Walking by means of Aberdeen one sunny Saturday lunchtime, I discovered Cafe 52 in a cobbled courtyard, simply opening for lunch. The menu was stuffed with delicious-sounding issues reminiscent of cullen skink, scorching smoked mackerel, and Normandy hen casserole with leeks and tarragon. As I loitered by the door, one thing in regards to the cafe’s title rang a bell, then, to my glee, I realised this was the place whose proprietor famously doesn’t like Guardian readers, and who earlier this 12 months penned a job advert banning them. Maybe I ought to have been offended, however there was a bread-and-butter pudding made with crumpets on the menu, plus, to cite Groucho Marx, “I refuse to hitch any membership that might have me as a member.”
No chef really needs to see a restaurant critic waddle into view the second they start service, dip a finger within the demi-glace to examine its consistency and behave as if a chilly plate is the nadir of struggling, so I discovered it moderately refreshing that the chef/proprietor right here had already set out his stall that he had no time for my ilk. This charming, lengthy, slender strip of a bistro has survived for greater than 25 years with out the likes of me, and is today serving a form of boho, rustic, French-Scottish, casual-elegant menu to a endless stream of walk-ins. Cafe 52 has no want for my pronouncements.
One of many very pretty servers squeezed me in ever so politely as a desk for one and left me listening to Since You’ve Been Passed by Rainbow whereas attempting to decide on between the marinated herring with soured cream and walnuts and the portobello mushrooms cooked in cider. Might this actually be the identical controversial cafe? I popped to the women to scrub my fingers and located it freshly painted, a spotless sink, pleasant hand cleaning soap and a big framed photograph of Mom Teresa bearing the phrases “At all times wash your minge”. Sure, this should be the place.
I like Aberdeen an amazing deal, and spent three fantastic days there alone, speaking to strangers and consuming: on the vegan Cafe Bonobo, the place the thinly sliced carrot “smoked salmon” bagels are pleasant; at steakhouse Vovem Meat & Liquor for pulled brisket mac ’n’ cheese; earlier than heading farther afield to The Silver Darling on Pocra Quay for tempura oyster with wasabi.
However Cafe 52 was my favorite. Proprietor Steve Bothwell might need little time for “liars” and “bullshitters”, as he says in that advert, however he has created a spot the place wonderful meals issues, and I can say past doubt that my restorative bowl of Normandy hen casserole can be one of many biggest issues I’ll eat all 12 months. Rooster soup – or stew, on this case – does contact the soul, and a superb one is as near a cuddle from Mom T herself as you will get. This one featured 5 or 6 chunks of sentimental, stewed breast, thigh and leg in a transparent tarragon broth with the very occasional chunk of sentimental potato or slice of garlicky mushroom, and was far more than the sum of its elements. This stew, topped with a vivid pink bundle of pickled pink cabbage, was a surprise, with aromatic tarragon the hero ingredient. I ate it with a aspect of kale, deep fried and laced with chilli, which is the one method to deal with it – that's, mercilessly, in any other case it’s actually solely good for hamster bedding.
Bothwell’s octogenarian mom makes all of the puddings at Cafe 52, and simply two spoons into her crumpet bread-and-butter pudding I felt the necessity to examine with the employees if anybody had written down the recipes for her carrot and brandied fruit cake or her espresso cake with rum syllabub. The bread pudding is a fearsome, rib-sticking problem of a dessert, with crumpet after crumpet smothered in candy, eggy custard and served with vanilla ice-cream. It’s the form of dish that makes visitors at different tables wink and need me luck, as if I used to be some form of novice at this recreation. The primary 4 or 5 spoons had been elegant, all sticky and compelling; I used to be residing my finest life. After that, nonetheless, the going acquired powerful. It felt ungracious to loosen my bra on the desk, so I swiftly pencilled in a day nap.
It was at this level that the proprietor noticed me and made his means within the route of my desk. Oh pricey, I assumed, that is the place issues get much more tasty. “Yer stew all proper?” he requested, semi-begrudgingly, as if he didn’t actually care what the reply was going to be, however was curious anyway.
“Unimaginable,” I stated. “I beloved it.”
“Effective,” he stated, and walked off with out one other look in my route. I've paved a means for all of us. Simply don’t go in carrying this newspaper.
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