The Bonham Hotel, Edinburgh - Restaurants in Edinburgh | s1play.com

Brilliant bonhomie

Review published on 07/11/2007 © Sunday Herald

We all have an inner dialogue with ourselves when we decide what to choose from a menu. I mentally annotate every dish I see with thoughts, and arrive at my decision after a fair amount of pondering.

At Bonham, a tastefully swanky rendezvous beloved by the prosperous Edinburgh middle classes, there are just five each of starters and main courses, so that instantly refines the exercise.

Roasted scallops always sound good, but the now ubiquitous cauliflower puree accompaniment is turning into a cliche. Rib-eye steak was appealing, but "skirlie mash" to accompany sounded stomach-sinkingly heavy. I love the idea of a wild white fish with coco bean cassoulet, but the fish on offer was "organic" cod. I won't eat farmed fish, organic or otherwise, as it is the biggest environmental disaster to afflict the west coast of Scotland in living memory. Looking at the desserts on offer, I was curious to see how the chef roasts his figs. If I'm honest, I wanted to know if they tasted better than mine.

Then there's your mood. After a parsimonious week of invigorating exercise and waist-watching, I become an unbridled carnivore, red in tooth and claw, desperate to sink my teeth into a large chunk of animal flesh. Too heavy an eating week, and I'm behaving like a neurotic vegan, craving alfalfa sprouts and beetroot juice.

At the Bonham, I was feeling in a vegetarian mood which led me, for starters, to the organic watercress soup and nutmeg cream. Organic always sounds good, unless attached to the word "fish" that is, and watercress is one of those nutritional superfoods. Nutmeg makes me think of my holiday in the nutmeg capital of the Windward Isles, Grenada. For main course, it had to be the herb gnocchi, and I had to try the roasted ceps and walnut and truffle sauce that came with them.

And boy, did my selection come up trumps. The soup had lost none of the fresh greenness of the raw cress and I could almost feel the antioxidant vitamins charging around my bloodstream. The nutmeg lent a subtle warming spiciness to the tiny float of cream. The gnocchi were brilliant, crisply fried on the outside, quaking and yielding within, and lubricated by a thick, earthy sauce aromatised with shavings of fresh truffles and freshly fried ceps. Unlike so many veggie options, this dish was all skill and effort, not the customary lazy assembly job.

Not so veggie-minded that I couldn't check out the meat, I can report that the confit of rabbit terrine was glorious. A fair amount of tasty fat (possibly duck or goose) had been judiciously added to the potentially dry flesh, adding a further layer of flavour. The purple fig chutney that flanked it provided a fruity, sour-sweet foil.

Fine-flavoured loin of venison came with a more solid, less successful gnocchi, but its Jerusalem artichoke puree and sloe gin jus were spot-on.

You couldn't really grumble about the desserts – they were good by most standards – but I will grumble anyway. The lapses were in the conception, not the execution. The chocolate souffle, though perfectly pleasant, was not dark and intense enough to really showcase the celebrated Valrhona Guanaja (70% cocoa solids) chocolate that had been used. The odd alcoholsoaked griotte got in the way of the dark chocolate message too. A tarte tatin is always best made with apples, and a plum variant is riskier. If you go for plums, then a brandy or Armagnac ice cream makes a lot more sense than the jarring rum and raisin that was served.

As for the place, I think hushed is the word, although the vibe is not stuffy. What with its capacious New Town proportions, handsome fittings and modern decor that is sympathetic to its architectural character, the Bonham is one of Edinburgh's most attractive dining rooms. Some matters could be improved. The service is willing, but not quite sharp enough. The bread is poor. But given the high standard of cooking, the price is very reasonable, so you can cut the Bonham some slack.

© Sunday Herald