Lunch Quest: Edinburgh

Cafe Domenico's

Even though Miriam and I only started this blog yesterday, we have been eating lunch for some time. In my case, for at least as long as I can remember, and as far as I am aware Miriam can tell a similar story.

For the past five years, I've mainly been eating lunch at Domenico's in Leith, and over the past few months, Miriam and I have eaten there on four or five occasions.

So, when starting on this quest, one of our first considerations was "what do we do about Domenico's?" Well, I've just been mowing the grass in my garden and during that joyous process I hit upon an idea.

Well, maybe I should start from a bit before that...

Domenico's is currently my favourite place to eat lunch in Edinburgh. The little family-run Italian is a perfect jewel set in the starry sky of Leith's restaurant district.

For years, the major motivating factor for me deigning to pitch-up at work has been the thought that come noon I could head over to the hallowed little place and avail myself of their unparalleled delights. The selection of produce from their sandwich counter is truly spectacular. Will today be a chorizo, goat's cheese, mushroom and pesto rosso day, or will it be pastrami, brie, sundried tomatoes, and truffle pesto? But wait a minute - I really like the look of that homemade pate, maybe with some grilled vegetables - yes, the aubergine, courgettes and peppers, please ;-) The taste and flavour combinations are only limited by your ambition and imagination.

And then we come to their sit-in lunches. More often than not, a simple plate of pasta is the order of the day. The range is ever changing, with a few favourites anchoring things. Specials provide you with further temptation - Nicola's alla Parmegiana, the other day, was simply the best I've ever eaten.

I introduced Miriam to the joys of place, earlier this year. She might be able to offer a more balanced view than my unabashed adoration.

So, what do we do about Domenico's? My suggestion is that we're upfront about it, and give it it's own separate category, which it deserves. I'd propose that we make Domenico's the founder restaurant in our Lunch Quest Hall of Fame.

What the criteria are for election of additional places is up for debate, but I'm minded to keep the bar pretty high.

MJ's view
Whoa. Easy tiger. I think you may be jumping ahead of yourself there with the crowning glory of the 'best restaurant in Edinburgh' bestowed upon Domenico's. Don't get me wrong, I have thoroughly enjoyed every meal I've had there, and there are few places I trust to make me authentic and even custom made pasta dishes as much as I'd trust the staff at Domenico's, but I think you may have a well-biased opinion and that might need to be tempered to give a fair review.

That being said, I propose that we go again for lunch, you and I and take a like-minded, non-biased member of the public with us and have them give their verdict.

B's attempt at balance
Yeah, I know I'm going overboard, so I've tempered things slightly by amending my verbiage to say that Domenico's is "currently my favourite", rather than handing it the rosette for "best" before we even get things started.

Whilst my aim is to remain objective with our regular reviews, I thought it useful to include a brief rant about where my lascivious luncheon impulses currently reside. Which place currently tops your list, at the start of our mighty quest?

I'm completely delighted with the notion of going back to Domenico's with this lucky like-minded, non-biased member of the public. I wonder who they are? I look forward to meeting them :-)

Now, as far as cooking goes, I definitely have my limitations. I’m pretty comfortable with soups and stews (I feel I can accurately season goo), but beyond that things start to get rather hit-and-miss.

Earlier last year, a couple of friends and I came up with a good way to try and
improve our skills, get out of our cooking comfort zones, and have oodles of fun: the
A-Z Three Course Challenge.

The principle is simple: each week get together, take a course each (rotating each
week), and put yourselves together a nice three-course meal. We chose to structure
it around the alphabet. For example, we started with Aubergine Soup (taste good,
look bad), Afghani Korma (richly spiced goodness), and Almond and Apple Cake
(sweet heavenly mouthfuls of delight), moving on to Bruschetta (simple elegance),
Beef Wellington (good beef, shame about the pastry), and Bread and Butter Pudding
(old school fun), and so on.

Along the way, we attempted some fairly tricky stuff: a goat’s cheese soufflé (rose
beautifully, but didn’t taste of much); duck with raspberry sauce (worked a treat in the end); and an incredibly involved recipe for southern fried chicken (artery-
hardening magnificence). There were hits (spicy king prawns, bitterballen, Eton
mess, gateau), and misses (sticky Guinness pudding, gumbo), mixed with a couple
of recipes that went straight in to the regular rotation (fishcakes, jumbo cheese straws).

From A-K, there were no outright disasters.

We were beginning to feel like cooking immortals: invincible, indestructible,
incapable of failure. But fate was saving up a culinary calamity in luscious lemony
form – the classic lemon tart.

The details are still too painful to recount at length, but the outcome – a biscuit,
loosely trapped in partially cooked scrambled eggs – will live on in infamy.

Cooking disasters are inevitable and humbling, but that doesn’t make them any
easier to swallow. The emotional scars run deep, but I feel after a couple of months
of healing that I’m just about ready to attempt to address this fruity farrago.

So, dear readership, what tips can you pass on to ease my way through the lemon
tart mine-field? I feel I need to build up a groundswell of support before my next
attempt.

Should I seek sponsorship and donate the proceeds to other sufferers from lemon
tart trauma syndrome or other epic food failure disorders?

All thoughts welcomed.