The floor is a bit sticky, but our small kitchen makes for a semi-decent dance studio.
I’m pulling out all the moves. He’s a bit Thunderbirds-like, with zero hip action and creepily elastic limbs. Still, we attempted a bit of pseudo bachata to the Spotify playlist that was provided by South American restaurant, 83 Hanover Street, when their owner, Juan, dropped off our meal.
Thanks to the music, assembling our dinner became a bit like the famous Morecambe & Wise breakfast scene, though without grapefruit slicing or cupboard door percussion, since everything had already been perfectly prepped.
You only need to do a bit of reheating, and there are simple chronological instructions provided for the “nuestro sabor en su casa” (our flavour in your home) six-course set sharing menu for two.
It was designed by this two-year-old restaurant’s executive chef, Phil Lynch, and you can collect from their venue on a Saturday, or book for Friday or Saturday delivery from 1-4pm, if you live within EH1-EH16.
There are also drinkies, and my new favourite summer cocktail – the pale pink honeydew pisco sour (£10 for two), which features ABA Pisco, Giffard Melon Liqueur, pineapple oleo, lime juice and Peychaud’s Bitters. Alternatively, you can order from their wine pairing suggestions, for a real kitchen party package.
As far as our brown paper bags full of grub go, the most substantial course was probably the choripan.
We have one each of this Argentine take on a hot-dog, which consists of soft brioche buns and chunky but airy chorizo sausages, as well as fixings including wet nibs of their house pickled dill cucumber, a scoosh of mustard, and a crunchy potpourri of crispy onions and chilli hoops.
There is a funfair in my mouth. I would persevere at the coconut shy if the prize was another of these.
Our chicken dish had arrived in a vacuum pack, also full of a dark red marinade, like a splash of rare AB negative. After 20 minutes in the oven, as promised we had six burnished and crispy wings, each infused by a nutty, smokey and sweetly hot merken sauce, with a frilly fascinator of chopped spring onions on the top. I’m usually a knife and fork kind of gal, but these are worth the scarlet fingertips.
We warmed up our four thick matchboxes of pre-griddled halloumi, which were livened by a skinnydip in plunge pools of Chilean tomato pebre or thick lime aioli.
Lovely, so the only item that had wilted en route was our helping of giant “pork scratchins”. The instructions said to crumble these up, but they had gone soft and chewy, like an open packet of Digestives. I guess they would have been a salty sprinkle over the cold heritage potato salad, which was coated in a pale pink mayonnaise, dotted with the occasional Gothically purple tattie, and came with a halved and gummy yolked soft boiled egg. We missed this step out and it was satisfying without the chicharrones.
Our final cold savoury dish, housed in a Vegware pot, consisted of a pleasant jumble of quinoa, various beans, butternut squash, discs of carrot, radish and coriander. However, among all the other vibrant flavours, proteins and colours, this option was rather neglected because it was relatively healthy and beige.
The party isn’t over. There’s still pudding. We refer to instruction number four. “Lastly, place the chocolate and chilli tart on your favourite plate, top with the salted caramel ice-cream and ENJOY! You might need a little dance after all this”.
To the sounds of Popcorn Andino by Chicha Libre, we slide our ice-cream out of the freezer. It was dreamy when scooped over our subtly spiced triangles of tart.
I’d say all that was a pretty spectacular feast for £35, especially since entertainment was provided.
We certainly did “ENJOY!” but no more dancing, thanks. We were both exhausted and my other half looked like his strings had been cut.
If you’re sampling 83 Hanover Street’s flavour at home, make sure to factor in a postprandial disco nap. n
83 Hanover Street, Edinburgh, (0131-225 4862, www.83hanoverstreet.com)
