I wish people wouldn't walk past this new Edinburgh restaurant, because it's a real hidden gem
This place deserves to be busier
As a mid-life woman, I know what it is to be invisible.
To be fair, I quite enjoy drifting through life while feeling like a ghost or a ninja. Sometimes, I imagine myself as a tumbleweed, bumping across the prairie.
Still, I feel the pain of the new Indian restaurant, Celestia, which has opened, just next door to Cardinal, in the tricky spot of Edinburgh’s Eyre Place, where New Chapter used to be.
This addition is probably the only Indian restaurant in the New Town. However, it’s just off the beaten path, and hasn’t quite attracted regulars yet.
I know this, because I pass by on the 36 bus quite often, and rarely see anyone inside.
Strange, as the owner, Mohammad Abbas’s other joint, Cilantro on Albert Place, is always hoaching, as was this restaurateur’s West Lothian place, Bo’ness Spice.
In fact, he says that it once had queues comparable to Edinburgh viral bakery, Lannan.
When he opened it six months ago, Abbas originally wanted to pitch Celestia as a fine-dining-style Indian restaurant, but has decided to go for something slightly more relaxed.
Still, the glowing ultraviolet marble-effect bar, metallic Victorian cornices, and North Sea coloured walls attest to the original fancy plans.
We’re the only table in for Sunday lunch and we go for the a la carte, though they also do a daily set two course lunch that’s £18.50 for vegetarian courses, or £20.95 for meat.
First up, is a gratis pile of bubble-surfaced poppadum shards, with three varieties, including a lentil flour based number that has a hit of spice.
The dips are so good, with a coral-coloured red pepper and mango number, a minty green and mild chutney, and a pot that contains marinated whole garlic cloves, which we happily scoop onto our crispy rafts.
When starters arrive, we share the palak patta chat (£9.75), which is aesthetically the perfect autumnal dish, as it features spinach leaves that have been deep fried in a toasty garam flour batter, until they’re a rusty sycamore-leaf-in-November colour. These are topped with crispy chaat, pomegranate seeds, rivulets of various chutneys, yogurt and other tasty nibbly bits.
There’s also the kasundi monkfish tikka (£12.50), with three large and silky pads of fish in a yogurty and mustardy sauce and various colourful gel flourishes, including a beetroot one.
“Do you need a break now?” says Abbas, as we finish our last bites and he checks in on us.
There are no bird-sized portions here, but we are soldiering on, and move straight onto a huge helping of chicken karahi (£15.95) that, with ingredients including tomato, garlic and ginger, feels vibrant yet wholesome, as if it’s going to stop the cold damp air outside from perforating one’s bones.
My dining partner focuses on that, and I’m into the chestnut-coloured gongura lamb mamsam (£18.95), which is mild, earthy and rich, but with piquancy from the sorrel.
We’ve also got carbs in the form of omelette and pea-laced special pilau rice (£4.95) and my favourite peshwari naan (£3.95) with its coconutty and almondy sweet centre.
While we sit at our window seat, and watch people passing by en route into the centre of town, I want to point at my plate and mouth the words, “YOU, could be eating this, too, so come in, for goodness sake,” but I preserve my dignity and make like a quiet tumbleweed.
I am pretty much ready to tap out now, and the bigger puddings, such as walnut chocolate balls or wild berry cheesecake seem a bit too ambitious for my diminishing appetite.
Still, a little kulfi (£8.95) seems manageable and we go for the mango, rather than pistachio. It’s gorgeous - fruity and pulpy, rather than overly sweet, and topped with chilli hoops.
That’s just the sugar rush we need to re-enter the world.
We leave the restaurant empty, bar one other table of two who appeared at about 2-ish.
I wonder if I should buy myself a placard, like the ones that you used to see people carry on Princes Street. They would always proclaim Golf Sale with an arrow on them.
Mine could say, “Great Indian food, so don’t just walk on by. Get inside. Get warm. Order the monkfish and the lamb. Leave space for kulfi.”
I’m going to need a big board.
18 Eyre Place, Edinburgh (0131-287 2914, www.celestiarestaurant.co.uk)