Food on a Friday: The Newport Inn, The Yellow Bittern and other stories
Murray Chalmers on the London chef who caused a stir with his comments on sharing plates, and a wonderful meal at a local restaurant in Fife.
For anyone even vaguely interested in restaurants it’s impossible to avoid the continuing fuss over some recent comments made by Hugh Corcoran, chef/proprietor of newly-opened London restaurant The Yellow Bittern.
Just a few weeks after opening one of the most eagerly-awaited restaurants of the year, the many good things about this place seem somewhat cruelly overshadowed by heated responses to Corcoran’s assertion that sharing plates have ruined dining, “or rather it has ruined diners.”
“It is now apparently completely normal,” he went on, “to book a table for 4 people, say, and then order one starter and two mains to share, and a glass of tap water.
“There was at one point an etiquette in restaurants that if you booked a table in a nice place you, at the very least, had to order a main course (and possibly even a starter and dessert) and drink wine, in order for your table to be worth serving”.
The nature of the game
This (to me) completely sane and logical point of view got me thinking again about the transactional element of eating out and how - just as the restauranteur has some kind of hope/obligation to fill your belly and maybe even your soul with great things - so do we, the customers, have an obligation to play our part in choosing how to approach having the best experience in a restaurant.
My initial thoughts on this had been inspired by a piece the excellent Tim Hayward had written in the FT where he discussed the fact that - post Brexit and Covid - we diners perhaps had to lower our expectations of what constitutes good service in times when the hospitality industry is suffering so greatly, particularly outside London.
It’s a nuanced argument because it essentially means we might have to rethink how we view eating out, tempered by the fact that, for many, dining out is now a luxury activity which carries with it even more heightened expectations of greatness from a mere two hours of your life.
As Hugh Corcoran points out, “it’s only lunch”.
Whilst The Yellow Bittern will rightly weather the PR storm - Andy Warhol once advised a worried Nick Rhodes of Duran Duran to weigh his press cuttings, rather than read them - the debate about what we expect from our restaurants and what they expect from us will only intensify.
I have often been very critical about food in Dundee but, essentially, my ongoing upset isn’t because of lacklustre, uninformed service or even bought-in, basic, bad food, - although God knows, there’s already enough places covering those two sins; no, my anger is more about the homogeneity of so much of what is offered and the sheer laziness apparent in not even striving to offer something considered and honest, however simple.
It’s all about the food
For me, everything starts with the food and if that’s brilliant, yet served from a hole in the wall in a scuzzy part of town every second Tuesday, cash only, BYOB – I’m there.
I’ve been to so many places where bad service was endured or even perversely enjoyed because the food was just so bloody good.
There were certain places in London’s Chinatown where accepting service with a snarl became a badge of honour because of the quality of the dim sum, and this seems perfectly normal to me.
I bring my money. Restaurants bring me food. I need food. They need money. Simples!
A case in point
A recent visit to the Newport Inn, now run by Gillian Veal, highlighted so much of the above.
First, full disclosure. I’ve been a friend of Gillian’s for years and her Parlour Café in Dundee was often my go-to spot for a simple post-gym breakfast or lunch.
The food was café food, wholesome, honest and simple, served in a space that was conducive to good times.
Gillian, a much-loved part of Dundee’s dining scene, recently took over the Newport, which was formerly run as a fine-dining restaurant by Jamie Scott.
As you might expect, Gillian Veal’s ethos is very different to that of the former Masterchef winner.
Second disclosure: my sister Elaine is now cooking at the Newport.
The Newport Inn, as it’s now known, has burst free from the sous vide shackles of Scott’s brand of fine dining and presents a much simpler, more egalitarian presence to the world.
A different vibe
Firstly, the vibe is different. The Newport never really worked completely as a fine dining restaurant because the place - essentially a casual/boho space - never felt grand enough for the lofty aspirations of the chef.
The space now works much better, given that the spectacular river view is still the main visual draw, the wood burner provides both spiritual and physical warmth, candles flicker, and an olive tree looms large while Nico’s ‘These Days’ plays gently in the background (Gillian’s musical taste is immaculate).
And so to dinner…
Howard, our ebullient, smart, likeable and funny waiter, has us seated at a corner table with a drink in our hands, in minutes.
My sister is cooking tonight, and she’d already texted me a list of the specials, so I barely need to look at the board before ordering.
Let’s face it, if I see a chicken, leek and thyme pie, with mash and Swiss chard on any menu, I’m having it – whether it be by pie maestro Jeremy Lee at Quo Vadis or made by my sister’s fair hand here on the banks of the Tay.
This pie was so good!! Absolutely correct short pastry, made with lard and butter, generously filled with the perfect ratio of sauce to poached chicken - this was a Prince of Pies, and a bargain at £17.
The imam fainted…
Despite a wonderful-sounding spinach dumpling served with baby gem lettuce for £12.50, my best friend and neighbour David ordered the imam bayildi for £14.50 and was completely silent as he scoffed the lot – the perfectly cooked aubergine stuffed so richly with onion and tomato that I thought David might faint in shock, emulating the imam who apparently fell to the floor in delight when he first tasted the dish, giving rise to its name ( “the imam fainted”).
A wonderful adjunct to the story also exists, claiming he fainted in horror at the cost of all the olive oil used in the dish, bringing the parable so very neatly into 2024.
We shared a perfect green salad and gazed longingly at a radicchio, stilton, walnut and beetroot salad for £10, wishing we could also order that.
Dessert was a brilliant sticky toffee pudding which might sound boring but – when properly made, as this one was – there is nothing more pleasing on a cold autumn night, except perhaps a bottle of a ballsy, no-nonsense Spanish red, which we also enjoyed.
Our whole meal cost £70 but £28 of that was on the wine.
Food of this quality is absurdly reasonably priced here, although I have to say we confined ourselves to the specials board.
The regular menu has an extensive selection of pizzas and more of the mezze plates that will be familiar to Parlour regulars, but, for me, it’s the specials board that engenders most interest and seems the most accurately priced.
We ate on a Tuesday night, after what was apparently a very busy lunch service.
People need to know
However, in the evening we were one of only three tables occupied and, here’s the rub and where this links to my opening remarks about the transactional element of dining out; a menu like this, rich in great cooking, seasonality and the sheer joy of food, needs to be supported but, for that, people need to know it’s available.
Social media plays a key role here because, when I put this menu on my Instagram I had a lot of people message me saying how great it was.
It’s not enough now to build it and know they will come, whether that be in a metropolitan area or somewhere more rural.
Publicity and word of mouth are key, whether that be social media posts or just telling your friends.
It’s up to us too
Yes, a cold Tuesday night in Newport-on-Tay could hardly be expected to be swinging with the same energy as a weekend but, if we’re to enjoy food of this quality, served in pleasant surroundings, at a price that won’t break the bank, then we as customers have to step up to the plate instead of relentlessly passing it around for sharing.
There is no point lamenting the loss of a business when it’s too late, just as we also must allow a business the space to grow, to learn, to make mistakes and to settle into a rhythm that also depends on us as contributors to its pulse.
Ironically, one of the other tables occupied the night we dined was taken by the owners/chef of The View in Wormit, another small, local restaurant that has had to learn to adapt to changing times.
It’s only by supporting places like this - on a Tuesday, or any day of the week - that our local food scene will improve.
As such, it’s not enough to moan about the places that get it wrong (guilty as charged) – we also have to support those that are trying so very hard to get it right.
The Newport Inn, 1 High St, Newport-on-Tay, DD6 8AB. T: 01382 913215. www.thenewportinn.co.uk Insta: @newport_inn
Sounds fab Murray! Will definitely try (although have booked DCA for the impending graduation!) x
Thanks for sharing Murray. Sounds amazing, maybe worth a wee trip oe'r the watter.