Telephone: 0131 556 6066
Address: 19 Elm Row, Edinburgh
Lunch for two, including wine and service, around £45.
Damn and blast; blast and damn. There I was, gagging to write a positive review, a veritable hymn of praise to make the angels blush. And then the ham-shank stew turned up and all the sweet dreams died. As platefuls go it was definitely a first for me. I have read other people's accounts of visits to restaurants where certain dishes have been described as completely inedible, but I have always dismissed such pronouncements as pure hyperbole, the work of a desperate hack on the sniff for the diverting phrase.
As far as I could see it was impossible for something made of food to be inedible. Sure, you might not like what you've been given. You might wish that you had been given something else. There is even one member of my family who, if given something he doesn't like, will push it back out with his tongue. But then he's only 16 months old. For an adult to find it impossible to put in their mouth any more of that which is on their plate seemed to me more a question of good manners than the edibility of the food in question. (This is why I am a restaurant critic: I am a greedy pig.)
And then, as I say, the ham-shank stew turned up. It was served in the simple café-cum-restaurant at the back of Valvona & Crolla, a stunning Italian delicatessen situated just on the edge of Edinburgh's New Town, and it was that location more than anything else which made me want to be able to write a good review. Anybody who loves food should visit Valvona & Crolla at least once in their lives. It is an extraordinary place, plump with Italian goodies, many imported direct from Milan twice a week. There are vertiginous walls of the very best egg pastas; shelves of freshly baked breads and counters stuffed full of beautiful, glossy fruit and vegetables, hams and salamis, cheeses and sauces and wines. The shop comes laden with awards, and rightly so.
It struck me as impossible that a place which stocked such fabulous raw materials could make a bad fist of cooking them and serving them up in the restaurant at the back. That would take real talent. Wouldn't it? Perhaps. I went with Ruaridh, my usual Edinburgh eating companion, who had repeated the great things about Valvona & Crolla I had heard elsewhere: great, simple ingredients prepared with intelligence and moderately priced.
The menu backed that up. At lunchtime there is a choice between a standing list of stuffed sandwiches and a list of specials, each of which is partnered with a recommended wine, should you feel in the mood. From the starters I chose ricotta and anchovy tart at £4.95, which was less a tart than a soft, fluffy quiche, but fine for all that. The ricotta was soft and luxurious and it was spun through with capers and fibrous lumps of anchovy. I was happy.
Ruaridh was a little less impressed by his starter of rigatoni with tomato and meatballs (£6.95). It was obvious that the sauce had been made with the finest tomatoes but there was also something altogether too dignified and understated about it. Ruaridh looked at me a little apologetically. 'It's just a bit bland,' he said.
For my main course I chose the pizza alla fonteluna, made with dough straight from the Valvona & Crolla bakery and decorated with spicy pork sausage prepared to their own recipe. It, too, was fine, if a little soggy and, again, understated. You want a spicy pork sausage pizza to make its presence felt, but it didn't have the energy to do so. And then came Ruaridh's ham-hock stew, braised with carrots, celery and tomatoes and served with soft polenta.
Perhaps someone had forgotten to soak the ham hocks. Perhaps someone didn't know it was necessary. Perhaps it was prepared by someone robbed of the requisite taste buds by a tragic accident in childhood involving industrial quantities of Marmite and pickling vinegar. Whatever the reason, the dish was so salty that it genuinely was - and I say this with huge sadness - completely inedible. As in nasty.
Ruaridh tried to plough on for a bit but, after about four forkfuls, he laid down his cutlery. It could not be done. As we were paying, we said the stew hadn't been up to scratch and, to their credit, they knocked £2 off the bill. (Though, frankly, a full refund on that dish would have been in order.) What staggers me is that it left the kitchen in that state without anybody noticing.
These things happen, of course. I still find it hard to believe such a store of raw materials should serve less than fabulous food. I am expecting - hoping even - to receive messages from die-hard Valvona & Crolla fans who have never had a bad experience. And I am sure they'll be telling me the truth. The problem is I can only write as I find and on the day I went what I found wasn't at all good. And all I can say is: damn and blast.
Contact Jay Rayner on jay.rayner@observer.co.uk.
