Photograph: Robert Perry
BEFORE SatNav, SpouseNav was a technique com
monly used to help drivers reach their destination. It went something like this. Wife, or husband, would sit in the passenger seat, saying: "I think it's right here, no left, no right. Okay, you've gone straight on. Nice." Frustrated driver would tear large clumps out of his or her hair.
The last time it happened on the way to a do in the southern suburbs of Glasgow, she had insisted she knew the way. Calls to the host's home only brought derisive laughter from her well-heeled friends whose SatNav-equipped cars had taken them like incoming missiles to the plentiful supplies of food and drink.
Then SpouseNav failed again, this time on our way to Musselburgh and the tempting prospect of the Glasshouse Restaurant at Eskmills, on the fringes of the Honest Toun.
"I'm sure it's up here," I tried to say convincingly as we circled in the dark. Then we drove a bit more around Eskmills Business Centre, an old mill complex now converted into offices. Eventually, down an alley, we spotted the glow of lights.
Minutes later we walked through the glass doors and into the welcoming buzz of the oh-so-contemporary reception area. What mattered was not that it had been a little difficult to find – okay, I missed the glaringly obvious sign – but that chef Steve Adair, with a pedigree of fine Edinburgh restaurants behind him, had been inspired enough by the location to site his new venture in what up to now has been something of a gastronomic desert.
Having put myself through such stress, I was eyeing up the comfortable leather sofas and almost tasting a gin and tonic. But with calm efficiency, we were whizzed through to our table in the restaurant's main dining-room.
It's a room with genuine wow factor, a giant glass box with floor-to-ceiling windows within which subtle lighting creates the neat trick of an intimate space around each table. It's a memorable dining experience during the day, but at night it comes into its own because of the view out over the floodlit courtyard. More Milano piazza than Musselburgh, if a little chillier.
Adair has The Witchery and Prestonfield on his CV but, perhaps sensibly, he hasn't gone for top-end fine dining at The Glasshouse. Instead, he offers competently cooked, locally sourced, realistically priced dishes of high quality.
He wants this to be a neighbourhood restaurant and so far the neighbourhood seems to have responded well. Good job, as passing trade is zero.
It was time to navigate the menu. There are around six starters and eight mains, a short bistro-style list with a range of imaginative dishes all worth consideration. My choice of warm caramelised onion and brie tart with roast garlic dressing was a perfect starting point for a cold night, the pastry chef excelling himself from the off. At the other side of the table, a salad of sliced beetroot, crumbly goat's cheese and slices of moist and tender smoked duck quickly disappeared. "Absolutely no complaints," said my companion.
Shunning meat for the evening, I whittled my choice down to the strawberry grouper or the seared sea bream. Losing my nerve at the last minute, I went for the known option and was not disappointed by the crisp slice of bream that arrived in a deep bowl. It was atop a pile of saffron mash surrounded by a lake of mussel broth.
If I had a quibble it was that the mash soaked into the broth, making a rather messy concoction. But the dish was rescued by the excellence of the fish and the flavours added by the mussel soup. Not perfect, but getting there.
Across the table, a melt-in-the-mouth fillet steak was in the throes of a vanishing act. It was pronounced cooked perfectly to order and complemented well by dauphinoise potatoes with spinach and truffle jus.
I had toyed with the idea of a side dish from the range of enticing salads but after crossing the main-course finishing line I was glad I hadn't. That left room for dessert. I couldn't resist the milk-chocolate cheesecake with blackberry compôte. It was as sweet and gooey as I wanted it to be, with the tartness of the fruit drawing it back from the edge. A hit. My companion chose the trio of crème brûlées, delicate pots of vanilla, chocolate and blueberry. I would have liked to have checked the texture, but I wasn't quick enough.
By this time my initial concerns over lack of atmosphere caused by a conspicuous lack of diners – probably not surprising for midweek in March – had eased as the tables behind me continued to fill up. Weekends must be busier, as I had struggled to make a Saturday reservation.
In any case, the contemporary styling, the light show and the great use of an old building had won me over. Neither of us will have any difficulty navigating our way back and, on this showing, it will be sooner rather than later.
VITAL STATISTICSThe Glasshouse at Eskmills Stuart House, Eskmills, Station Road, Musselburgh (0131 273 5240,
www.theglasshouseateskmills.com)
Out of pocket Starters £3.95–£7.95;
mains £9.50–£17;
puddings £4.95–£7
Rating 7/10
The full article contains 911 words and appears in Scotland On Sunday newspaper.
