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The Roost

The Roost

Forgandenny Road, Kintillo,
Bridge of Earn,
PH29AZ

01738 812111

Price Rating: 2

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Reviews

Joanna Blythman

Review published on 06/04/2009 © Sunday Herald

We are in the “hungry gap”, that lean time in the vegetable calendar when we have had quite enough of the sturdy roots and brassicas that took us through winter, but early summer seasonal treats such as broad beans and asparagus still seem far off.

Since Christmas, the perfume of hyacinths in the hall has helped me cope with winter gloom. Now there’s another uplifting scent of spring to take me outdoors into chilly woods still waking up from winter: wild garlic.

Most people don’t spot wild garlic, also known as ransoms, or Stinking Nanny, but it grows so commonly and prolifically that its pungent garlicky aroma perfumes vast expanses of woodland, both urban and rural. The leaves appear almost overnight, around the same time as their natural partners, nettles, but we largely ignore both as we drive past en route to the supermarket to buy expensive spinach imported from Spain. Yet wild garlic delivers that hit of “greenness” we crave by this time of year; and it is free.

Some more switched-on chefs, like the capable Tim Dover, at The Roost Restaurant in Perthshire, see its potential. I fell on his wild garlic and nettle soup like a pirate with scurvy. It had that gentle fragrance and intoxicating garlickyness that you get in the first juicy bulbs, supported by the green bulk of the nettles and a robust stock. It was served with Dover’s home-baked granary bread, and it is hard to think of a more appropriate or more heartening dish for the season.

The cooking at The Roost is rather good. It comes as no surprise that a stint at the Peat Inn under David Wilson features on Dover’s impressive CV. There is that emphasis on ingredient quality combined with the confidence to keep a dish simple. So no clever-dick technique was applied to the starter of potted wild rabbit; it was just a nicely made, well-seasoned classic, served with a mellow, fondant red onion marmalade and nutty walnut bread, sliced thinly and toasted to make crunchy crostinis.

I am wary of fish dishes involving cream. So often the lightness of the former is lost in the richness of the latter. But the creamy sauce that came with the generous portion of Shetland halibut, on a mildly herby bed of crushed haricot beans, had been cut with wine and spiked with chives, so the dish stayed light. I could do without the long-haul green beans and would have loved more of the silky-soft roasted fennel, a sensible European import to complement our native winter repertoire. Other dishes came with exciting seasonal choices, such as beetroot and purple sprouting broccoli.

I’m going back to the drawing board with my recipe for daube of beef after tasting Dover’s. Moist within, it worked well with its lively horseradish mash and roasted celery. Also on the plate were rosy-centred slices of chargrilled skirt steak. This under-used cut, also known as hanger steak or onglet, is cheaper than other steaks, slightly scrappy to look at, but famed for its flavour, hence its reputation as a butcher’s secret (the steak the butcher keeps for himself). The skirt was full of taste but, call it a knee-jerk reaction, I wanted to eat it with chips, not mash. Chefs adore the whole beef/pork/lamb served two/three ways thing, but too often this is gilding the lily. I’d rather have just one element, beautifully done and served with accompaniments that really set it off.

Mr Dover is no slouch in the pastry department. His pear frangipane tart captured the gooey moistness of ground almonds yet remained airy. A fragrant lemon verbena ice cream elevated it to a higher plain. I have been known to say that crème brulée is never improved by non-traditional additions. I recant. His version, shot through with bold, fresh root ginger, was exquisite. Ditto his caramel ice cream. With its molten flavour and restrained sugar it possessed an adult sophistication that made the likes of Ben and Jerry look like pimply teenagers.

As yet, The Roost looks like a promising country café, but with food like this, it can expect to become a fixture on Scotland’s culinary map.