Food on a Friday: Valvona & Crolla, Edinburgh
Murray Chalmers finds comfort and joy in a culinary national treasure, an enduring beacon of hospitality and taste.
“I may never be happy but tonight I am content. Nothing more than an empty house, the warm hazy weariness from a day spent setting strawberry runners in the sun, a glass of cool sweet milk, and a shallow dish of blueberries bathed in cream. When one is so tired at the end of a day one must sleep, and at the next dawn there are more strawberry runners to set, and so one goes on living, near the earth. At times like this I’d call myself a fool to ask for more.”
— Sylvia Plath
The notion of contentment used to be rather sullied by those regrettable bed-fellows smugness and apathy.
As young bucks and does, we’d roam the city in search of new sensations, ever keen to break through windows and ceilings to other worlds – in my case, anywhere other than where nature had deposited me, whilst allowing nurture to inflict its stifling worst.
Emboldened by beauty and youth, we’d need to be where the action was, especially if it involved some amount of hardship or one-upmanship in getting there.
The permafrost of cool
We wore each new experience as a layer of cool, underlain by a permafrost so impermeable only the latest imported Japanese beer could pass through.
Those days have gone for me now, and happily so.
When I go to a restaurant now, I’m of course happy to have my preconceptions and tastebuds challenged, but at the very core of the experience there must be joy.
And rather fittingly for the season, joy often comes with very vocal tidings of comfort and twinkling fairy lights, something that is much needed as we approach the end of yet another fucked up year.
I meant to write this review the day after the US election, a day so seemingly apocalyptic I’m amazed I made it out of the house.
Almost delirious through lack of sleep and incredulity, I remember walking to Leith Walk as if in a trance, wanting to approach every stranger and start a massive group hug whilst shouting “she was ROBBED” against the wind.
Like a group hug
Instead, I chose the culinary and respectful equivalent of a group hug from strangers and went to Valvona & Crolla for lunch.
Founded in 1934, Valvona & Crolla has been a fixture in Edinburgh for a remarkable 90 years and it’s easy to see why.
The shop itself is a cornucopia of pleasure, each shelf, counter and ceiling space overflowing with the most exquisite selection of produce imaginable.
You want raddichio tardivo? It’s over there next to the puntarelle. You want a cutter for the puntarelle? It’s there by the Amalfi lemons, next to the beech zucchini cutter. New season Capezzana oil? Just over by the huge range of balsamics, before you get to the wonderful wine section.
It’s so thrilling to go through those doors and enter this other world of exquisite taste, where everything is in season and perfectly in tune with the essence of simply creating a good meal for supper.
But first, lunch!
The café space of Valvona carries on the joy of downstairs, so much so that you feel enveloped by a rush of bonhomie as soon as you walk in.
The staff are ace – friendly, knowledgeable and supremely adept. The space itself is warm and welcoming, with family portraits on the wall and a distinct sense of familial pride hanging in the air.
Maybe it’s the clustered decoration of the prints on the walls but in some ways it reminds me of Joe Allen in its heyday, only with better food.
The lunch menu was sublime, and I could have eaten anything from it. A selection of pasta ranges from around £20, whilst antipasti are all around £9/£10.
Main courses start from around £18 for a wonderful melanzane alla parmigiana.
Immaculate taste and balance
My salsiccia – chargrilled Toscano sausage, soft polenta and roasted red peppers, was £20 and was immaculate in taste and balance.
I can’t remember how much my large glass of Chianti was because I was subsumed by a higher state at that point, one that not only made me forget the election result but also the misery of Brexit, rationalising that if we could still get food this good on Leith Walk then our ongoing links to Europe remained hopeful.
A repeat visit to Valvona two days ago showed that it’s also the most perfect place for breakfast, where the Paesano full works cost a remarkably reasonable £12, quite something for food of this quality.
The verdure vegetarian breakfast looked equally enticing. It’s good to see that the place was so full; also, notably, this is a good place to eat alone.
But, wonderful as the food is here, it’s not simply that that’s made Valvonna such a true national treasure.
It’s something beyond what’s presented on the shelves or in the glass or on the plate, something intangible that only very special places have.
It’s a feeling of warmth, of caring, of quiet discernment and a cossetting that seems to provide a temporary blanket against the struggles of the outside world.
The essence of hospitality
This is hospitality that embodies the very meaning of that word.
It’s both comfort and joy and the fact Valvona has been trading for 90 years, embodying all that is good about great food and service, whilst seeming very much of the now is something to celebrate indeed.
An absolute consistent, enduring, superlative gem.
Valvona & Crolla, 19 Elm Row, Edinburgh EH7 4AA. T: 0131 556 6066. www.valvonacrolla.co.uk