Carmelite Hotel Aberdeen
I always look forward to staying in Aberdeen, but finding a bed for the night is a problem. Demand for hotel rooms in the granite city outstrips supply: the city was recently named as the fourth most expensive place to stay in the UK.
So I was delighted to find the Carmelite, a smartly refurbished, moderately priced hotel of architectural interest, slap bang in the city centre, just off the historic area, known as the Green, that sits under the shadow of Union Street. At £75 for a double room with what turned out to be a jolly decent breakfast, I couldn't see any hitch.
I had no idea then that it was located in what police regard as the most crime-ridden beat in Scotland. I had discounted Aberdonian friends' tales of being propositioned around here by prostitutes, and overlooked the preponderance of exceedingly rough pubs in the vicinity. I had forgotten that Aberdeen is a working port of call for hard-bitten oil workers and fishermen who feel a pressing urge to blow a gasket when they get on dry land. Being a townie myself, I don't mind a bit of local colour and urban edginess. It is, after all, one of the essential characteristics of a proper city.
The Carmelite has a predictable, play-safe menu: pork belly, Mediterranean vegetables to shut up the moaning vegetarians, duck in Asianish manifestation, all the modern brasserie clichés like sun-blushed tomatoes, rocket and garlic flatbread, crème brulée and sticky toffee pudding.
But within these increasingly familiar limits, the Carmelite put in a creditable performance. A soup made from fresh tomatoes, properly seasoned and cooked down to concentrate their flavour, made a pleasantly home-spun starter. A salad featuring sweet, firm-fleshed, well-fried scallops, not the super-sized, water-soaked, bloated specimens you often get in middle range restaurants. Served with a mealy, peppery black pudding and lively cresslike "micro leaves", they were only let down by the over-lean, feeble-tasting bacon lardons.
A thick-cut sirloin steak, properly hung and big on flavour, was confidently criss-cross charred. Fish patties - a local twist on fish cakes - would have been more of a success if they hadn't resembled an overcooked soufflé served with an over-poached egg. Two prissy dribbles of Hollandaise sauce couldn't lubricate the dish. The same overly eggy firmness dogged a goat's cheese tart. A shame, because the pastry was crumbly and home-made and a perky baby spinach salad with chewy, meaty sun-dried tomatoes flanked it nicely.
More disappointingly, a chocolate bread-andbutter pudding was this time underpowered on the chocolate front, so it ended up tasting neither chocolatey nor custardy, just a bit strange.
I was pretty happy with the whole experience until I tried to drive my car away the next morning, only to find that it had been vandalised, along with every other car in the street. My subsequent dealings with Grampian Police have left me mightily impressed with their efforts and their effectiveness, positively admiring of what they have to deal with, now I understand what they are up against. Grampian police recently released disturbing CCTV footage, timed to coincide with a meeting of the licensing board, showing graphic scenes of street disorder in the city.
What a pity that the downtown area of a fine city like Aberdeen turns into the wild west, or rather, the wild east, at the weekend. Both residents and visitors deserve better.