Why Is Dundee Such A Culinary Desert?

By Murray Chalmers

WHY IS DUNDEE SUCH A CULINARY DESERT?

News that Wagamama is coming to Dundee has been greeted with unbridled joy by many local food lovers, myself included.

Until the day foodbanks become unnecessary and Andy Warhol’s dream of money for everyone becomes a reality, this is the kind of levelling up that might even make me appoint gormless Michael Gove Secretary of State for Chili Chicken Ramen - the Don of Donburi, the King of Katsu, the High Priest of the Beef Brisket Hot Pot.

Bad puns built around bao buns notwithstanding, it looks like salvation by way of the noodle is coming, and not a minute too soon.

The truth is we desperately need Wagamama to inject some egalitarian, honest flavour into Dundee’s tired, torpid dining scene.

It gives me no pleasure to say it but the truth about food in Dundee is just as unpalatable as the relentlessly dire culinary offerings in this, Scotland’s fourth largest city.

There is literally nowhere to eat here, should you require something like the kind of simple, seasonal brasserie food served in every major city in the UK.  

If Dundee is to be a truly international city then we have to start by accepting that this is currently our reality, instead of praising the latest coffee shop and fast- food outlet to open in our beleaguered city centre.

Please – no more traybakes! No more pubs with generic, bought in food! No more pellets of mealy mush posing as cannonballs, well- fired and flaccid in the name of the cursed cliché that is the haggis bonbon! And, almost worst of all, no more four or six course tasting menus inspired by tv programmes reducing food to ciphers of competitive cheffybollocks, where it’s less about the cuisine than the dick- swinging collective cojones- busting conceit of either coming first or doing it first.

No to all of this.

Something has to change.

Having been the Courier’s restaurant critic for three years, I know how hard it is to find foodie optimism in a city ground down by poverty, bad planning and a city centre that feels like a Ballardian wasteland after 6pm.

Fast food joints proliferate, as do coffee shops with the ubiquitous fast, fat pastries, many of which are barely disguised emergency hotlines to A&E on a plate.

At the other end of the scale are a very few allegedly high- end places which seem to believe that quoting a legend like Pierre Koffmann on the menu or charging almost £50 for four ‘courses’ whilst actually counting canapes and a thimbleful of soup as two of the four courses is what we need or want in 2024.

You want dessert? That means you must order a ‘refresher course’ as well as your pudding, taking the final bill per head to £65.

Assuming the refresher course is probably a sorbet, I have to say I’d need something a little weightier and more bang for my buck when dining at that price level.

I hate to admit this because I love eating out so much, but I’ve actually stopped trying to go out for dinner in Dundee, simply because I feel I can often cook better in my own kitchen.

After all, we live in a part of the world groaning with top class bounty across every season.

If I shop judiciously, I can buy superlative yet reasonably- priced ingredients in Tayside, Fife and Perthshire that are often exported to top restaurants all across the world.

We have some great independent shops which somehow manage to survive against all the odds. Even in my local area of Newport on Tay we have an excellent deli, a good butcher and, of course, the wonderful Strawberry Shed.

In Dundee itself we have The Cheesery, Fraser’s Fruit and Veg, Braithwaite’s tea and coffee shop, Matthew’s Food and the fantastic Continental Food Store on the Hilltown, amongst others.

There is absolutely no reason not to cook well when we have ingredients of such stellar quality around us - so why is it so difficult to find somewhere that just wants to celebrate those ingredients with simple, seasonal cookery?

A recent meal highlighted many of these issues, and I remember looking at my dining companions after two hours of disappointment (one day, when you’re bored enough of life, let me tell you how they dealt with serving carnivorous canapes to a vegetarian) and feeling that we were in a version of Abigail’s Party - except without the excitement of the cardiac arrest to end the night.

As we walked to the car it was impossible not to remember Johnny Rotten’s remark to the audience at the Sex Pistols’ final show in America – “ever get the feeling you’ve been cheated?”

Much is always written about how Dundonians are quick to put their own city down and I do think it’s very important to be positive and optimistic.

But that doesn’t mean we all have to be delusional and the truth is it breaks my heart to see genuinely thrilling places like Boat Brae – a great location just waiting for some consistently great plates of food– close the doors forever.

At a time when hospitality faces wipe-out in many quarters, it would take a heart of stone to feel anything other than deep sadness when a business closes, especially one carved with such care as Boat Brae.

But the fact is you can have the view (stellar), the room (tasteful), the staff (usually excellent) and the aspirations (admirable) but if the food disappoints and lacks conviction, affordability, consistency or imagination then your chances of survival in the face of Brexit, Covid, a kitchen fire, an economic downturn and the general fall in disposable income become thinner than Lindsay Hoyle’s promises.

Of course it’s not all bad. Thankfully, there are still some good places to have lunch or breakfast - and, as a serial and sometimes solo diner at those times, I don’t know where I would be without the stovies in Fisher & Donaldson, the simple but delicious food at Beirut, the carefully prepared dishes at Pacamara, the dim sum at the Manchurian, the breakfasts and soup at the Parlour or just the lip-burning joy of a hot pie eaten in the street.

But woman and man cannot exist on Dundee pies alone and dinner is demonstrably different anyway, because the evening brings with it a heightened sense of unbridled anticipation.

Much as I love a good lunch, it’s dinner that still thrills with the joy of being free of the responsibilities of the day.

That’s why it’s with some relief that I tell you the best localdinner I’ve had recently was cooked in Dundee but eaten in my own kitchen, an excellent takeaway from the fantastic Babujee on the Perth Road – a relatively new Indian restaurant that I can heartily recommend and look forward to visiting.

Also, praise must always be given to the ace Jim’s Delhi Club, a true oasis and a venture that any city would be proud to host.

There are glimmers of hope, but not many – and still none promising the much- needed brasserie type food that Dundee sorely lacks.

Yes, Dundee has some good chefs and, when he’s on form, it could be claimed that The Tayberry’s Adam Newth is an excellent one.

The fact Adam has reopened in the city, and so close to the Rep and DCA, can only be a good thing.

But again, I really hope The Tayberry can loosen up a bit from the shackles of ‘fine dining’ and allow for a less structured approach to menu planning and cooking, so that Adam’s skill can be enjoyed and celebrated in an environment that is more in line with what people want in 2024.

To me, that’s as much about what is left off the plate (materially and conceptually) as what makes it to the final dish.

It’s about the freedom and conviction to be simple yet immaculate, skills that chefs like James Ferguson at Kinneuchar and Dundonian culinary genius (and fellow Dundee peh lover) Jeremy Lee at Quo Vadis in London, celebrate with menus which change daily and almost sing with the simple joy of the seasons.

Why is it so difficult for someone in Dundee to do the same?