Just 1.8 miles from the epicentre of Leith (the Bar formerly known as Home’s) lies a French restaurant called Chez Pierre. To say there have been mixed reviews about Pierre Levicky’s latest venture would be a wholly inadequate understatement. On one website, some rave whilst others rant. Plus ça change as the other half of our famous Auld Alliance might say, and in M. Levicky’s case, this is very apt.

Many of you will have memories of Pierre Victoire’s, Pierre Levicky’s previous incarnation in Edinburgh (and if they are like mine, they will be fond). It opened in 1988 on Victoria Street and was quickly followed (too quickly as it happens) by a chain of 100 franchised eateries around the UK. ‘Cash-flow’ problems ensued for this groundbreaking concept of good, simple food sold in homely surroundings, so the donkeys (i.e. the bank) pulled the plug. Now, some of the more financially astute readers might suggest that such events tend to be more complex than that – more nuanced. But the bottom line is it went bust with most of the staff losing their jobs, and the rest of us being deprived. Pierre abandoned Scotland, leaving his sister (first at Blue, then Café Marlayne) to fly the family flag; and she did, and continues to do so, with credit.

Mr Holmes’s grandson informed him, “this restaurant has good teachers and the ice cream moved too.”...

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When Pierre returned to open his eponymous restaurant in early 2008, I was eager to try it. But on the first visit I wasn’t impressed. So, some 6 months later, at the suggestion of a friend who’s generally more interested in the wine than the food, I returned half-heartedly for Sunday lunch; and it was excellent. My grandson, Sonny, a 3-year-old gourmand at the time who would accept only the finest extra virgin olive oil with his French baguette, was given free chips and he pronounced them “grrrreat!” Or at least I think that was his pronouncement. He had his mouth full of hot, properly cooked and seasoned frites and was attempting to shovel in some more before Karen and Grampa could get their mitts on a single one. “That’s yours,” he said, pointing to a plate of salad, whilst surreptitiously moving the chip plate out of our line-of-sight.

Fanciful Gallic shrugs
And so it’s been pretty much every time since. The menu complets is a joy and just how Sunday lunch should be but seldom is. Our latest visit was again with Sonny, now an all-grown-up 4-year-old. He still enjoys the good olive oil and bread but don’t even try to tempt him with prawns, or mussels, or pate. And offer him an oyster and he’ll look at you as if you’ve just suggested that Kris Boyd is a better finisher than Fernando Torres. But the chips! If it came down to Daddy or chips, sorry Kevin, you’d be a distant second.

And the rest wasn’t too dusty either. The menu complets on offer this particular Sunday was a shared tapa of tempura prawns with a sweet chilli jam and garlic mayo, dressed salad leaves, and a choice of deep fried sole in fresh breadcrumbs with smoked salmon, fries and aioli, or roast chicken with baby roast potatoes and green beans. Except the kitchen had run out of potatoes and beans, so the chicken came with chips and extra salad instead. In a less welcoming, more expensive joint, I might have expressed mild displeasure, but in Chez Pierre I simply gave what I fancied to be a Gallic shrug, and got stuck in. The fact that the menu complets costs a recession-friendly £6.90 (including coffee) certainly helped.

Most of it was very good, and surely the best value for money in Edinburgh. Although I must say, the smoked salmon with deep fried sole seemed a bit of an odd couple, and didn’t work for me. We added a homemade country terrine (£2.60) to share along with the tapa starter, which was a good meat-loaf-type of pork terrine that also came with salad leaves, but without the very good gherkins I recalled from previous visits. We finished with crepe suzette with “vallina” (Sonny assured us) ice cream (£4.40) plus a scoop of vallina ice cream (£1) for Sonny. The crepe was fine and ice cream was Luca’s, and therefore the duck’s quack.

If there was a lowlight of the meal, it would be the Chilean Cabernet Sauvignon, which was drinkable but, at £17.10, overpriced. I recommend sticking to the house wines.

As we surveyed the table full of empty plates at the end of the meal (it was a bit messy because we’d had an impromptu game of Catch the Tissue, whose objective changed about 12 times in 7 minutes to reflect Sonny’s emerging thoughts on the ‘rules’), the wee laddie sat back in his chair and declared, “this has got good teachers because the food was beautiful, and the ice cream moved too.” High praise indeed, if a little esoteric.

If you go, and you should, you’ll join a loyal band of locals flocking to support the re-branded, 2010 version of good, simple, excellent value French food with a twist. You can then claim to be one of those who help this place go from strength to strength – perhaps even to expand, though preferably slowly – rather than one of the donkeys.
As we walked home through the darkening evening, Sonny started to sing a song. It was to the tune of jingle bells but was about a taxi, and went as follows,

Taxi car, taxi car, driving all the way,
oh what fun it is to ride a taxi…
dah, dah, dah, dah, day.
Ohhhhhhhhhhhh….
taxi car, taxi car,
Santa Claus ding-dong,
ding-dong, ding-dong, ding-dong,
ding-dong, taxi all the way.

I think he’d had a premonition that it was about to rain, and it did. So we jumped in a taxi home and that really made his day. And mine, because I’m normally not allowed such extravagance.

Score :
15/20

Damage : £48.85
(for two-and-a-half people, including wine)

Sonny’s score: Eleventeen/20

Chez Pierre
18 Eyre Place
Edinburgh, EH3 5EP
0131 556 0006