Service with a snarl

THE man in the suit looked me up and down, from the gleaming point of my baldy head to the unpolished tips of my shabby brown brogues. He clearly didn't like what he saw.

"Hello. I've booked a table for 8.30," I said, ignoring the fact that he had just ignored me for the past five minutes while I stood uncomfortably at the entrance to his restaurant.

"You're in the wrong place," replied the gatekeeper unsmilingly, barring the way as zealously as a bouncer on Sauchiehall Street at Hogmanay. "You're looking for the brasserie and it's upstairs. This is for fine dining only."

"Er, I think we're supposed to be down here," I replied quickly. "I'm sure this is where we've booked."

His face clouded over. I could almost hear his confusion before he snapped into inaction. "You'd better pick a table then," he said, pointing to a small, windowless room that contained eight or nine tables, only one of which was occupied - by two rotund men in suits who, given the loud way in which they discussed the tittle-tattle of Holyrood and Westminster life, must have worked in the back office of political life.

Our waiter had obviously already written off his chances of getting a tip and wasn't particularly anxious to make amends. We took off our coats and waited for him to take them. Then we waited some more, before eventually putting them on the floor, where they stayed for the entire meal.

Surly waiter man wasn't the only frosty soul in attendance: when we'd walked in through the front door and said we'd booked a table, the receptionist looked briefly surprised and then waved to the hallway. "It's down there," she said before going straight back to her paperwork. All in all, it was the strangest of introductions to Norton House, an old mansion next to Edinburgh Airport that is now a four-star hotel and is best known among locals as the canniest way to get to Ratho avoiding the dual-carriageway tailbacks.

On the plus side, our attentive server did eventually turn out to be a helpful sort. When he brought the wine list, he opened it at the section on wines by the glass before laying it on the table in front of me. And later, when he brought our main courses, he pointed to the leeks on the plate and identified them for us, just in case we didn't recognise them.

If all of the above sounds tiresome (and it was), at least it was in sharp contrast to the high quality of chef Graeme Shaw's work, which shone through from the beginning to the end of the meal. Here was someone who clearly knows his business.

That much was obvious as soon as our starters arrived. I had ordered the roast pigeon breast wrapped in pancetta, which came with curried couscous, a sweet-potato purée and red-pepper chutney. Lucinda went for the crab-filled ravioli, which came with langoustines and a shellfish foam. Both were, in their own way, excellent: my squab was a deep-red hue, lightly cooked and incredibly moist; the ravioli was a well-executed blend of subtle flavours.

Had it not been for some slightly overcooked monkfish, our main courses would have comfortably lived up to the heady pace set by the starters. Even so, there was still enough in that dish - the hefty portion of fish was accompanied by saffron mash, baby leeks and mussels, which were alleged to have been curried - to recommend it.

There were no qualifications needed when it came to my roe deer, however. The large stack of venison was beautifully tender and greatly enhanced by the braised cabbage, parsley root purée, pear chutney and juniper sauce that accompanied it. There was nothing not to like.

Much the same could be said of pudding, which followed a palate-cleansing glass of what can only be described as a pineapple smoothie topped with whipped egg white and packed with so much chilli that it didn't so much cleanse my palate as almost obliterate it.

My warm chocolate fondant had a gloriously gooey, molten centre and came with a big dollop of gingerbread ice-cream (which could have done with a good deal more gingerbread). The cheese plate was a well-constructed range, with a good smattering of obscure Scottish cheeses: it was not short on either quantity or quality.

Not that all of the above came cheap. Ushers, which is named after the august brewing family who built this gothic pile, and Norton House Hotel in which it is situated, owe their brisk trade to their proximity to the Royal Bank's HQ and to the airport, so this is clearly designated expense-account territory populated largely by men in suits.

Still, I was pleasantly surprised by the quality of the food; almost as surprised, in fact, as I was by the attitude of the staff. Which is why the next time I head for Norton House, it will almost certainly be because I need a handy shortcut to Ratho.

Vital statistics

Ushers Norton House Hotel, Newbridge, Edinburgh (0131 333 1275)

Out of pocket

Starters £7.50-£11.95; main courses £18.50- £24.50; puddings £7.50 (cheese £8.95)

Rating 6/10