eòrna, Edinburgh

In the career of every food genius, there some seminal moments. Obviously I know about these things. There is one I remember well. It was in fact my first meeting, some 10 years ago, with Brian Grigor, chef and co patron of today's establishment. I know little about his career up to then. Stuttering, possibly? Merely one Michelin star and head chef at one of Edinburgh's top restaurants. He made the inspired decision to invite me for a chat. I reciprocated by presenting him with a copy of my new cook book, A Bunch of Fives. I don't think he's looked back since.

After The Balmoral he was Executive Chef for a chap called Albert Roux (heard of him?), then in 2022 he and wine expert Glen Montgomery set up eòrna in Edinburgh's Stockbridge area. As an aside, you may say that anyone can call himself an expert. Don't take my word for it. Since 2023 Glen has featured in the Harpers list of the UK's Top Sommeliers.

Now it's fair to say that the capital has seen a lot of high end start ups in the past few years. You know the sort of thing. Star chef presiding over a sweaty brigade, lording it at the pass, doing the interviews and taking the glory. What's different here? Well, things don't get any high-ender. (Yes, I know you won't find that in the OED, but don't write in.) The four savoury courses in the six course set menu include lobster, caviar, partridge, scallop and venison loin. In addition there are two puds and three canapés. All for just over 100 quid.

But the remarkable, nay gobsmackingly amazing, thing is that the kitchen has precisely one staff member, namely Brian himself. No sous chef, not even a plongeur/kitchen porter. Glen tells me he helps with the washing up. Those of you who cook may comment that you too have no help in your own kitchen? Let me tell you more about the food so you may realise the crass folly of what you have just said.

There are twelve covers. You are all seated at a (surprisingly comfortable) bar counter. Arrive at 6.45 for 7. Canapés are served around 7.15. Your dinner will conclude at 11. Trust me, while you will be well fed, you just won't want to leave. Behind the bar is the kitchen where you watch Brian cooking. Everything. By himself. Glen meantime is non stop as well, delivering food, clearing decks and, most importantly, sorting drinks.

There is a remarkably extensive wine list - I know I don't usually write about wine, but I'm determined to omit no detail today - at surprisingly sensible prices for a place of this quality. I generally avoid wine flights, largely because of (a) the rip off and (b) the prattle. Here you have a choice of two. I went for the premium one. Wow! It's not uncommon for a sommelier to know some quirky pairings. Here a Galician wine, almost salty on the palate, accompanied the lobster, while the richness of the pithivier was balanced by a bone dry amontillado. And for those questioning value? A 2019 white Burgundy with the scallop dish; a 30 year old claret with the venison, and a 2009 Beerenauslese with the puds. You learn stuff, as opposed to being lectured at. Glen's wine knowledge is on a par with Brian's skill in the kitchen. Read on and discover how high that praise is.

Were I being really stupid, I would say that food seems to appear from nowhere to be finished off in front of us guests. Glen tells me that Brian is in starting his food preparation around 9 every morning. I guess it will be after midnight by the time they get cleared up. Five days a week. And I was reading recently that the long hours culture in restaurants was eroding. Hah! Civilisation's loss is our gain. Pin back your ears and salivate.

A cheese gougère is choux pastry mixed with cheese and deep fried. Usually light as a feather in skilled hands. Is that enough for our hero? Of course not. Brian then pipes some cheesy gloop (that's a technical term) into them. So much work for two bites. He recommends we take only one bite for the crispy cylinder containing venison chorizo and topped with grated horseradish. Now if you're going to serve seaweed custard, what do you serve with it? Mussels, smoked of course. Maybe a little samphire and something crispy? Thought so. Well done. But bear in mind the meal hasn't actually started yet.

Bizarrely, the lobster dish was my least favourite of everything. Probably a mere 9/10. It featured clever things with watermelon, three ways if I remember correctly. As we're tucking into this, three very large pies are cooking in the combi oven. No, not the type you serve with beans and chips. but a partridge pithivier. These have a classic design, with elegant curved lines and a fancy decoration at the top involving a couple of different size pastry cutters. I made one once at a butchery class. Even the decoration is difficult to do.

So, a game pie? Well not exactly. Working from the outside there are layers comprising truffled chicken mousse, spinach, smoked bacon then partridge. That it? No, in the centre is a prune stuffed with a mousse made from the partridge liver. Am I allowed to score this 15/10? Dish of the decade, served with a Madeira sauce and the smoothest of parsnip purées.

Then the biggest scallop you ever did see paired with the miracle of courgette made interesting. On to deer. Venison loin is a titsy thing, is it not? Not when it comes from red deer, your Monarch of the Glen specimen. (See photo above.) There are clever things with pumpkin and truffle and elderberry. Two more stonking plates.

To desserts. The advertised dish of Black Fig | Pistachio doesn't tell the half of it. With chef delivering the plates himself there is the great opportunity to ask questions. For example, what on earth gave you the inspiration to make a panna cotta (the pillow for the roasted figs) from crème fraiche? Well you have to do something with the leftover liquids from when you make your own butter. (I did mention the home made butter, didn't I, the cream being blended with kefir for three days first?)

And finally to the Apple | White Chocolate | Lemon Verbena affair. The thing that looks like an apple isn't. It has a sort of biscuit base, some apple on top, then, I guess, something with white chocolate. Lord knows what the topping is. Then round the side, the tiny dottles are fresh apple, burnt apple purée, and meringues the size of the nail on my pinkie. I know about burnt apple now, but I sense information overload.

Gentlemen, I have but one complaint. My vocabulary doesn't have enough superlatives to do this justice. Apologies that the editor won't let me score more than 25/25. To the rest of you I say, make your booking now while you still can before the Michelin man comes to call.