Edo Restaurant
3 Capital House Unit 2
Upper Queen Street
Belfast
028 9031 3054
edorestaurant.co.uk
AMONG the bullet points on the CV of Jonny Elliott, chef at Edo in Belfast city centre, is a stint running the kitchen on a Russian billionaire’s yacht as it sailed round the Mediterranean.
He’s also spent time with big names Gary Rhodes and Gordon Ramsay and local favourites Balloo House, and Home, but none of that seems anywhere near as exciting.
Imagine whipping up an oligarch’s eggs Benedict in between well-done steaks with tomato ketchup for the occasional American visitor as elections are getting sorted out on the upper decks. Well, you’d have to imagine it because it definitely never happened. Never. Definitely. Never.
Back in the real world, that pan-Mediterranean experience is all over Edo, which the website informs you is pronounced ‘Aye-Doh’ and, rather than being on over-here tribute to Homer Simpson, is actually Latin for ‘I eat’.
The emphasis is on small, sharing, tapas-type offerings, mainly Spanish but not exclusively. So, while there are padron peppers, tortillas, Iberico ham and paella, there is also Italian bresaola and a couple of pasta dishes, as well as moules frites from much further north and bigger, main course-sized offerings like barbecue ribs, sweet potato and braised corn or roast salmon and crushed herb potatoes that could come from anywhere.
There are a couple of steaks on offer too and it’s understandable that allowing folk to order what might be considered a proper feed on one big plate rather going full-blown tapas would keep as many people as possible happy and keep them coming through the doors.
When you do come through the doors you find a very sleek, modern room, perhaps unwittingly accentuating its European credentials in blue and gold, stretching back from the hustle of what appears to be the busiest bus stop in Belfast, with a long banquette running down one side and what amounts to a bar overlooking an open kitchen on the other.
It's very swish but it’s also substantial, and that’s thanks to the food. Eschewing those bigger plates, which run from £10 for the mussels and chips, £14 for the admittedly fantastic-sounding beef cheeks and cauliflower, and £26 for the steaks, some guidance is sought from the helpful, knowledgeable staff about just how many wee things to order without looking like a pair of gorbs.
Full disclosure: that’s my wife’s concern. I’ve no problem looking like a gorb but I do suffer from a pathological fear of under-ordering.
After consideration of our choices, the waiter reckons it should be plenty, especially as the sardines on toast are a fair size. But sure, if you’re still hungry you can always order another plate, he tells us. A prince among men, that fella.
So, as well as the sardines, there’s chicharron – cubes of pork belly the colour of the American president who’s never met a Russian in his life, honest – crisp on the outside and falling apart within, and a soft-shell crab meeting the same textural specifications, with the battered shellfish on top of a salty tangle of shredded cabbage to cut through its richness.
Those sardines, for £7.50, were indeed a hefty portion, with a couple of the charred fish sitting on top of a serious wedge of grilled bread. At first glance the tomato sauce on the bread appeared to be one thing too many on the plate, but it worked well, the sardines standing up to the sweetness and the excellent toast soaking up the whole thing.
Patatas bravas were crisp and hot, the cubes of spud sitting between two sauces made for being sopped up with more of that bread – a sweet romesco on the bottom and a vivid, spiky saffron aioli over the top.
All that did turn out to be enough. Except for desert, which doesn’t count. That was also a multinational affair with rum baba, crema catalana, churros and affogato among the choices for £4 or £5.
The churros were good, being as hot and sweet and crisp as you could ask, while the baba was better, the sponge combining a light crumb with the density that only comes from every molecule being saturated with its slightly boozy syrup.
Being tucked behind a Belfast bus stop may not be quite as glamourous as life on a superyacht the size of City Hall, but look beyond the double deckers and you’ll find some very good stuff.
THE BILL
Chicharron £6
Soft shell crab £6.50
Sardines on toast £7.50
Patatas bravas £3
Churros £4
Rum baba £5
San Pellegrino x2 £5
Total £42
