Frenchie, Edinburgh

Plus ça change, plus c’est la même chose. I probably could have got a point or two off you by asking the source of that quotation. Jean-Baptiste Alphonse Karr, in 1849. Thank you for asking.

Frenchie is on the site recently occupied by Rollo. They even mention that at the very top of their website. Rollo was stylishly decorated in black and grey, with cushions round all the walls. Frenchie is stylishly decorated in black and grey, with cushions round all the walls. You have to look quite hard to notice that they say Frenchie, not Rollo. So all in all you could be forgiven for thinking that not much has indeed changed. How wrong can you be?

I first encountered Fabrice and Alison Bouteloup when they ran The Barley Bree, a pleasant restaurant with rooms in the Perthshire village of Muthill. In the latter part of last year they made a low key entrance to Edinburgh, actually trading under the Rollo name for a little while. The style and the warmth remain, but much else is different. What do they have to say about themselves? Pretty pictures aside, you don't expect too much from a website these days. French flair, international flavours, exceptional Scottish ingredients, you know the sort of thing.

Well, let me reprimand you for your cynicism. You can't eat a website. Build up a good appetite and get yourself here sharpish, just 100 metres or so from the Picardy Place tram stop. Good things await. Fabrice is the chef. Alison is usually front of house, but wasn't in on the day of our visit.  In her place PM and I were very well looked after by Scott and Naomi as we started on a massive catch up. Hard to believe that it's nearly two years since we last met.

The menu divides into Bites, Bowls and Plates. The former is a misnomer since, olives aside, it's a list of starters. My heart, if not my arteries, gladdened at the sight of rillettes. Done well these are things of beauty, a cross between pate and potted meat. On more than one occasion I have criticised a plate of rillettes because we Brits have an aversion to fat, and lard is essential. As you will have guessed from the name, Monsieur Bouteloup is French and knows how to make rillettes. Oh my, does he know how to make rillettes. And in a combination of genius they are off set with a gherkin tartare which, I think, also had capers in it. That with two slabs of sourdough toast, and I really didn't need a main.

The other starter was a plate of panisses. These are basically chips made of chickpea flour. Light as a feather with not only an earthy tapenade but also a saffron aioli. The chef who served last week's dry rice balls should come here and learn.

Carry on to the list of mains and be prepared to be surprised. Scallops - £22.50. And, wait for it, Scotch Beef Fillet £23.50! Whit? Now at those prices they have to make up margins with their side dishes, but what's delivered is surprisingly substantial. My beef had a good rocket and Parmesan salad. Unusually I didn't go for the chips, though I'm sure they would have been excellent. Why? Because I spied Dauphinoise Potatoes. Not a classic version, but one containing Gruyère. Stunning - just like my mammy used to make, and that's high praise.

Across the table a confit duck leg came with both spicy lentils and a parsley gremolata. We like to think that the entirely unnecessary extra side of tempura broccoli was ordered in the interests of research, not sheer greed. An unfinishable portion, four huge stalks in the lightest of batters, the advertised blue cheese crumble supplemented by something else cheesy - more Gruyère possibly.

I bumped into the amiable Fabrice at the end. He was in civvies, so clearly he hadn't been manning the stoves, and seemed in relaxed mode. I'm just pleased that he has such able deputies. I'm less pleased that the place was less than half full on a sunny Friday. Please, please get along and remedy that. It will most definitely be to your advantage.