Clive Ramsay Deli, Bridge of Allan - Restaurants in Bridge of Allan | s1play.com

Deli Delight

Review published on 13/06/2005 © Sunday Herald

I had never heard the phrase ‘deli day’ until introduced to it by a friend. As in: 'How are you?' Response: 'I’m having a deli day.' It refers to one of those days where you realise how much you hate your job and dream about a radical switch. In my friend’s case, opening a delicatessen. Just imagine. You can play at shops and, quite literally, immerse yourself in food, poring over lists of fantastic treats to create an Aladdin’s Cave for fellow food lovers.

Until recently, I poured cold water on this idea. Being someone who had once acted on the deli day dream, I urged caution. Running a food shop does bring the possibility of glorious food encounters. The pleasure, for example, of taking receipt of a huge wheel of lovingly matured cheese, unwrapping its mummy-like bandages and splicing open its innards to taste that first creamy-fresh mouthful. I would also have warned it’s a tough life running an independent shop in a retail world devastated by supermarkets.

In the last couple of years, however, I have sensed a progressive wind of change on the food shopping front. More people are discovering how mind-numbing and spirit-crushing supermarket food shopping is and are acting on their latent emotional desire for a different sort of experience. Along with farmers’ markets and home delivery schemes, independent shops that have moved with the times and built a creative alternative to the supermarket are going from strength to strength.

You can see this principle in operation at Bridge of Allan, where Clive Ramsay’s is a vibrant concern and lynchpin of the local commercial scene. Visiting on a rainy Saturday gave an indication of the popularity of Mr Ramsay’s deli/café operation. Arriving in the shop at 12.30pm, the queue for the till was about seven customers long. Returning at 2.30pm after retreating into the café for lunch, it was just the same. This is not an indication of inefficiency, but the success of this whole enterprise. In the café, every table was either reserved or occupied as soon as it became free.

The word ‘café’ doesn’t do it justice. You can eat a major meal here, but Mr Ramsay has been astute in making the catering side of the operation casual and flexible. You could just have tea and a scone, but if you want to go further, you won’t be disappointed. This is an intelligently planned menu which does not demand too much of the cook. Much of it comes down to good buying, the assembly of well-sourced ingredients you would find in the shop. One of our starters was simply Stilton and pear paté (made by the award-winning Patchwork Company) served with grapes and toasted brioche. Where it ventures further, my impression is of sound, unflashy home cooking. Wild mushroom and thyme soup was thick, filling and alive with the aroma of ceps.

My steak sandwich was a perfect example of its kind. For once, I ordered rare and got rare. The beef was pink, tender and adeptly seared to give it that assertive char-grill character . It was sandwiched between thin slices of noticeably good white organic bread spread with an obviously home-made, gentle onion relish. It came with wonderfully crusty fried potato halves in their jackets and a salad of nice green leaves. Every element carefully selected and the whole dish well thought out, but it only cost £7.95.

Our other main course consisted of melting pot-roast beef from Highland cattle in a sticky-sweet oriental glaze with cubes of roasted carrot, parsnip and swede. Again, a snip at £8.25. The kitchen’s own desserts pleased in the form of a suitably wobbly pannacotta and an almondy lemon tart, the latter less rich than the usual custardy type.

Clive Ramsay certainly seems to have hit on a winning formula, one that is also sustainable. Deli dreamers please take note.