Pink Olive, Edinburgh - Restaurants in Edinburgh | s1play.com

In the pink

Review published on 09/02/2009 © Sunday Herald

The south side of Edinburgh, around the university, is definitely the capital's most practically useful eating out zone. It's not all Michelin stars and fine dining like Leith, but it's dotted with good low-budget options like the café in the mosque, the stalwart Susie's vegetarian diner, the Nile Café and Kampong Ah Lee. It's an area with a good number of overseas students and these people aren't going to settle for bridies and Irn-Bru because they are accustomed to real food. Academics (now I do know they work hard and are never away from piles of marking) do their bit to support the local restaurant economy, too. At lunchtime the ever-excellent Kalpna can sometimes be mistaken for a departmental meeting.

I didn't set out to review Pink Olive. In fact, I stumbled across it on my way to try another restaurant nearby. Standing out from the familiar restaurant-land melée, Pink Olive looked bright and welcoming from outside and the menu instantly appealed, featuring ingredients that get me excited; oxtail, horseradish, parsnip, borlotti beans, elderflower and quince. The non-meat options - my current fancy - were not the usual token, over-priced suspects and the restaurant did three good courses for £18.95 in the evening. So I abandoned my well-researched plans to visit the original restaurant and went in.

I now realise that I took a chance. When Pink Olive opened last autumn, it promptly collected one prominent critical review. My reliably foodie mate who works round the corner was quite amazed when I gave her a favourable report on our meal because she had had a memorably bad one just after it opened. And here's the serendipity, even risk, that comes with every restaurant review. Restaurants change all the time. They lose chefs and get new ones. Any review is only a snapshot of a given establishment at a specific point in time. All I know is that when I left Pink Olive, I was very happy.

The restaurant was blissfully warm on yet another freezing, frosty night. Soft, squidgy, yeasty bread which seemed homemade arrived promptly along with olive oil for dunking. The starters were a little bit original. A crumbly parsnip mixture, dotted with fresh sage, only just held together in fragile fritters which went well with a nicely spiced fruit chutney, which again seemed home-made. More robust croquettes made with strands of oxtail and grated fresh horseradish worked well with sweet tomato relish, although a classic salsa verde would have been even better.

Thai crab and shrimp curry looked worryingly glutinous, but appeared to owe its thickness to crab meat and coconut milk. The description "shrimp" heralded small, fishy-flavoured crustaceans, most likely from the North Atlantic, not the usual taste-free lumps of fish-farmed protein that are tropical tiger prawns. A fragrant curry paste had been made from scratch, one that was positively vivacious with lemongrass and liberal amounts of kaffir lime leaf. The crunchy topping of roasted cashews added richness and made for agreeable texture contrasts with the curry and its steamy, white rice. The kitchen had taken a robust approach to the sea bream, serving this slightly oily fish on a stew of borlotti beans laced with herby black olives. A blob of cold crème fraiche loaded with herbs and lemon might sound like overkill, but it wasn't, lending a further layer of interest. Our side order of seasonal veg produced a bowl of January king cabbage, fried with loads of butter and sweetened up with leek.

My impression that this was high-calibre cooking was confirmed by very assured desserts. A lightly set elderflower jelly wobbled alongside a scarlet compote of apple and dark berries and a smooth vanilla ice-cream. Each component was accomplished; the refreshing jelly, the fragrant compote and the velvety, vanilla-beaned ice, and they came together to make a captivating whole. In fact ices - a category that rarely thrills me - are a huge strength here. I couldn't get enough of the fruity pina colada one made with pineapple, rum and coconut milk. The star anise one was round and subtle and the chocolate chip one showed up most others with that moniker.

Maybe Pink Olive has a new chef. Maybe it has taken a little while to get into its stride.

Maybe its initial critics got it wrong. One thing I do know, however, is that I liked what I had.