Such is the global outlook of this country’s food scenes — a dashi poured here, a sprinkle of za’atar there — that to review a traditional French restaurant that’s been doing its thing since long before you could pick up preserved lemons at your local Tesco feels like a subversive act. At L’Escargot Bleu on Edinburgh’s equal parts chichi and foodie Broughton Street, the baguettes are sliced on an antique French dresser. There are vintage adverts for 19th-century fortified wines on the walls and the small open kitchen is framed by dangling copper pans. Everyone speaks French, even us self-conscious British monoglots who, as if by magic in such environs, suddenly find ourselves mumbling the petit peu of français from our schooldays. And the prix fixe — chalked, naturellement, on a blackboard — is brought to the table by one of the no-nonsense French servers (all women on the night I’m in) and set on its own bistro café chair as if it were a Parisian papillon spaniel presented for mutual appreciation. None of these are ironic touches. They are simply the hallmarks of classic French bistro dining.
Edinburgh, being a well-heeled European-to-its-bones city, has form when it comes to French cuisine. From the high-end Cafe St Honoré and La Garrigue to the rowdy bonhomie of Chez Jules and Petit Paris (not forgetting the municipal bustle of Le Bistrot in the French Embassy), there are many places to go for moules marinière and steak frites.
Shetland mussels and squid in a velvet crab bisque
EYMERIC CHAT-BON
According to a guest post on L’Escargot Bleu’s website, penned by one of its New Town regulars (who goes by the very New Town regular name of Barclay Price), the first use of “restaurant” in an Edinburgh newspaper, in 1828, was in reference to a French restaurant. The links between Edinburgh and France are as well established as steak tartare on small plates menus.
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L’Escargot Bleu opened in 2009; the creation of chef-patron Fred Berkmiller, from the Loire Valley, and his wife and maître d’, Betty. Both are still in their original roles. It’s the formidable, warm Betty who sets the prix fixe on the chair in front of us, insists on a glass of gamay to complement the steak tartare and praises us for our good strong appetites.
The restaurant opened in 2009
EYMERIC CHAT-BON
The munificent prix fixe — three courses for £65 — consists of all the right things: grilled snails, terrine with Armagnac, hake brandade, cockerel roulade, beef bourguignon. A vegan’s nightmare, true, but this is hearty, rustic French cooking we’re talking about. I was excessively excited about L’Escargot Bleu’s signature steak tartare, prepared at the table to the customer’s preferences. But tonight it’s made with rose veal (Pasture for Life-accredited veal, I should add, but even so — veal I cannot do). My dining companion, Anna, who lives nearby and feels genuine affection for L’Escargot Bleu, goes for the fish soup. For me? Tonight’s special of Shetland mussels and squid in a velvet crab bisque.
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The seafood is fresh and generous and the bisque silken as promised, even if more depth of flavour would be welcome. The terracotta-hued fish soup is more velveteen still, bearing a sheen of which most soups can only dream. It comes with a warning. The accompanying rouille — a Provençal sauce made by combining egg yolk and olive oil with breadcrumbs, garlic, saffron and cayenne pepper — is very garlicky indeed. So I spoon the entire bowl in. There’s also a dish of grated gruyère that results in a frankly outrageous amount of cheese-pull photo ops. What fun.
Beef bourguignon scattered with garniture grand-mère
EYMERIC CHAT-BON
Beef bourguignon is dished up at the table from a violently hot cast-iron dish. As soon as the lid is unclamped, the earthy scent arises of Dexter beef shoulder slow cooked with new potatoes and carrots, scattered with garniture grand-mère — a classic garnish of bacon, mushrooms, potatoes and onions. Anna says the beef could be more tender but this is the sort of homely cooking that, in the right circumstances, is precisely what you want from a restaurant. My organic shorthorn sirloin steak is also not as meltingly soft as I hoped but the pepper sauce, not creamy but dark, glossy and spiked with thinly sliced broad beans, is wonderful. The accompanying dauphinoise is superlative, flawless, all the words for perfect. A side of boiled veg is simple, seasonal, not trying to be anything but itself. Dessert is the best course of all: a rich dark ingot of chocolate nemesis and île flottante — a towering block of airily soft meringue in surrounds of impeccable crème anglaise, rained on by flaked almonds.
L’Escargot Bleu is aiming for 100 per cent self-sufficiency and has its own garden
L’Escargot Bleu was the first Pasture for Life-certified restaurant in the UK, meaning all its meat comes from farms where the animals are 100 per cent pasture fed. It’s also aiming for 100 per cent self-sufficiency and has its own garden, Monkton, on the outskirts of Edinburgh, where Fred grows the vegetables, herbs, salads and flowers supplying the restaurant, while 100 per cent of the restaurant’s food waste is used to make compost. These are impressive modern achievements that I suspect most don’t know about an institution as old school as L’Escargot Bleu. And the thing about institutions is we too easily forget about them, abandon them to the tourists while we chase the thrill of the new. L’Escargot Bleu is a joyous reminder of why we shouldn’t.
L’Escargot Bleu, 56 Broughton St, Edinburgh, lescargotbleu.co.uk
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