Here we have a tale of two kitchens. Or of one Kitching and one Kitchin: there is Paul Kitching of 21212 (pictured) and Tom Kitchin of The Kitchin, and Edinburgh is lucky to have both of them.
Paul Kitching moved northwards after he and his partner, Katie O'Brien, had sold Juniper in Altrincham, one of the oddest places to find one of the most idiosyncratic restaurants in the British Isles. Paul was famous, notorious maybe, for the eclecticism of his ingredients (it was quite possible to find cucumber, banana and sweetbreads sharing a plate, or Horlicks with foie gras and hare) and for sending out multiple courses on a whim and a prayer (24 or more weren't unknown). It was a pity, in a way, because, although this gained him a Michelin star and plenty of dotty publicity, this playfulness disguised the considerable technical ability underpinning his prodigious creativity.
Anyway, roll forward a year or so, and he and Katie have opened a rather swanky restaurant with rooms in one of Edinburgh's most handsome terraces. Gone are the multiple-course extravaganzas – that 21212 refers to the number of choices available at each stage of the lunch or dinner: two first courses; one second course; two main courses; cheese; two puddings. And you don't have to eat all of those if you don't want to. It's priced at £20 for two courses, £30 for three, £40 for four and £50 for five.
This, in itself, might be interpreted as gimmicky, but in fact it works in favour of the eater. Instead of being tempted and confused by the conventional range of dishes, it's easier to put together a balanced meal, which you can see being assembled in the open kitchen.
Not everything has changed with Kitching, though. He's not a man to use one ingredient when 15 will do. So the soup course had a layer of pea purée beneath a layer of split pea foam, macadamia nuts, golden sultanas and a wafer of dried yogurt. The first course of summer vegetable ragout, bayonne ham and morels had white asparagus, tête de moine cheese, shallots, a wafer thin slice of dried Granny Smith apple and curls of explosively flavoured sage leaves. This may all seem like merry mayhem and might be were it not for Kitching's ability to balance flavours and textures. His dishes resemble exquisite mobiles, different aspects of which reveal themselves as you munch your way through. It will not be food for everyone, but for my money it is some of the most highly characterised, beautifully realised, best-value cooking in the UK.
Tom Kitchin's cooking is no less accomplished but, I suspect, a touch more accessible, more in keeping with classic French haute cuisine. Not that Kitchin is a poncey cook. He is a straightforward chef who marshals his ingredients with a sure sense of direction. His menu and his dishes celebrate the beauty of Scottish ingredients. So there are Orkney scallops, spoots (razor clams) from Arisaig, Anstruther crab, Perthshire rabbit and gooseberries from Blacketyside Farm. For some of these he turns to classic combinations. The scallops are teamed with an orange and endive tart with a spiced sauternes sauce. The rabbit is filled with spinach, with a ravioli of leg meat, and lettuce and carrot.
He can let rip with less orthodox combinations, too. The spoots were steamed, chopped and mixed with diced veg, chorizo and lemon confit, a fabulously delicate waltz of sweet and sour, soft and crunchy. Crisp ox tongue was matched with braised tripe and red pepper à la Basquaise in an apotheosis of offal. This is top-dog cooking powered by flavour and youthful exuberance under the control of immaculate technical skill. Suddenly, after years of not exactly racy restaurant life, Edinburgh is looking decidedly zippy.