Osso, Peebles - Restaurants in Peebles | s1play.com

Thrills... and frills

Review published on 23/06/2008 © Sunday Herald

I'm always happy to visit Peebles. It's a congenial place: what a country town ought to be like but rarely is.

Much of its original architecture remains, the centre hasn't been killed off by pedestrianisation and naff shopping malls, and the vast majority of shops are independently-owned.

I love a browse around Villeneuve Wines, a knowledgeable, enthusiastic wine merchant with a list of some 2000 wines that puts any supermarket to shame. On the second Saturday of each month, you can catch the farmers' market; markets like these put a spring in the step of any small town.

Peebles also has a couple of interesting delicatessans, a book shop specialising in titles with a local theme, and family-owned shoe, clothes and interior design shops.

If retail isn't your bag, then you can take a stroll along the riverbank and select your own pretty picnic spot. On the cultural front, there's always something happening at the Eastgate theatre and arts centre.

No, I'm not on retainer with the Borders Tourist Board. I also have an ulterior foodie motive, tasting Ally McGrath's cuisine. His restaurant used to be tucked away upstairs above Villeneuve. He recently sold it and moved into a more visible high street location. His new establishment, called Osso, is kitted out with a contemporary urban vibe that steers clear of any county town cosiness.

McGrath has always championed local, seasonal food, "nose-to-tail" cooking utilisauthentic ing often overlooked "economy cuts" of meat and cheaper, more sustainable fish species. No change there. His prices were always moderate and continue to be so. A serious restaurant offering evening main courses at £10 and £11 these days is quite a find.

For me it had to be the East Lothian asparagus followed by the grey mullet. The former because I jump at any chance to eat fresh, Scottish asparagus, the latter, because grey (as opposed to red) mullet gets a bad press as a muddy-tasting fish that is deeply inferior to other prime white species, hence it remains cheap. I had to see what McGrath could do with it.

To be honest, I was ever so slightly underwhelmed by the asparagus. It came with an airy pea foam, a posse of morels, and runny-yolked duck egg. The problem was presentation. It was served in a shallow soup bowl so the spears had to be cut to fit in. Another consequence of this presentation decision was that the ratio of asparagus to egg was out of kilter: too much egg white and not enough asparagus.

The mullet was a triumph, though. I even think I could have sold it to my grandma, a staunch upholder of the Scottish prejudice that haddock is the only fish worth eating other than sole, that cod is an English abomination, and that whitebait and grey mullet are fit for the cat. The mullet was crisp-skinned, its flesh somewhere between sea bass and mackerel.

It was brilliantly partnered with a Spanish romesco sauce made from pulverised toasted almonds, red peppers and garlic. Romesco is a great sauce, yet this is the first time I've been served it in Britain. A small, barley-sized pasta moistened with a dressing of roasted peppers and sherry vinegar, perhaps, added another thoughtful presence.

Across the table, Carnivore Man, red in tooth and claw, was sinking his teeth into heavier offerings, a starter of black pudding, liver and crisp cured ham and a main course of slowcooked shin of beef served with a vibrant green watercress risotto. The commendably homemade mealy, spicy pudding came with a patiently prepared and soothing French soubise (onion sauce).

For me, McGrath is at his best when he sticks to traditional recipes and tried and tested combinations (like the brilliant romesco) and eschews any Heston Blumenthal-ish molecular gastronomy tendencies. Our desserts begged for simplification. Fiddly, cloying brown sugar mini-meringues were part of a clutter of irritatingly small components - a teaspoon of chopped strawberries, a few Dolly Mixture-sized cubes of fruit jelly.

A novel rendition of Spanish churros and chocolate didn't work. The Liliputian doughnuts were soggily underfried and detracted from a perfectly good chocolate mousse and foamy milk shake.

So much is so good at Osso, but maybe it's time to rethink the foams and fussy, overcerebral presentation.

© Sunday Herald