The Caley Listening Bar makes you feel like you’re a robusto in your padded box.
Anyway, it’s got me thinking about restaurant interiors, and what I love, because eating out is so much more than just food.
It’s changed in recent years. I feel like I’m a bit done with Scandi, or Japandi, or whatever other minimalist aesthetic has been in fashion for the last decade or so.
I’ve been to so many restaurants with white walls, and they’ve blended into one.
Perhaps I’m cleaving to comfort, while the world is burning. I think this might be my maximalist era. Now that my achilles are shot, my scoliosis is as twisty as fusilli, and my discs are as dehydrated as salt cod, I do like a heavily padded seat. I feel that restaurants should start to offer beds or at least recliners, where you can be tucked in, and fed by hand, but that might be asking too much.
My heart sinks whenever I have to sit on a high bar stool, especially if there’s nowhere to rest my feet. And, having to turn my neck to talk to someone at an awkward angle for an entire meal, always gives me the ick and a crick.
Mind you, I did eat at Brett in Glasgow recently, and they’re an exception. The emerald green high seats, which surround the open kitchen, were well upholstered and they actually swivelled.
I do love the chocolate box theatricality of somewhere like five-star hotel Prestonfield and Number One at The Balmoral is worth getting dressed up for, but my favourite Edinburgh restaurant interior is probably that of Cafe St Honore, with its antique mirrors, checkered floor and French bistro vibes. You feel transported to gay Paree.
I’m also a fan of the capital’s new addition, Whirlybird, for its glorious vanilla and cherry coloured interior design across three floors of a Victoria Street building.
It’s like a very subtle version of the ketchup and mustard theory. Apparently, food marketeers use the shades red and yellow, because red stimulates excitement and appetite, and yellow has positive vibes. .Just see all the fast food joints, from Pepe’s Piri Piri to McDonald's, to witness that in action.
When it comes to smarter restaurants, I do love a bit of people watching, so window seats are good. However, I don’t particularly like those same folk nebbing back at me, while I shovel a forkful of grub into my gaping maw, so maybe not. I like to be close enough that you can catch some of other diners’ conversations, but I get irritated when you’re too clumped together, and, when you leave, you have to squeeze out and accidentally twerk your bum/crotch against their table.
Then there’s the curse of the wobbly table, which has followed me around for years. Just tell yourself it’s lucky, and acceptance will follow.
Also, good toilets are so underrated. A manky loo is going to kill anyone’s appetite.
For solo diners, and in more casual places, I demand that there’s somewhere in the facilities to hang your handbag. That’s because some of us feel squeamish about putting our bags down on a lavvy floor, to soak up whatever germs are lurking there.
Also, clear signposting is good. We need all the help we can get. Recently, while at Edinburgh pub Joseph Pearce, I went to the loo after a couple of large white wines and attempted to enter a cleaning cupboard. There were many witnesses. It was mortifying.
Even basic facilities in a lovely restaurant can break the spell. In fact, I think next year the Scottish Design Awards should have a lavatory category.
Recently, I visited Stockbridge restaurant Avery and it has the best ones. They’re candlelit and cosy, there is Aesop hand wash - always the sign of a discerning business - and it features two WCs that are separated by a low divider, in a primary-school style.
Don’t worry, you can lock the main door.I guess the idea is that you can take your pal or beloved in, and continue the conversation. It’s not something I would ever want to do in my wildest dreams, but the concept is cute.
I’m also a big fan of the toilets at another of Edinburgh’s Michelin-starred restaurants, Timberyard. Down the original metal staircase, they’re like a meditative art installation, with a piped in ambient dripping sound. Gleneagles Townhouse has some beauties too. They even have individual cotton hand towels to dry your paws on. That’s the ultimate mark of a fancy-pants lavatory.
Anyway, good luck to the nominees in this year’s awards.
I shall start petitioning for next year’s event to feature a lavatory of the year category.
Comments
Want to join the conversation? Please or to comment on this article.