Murray Chalmers finds a hidden gem in Kinross where a spectacular setting meets delicious food.
Grouse and claret might feel like a combination somewhat out of time right now, given that we’re still eating strawberries whilst enjoying enough summer sun to banish lockdown’s ghostly, haunted pallor – a look so 2021 that it became as universal as Adidas stripes, 10lb weight gains and hangovers on a Tuesday.
But, to the incredulity of my friends in London, I last lit a log fire in my house just a few weeks ago – albeit not so much for the heat as for the dreich-dispelling cheery glow only a living flame can provide on a miserably sunless summer’s day.
On such dolorous days a ballsy red in the glass seems much more apt than a Provencal rosé, which is really all about the promise of Breton-striped sunshine in a country we can’t now visit without trying to lose the rosbif cloak of shame – we Scots frantically remembering 1295 and the Auld Alliance whilst hoping that the fading light at the end of the tunnel is the EU still holding a torch for us.
Glorious twelfth
However, without sounding at all curmudgeonly, August 12 is getting closer and the grouse season will soon be upon us. Then we might as well start dusting those Christmas ornaments, hoping that our funny old clown Johnson has got his sums right and that the freedom offered by him isn’t in fact based on George Michael’s classic song where “all we have to do now, is take these lies and make them true”. Plus ça change.
So many restaurants to visit! So much mischief to cause, albeit at a more sedentary pace than in the defiant protest march that was my youth.
Why does time march so swiftly as we age? Just when I want the most quality time on this planet, when I feel like I’m starting to make sense of my place in this world, I’m about to turn 62 and yet – cliche time – I feel more like 26. Reluctantly, I have to admit to being an adult.
However, the last 18 months have been spent in such limbo that we oldies surely deserve some kind of refund, which I think would work best as a two-year life extension granted on judgment day, a little admission of negligence just like you’d have been offered had Pavarotti forgotten to turn up at a Three Tenors show. So much to do!
So many restaurants to visit! So much mischief to cause, albeit at a more sedentary pace than in the defiant protest march that was my youth.
Like an old friend
The Grouse and Claret is a restaurant that knows its market so well and is so ridiculously comfortable within its own skin that going there feels like visiting an old friend.
It’s old school in the way that a well-cooked cheese souffle is old school, in the way that a pre-lunch drink in the garden is old school, and in the way that chicken liver pate with chutney and toast is – a warm blanket of culinary comfort which makes visiting there both slightly anachronistic and completely delightful.
This is the kind of place that is definitely grown up and, although I’m sure this wasn’t actually the case, David and I felt like we were the youngest people in the room. The delusions of vintage youth!
This is by no means a criticism because, just as Radio 3 becomes infinitely preferable to Radio 4, and the FT becomes more essential than The Independent, being grown up is something that sits as comfortably on older bones as a favourite cashmere cardigan from M&S.
Grown up is the difference between service which is charming, knowing and caring and that which is surly and treats the customer as an inconvenience, a number to be processed.
Grown up is an owner who greets the customers and who walks round the tables chatting at the end of the meal. Grown up is fresh mint in jugs of iced water. Grown up is serving a prawn cocktail and not trying to reinvent it. Grown up is patio furniture on a beautiful lawn overlooking a trout lake.
All of this is here at the Grouse and Claret and all of this is so, so welcome in 2021. The restaurant, part of an estate which includes the popular fishing lake, is tucked away down a narrow lane directly opposite the Kinross service station.
Far away
We had driven past it so many times that it was almost embarrassing to realise that I could have driven there without the use of satnav; you simply head for the service station but turn left instead of right as you turn off the M90 on to the A977.
Try not to be distracted by the infamous alien Sputnik golf ball; this decommissioned spy base just up the road dominates the landscape in a way that will make you empathise with the strange ones in the dome from Bowie’s “Drive in Saturday” as you wonder who on earth – or in space – would buy such a thing. Surreal!
The Grouse and Claret is about as far away as you can get from motorway service stations and spooky giant golf balls. The first surprise is the garden, which is verdant, the planting framing the fishing lake so beautifully that we chose to eat there.
On a sunny day, which this was, I can think of nowhere more delightful. This is a place that aims to please, where nothing seems too much trouble. When we arrived a local workman had just come in and asked if he could have two burgers to take away.
As he enthused about the place, it was impossible not to be swayed by his exuberance; it was only when we saw the menu that I realised burgers didn’t feature on it and yet this regular customer got what he wanted.
The young staff were well trained, knowledgeable and friendly. Service was perfect. The setting was wonderful. All that had to happen now was for the food to be good – and it was.
The food
From a menu that changes daily I ordered very simply. My traditional prawn cocktail (£7) was just that, and all the better for it. Here I quote from Simon Hopkinson and Lindsay Bareham’s now classic The Prawn Cocktail Years: “You shouldn’t muck about too much with a prawn cocktail.
Homemade mayonnaise is clearly ideal here but homemade tomato sauce is quite definitely not: the taste of fresh tomato does not a prawn cocktail make. However hard one tries, it is not possible to replicate the taste of Heinz tomato ketchup. No other will do.”
I have made the classic prawn cocktail from this book and have to say that the version served in the Grouse and Claret was just as classic and just as good.
David had to have the cheese souffle (£9) – not just because it was billed as “our famous cheese souffle” but because I too wanted to taste it as a test of this kitchen’s skill. It was truly delicious, wobbly, cheesy, unctuously filling – everything you want from a soufflé really. So far, so good.
My main course was sea bass with salsa verde (£16) which was simple and delicious, the bass fillets served on some crushed potatoes. The salsa verde could have been a little sharper, a little more pungent but this wasn’t to the detriment of the dish.
For his main, David chose a starter of a goat’s cheese mousse with beetroot salad (£7) and again this was accomplished cooking, the delicacy of the mousse perfectly balanced, with the salad providing a good counterpoint. Side dishes of roasted, cubed potatoes and some greens were spot on, the greens notably well cooked.
You will probably have gathered by now that this isn’t food that’s trying to advance culinary boundaries, nor is it food that will surprise with unusual juxtapositions. This place isn’t about that.
What you get here is a kind of greatest hits of popular dishes, many of which have been infra dig at different times over the last few decades and yet which have remained stalwarts of bistro menus up and down the country.
Thus you have crab and avocado salad (£9) and smoked trout mousse wrapped in smoked salmon (£8). Mains offer a mushroom stroganoff (£12) which is straight out of a 1970’s dinner party, although the rice served then probably wasn’t basmati.
A green Thai chicken curry served with basmati is £16 and an escalope of pork with satay sauce is the same price. It was impossible not to affectionately remember my mum’s cherished cookery cards.
Haggis bonbons with a mustard mayonnaise (£8) are, I’m afraid, just too much of a 2020 Scottish cliche for me to tackle again for another decade.
Our dessert, from a fairly heavy selection, was a good, rich Eton Mess for £6.50.
The verdict
The Grouse and Claret is lovely. Excellent service, a spectacular setting outdoors (inside is a traditional conservatory/garden room addition) and good, reliable, unreconstructed food. Many of the customers seemed to be regulars and owner Vicki is a bubbly, welcoming presence who took over the business with her husband in 1992 and has made an obvious success of it since then. What they are aiming to provide here is good food made from good produce, presented with a lack of pretension. They definitely succeed.
Vicki and her chef husband David Fu Tong, now joined by their chef son Daniel, have created a small oasis here, one where enjoyment and the simple pleasure of good food are paramount.
This is a place to kick back and let the world slip by, enjoying tried and tested dishes that will simply provide you with something good to eat. It’s not about innovation and it’s not about a concept or a theme. As such, it’s a lovely discovery.
Info
Address: The Grouse and Claret, Heatheryford, Kinross. KY13 ONQ
T: 01577 864212
W: grouseandclaret.com
Price: £69.50
Score
- Food = 4/5
- Service = 5/5
- Surroundings = 4/5
