Every plate of food that lands on our table at Moss is a work of art. It feels almost savage to ruin the beauty of a sculptural waffle served steaming hot on a craggy stone with your knife and fork, or smudge the carefully placed dollops of white carrot puree placed around handsome slices of venison like a pointillist portrait. Even the ‘local leaves’ side salad arrives as an artfully strewn tapestry of green that wouldn’t look out of place at Frieze. Usually, dishes topped with edible flowers and extravagant drizzles of jus equate to style over substance, but here, every precisely sprinkled garnish and blob of sauce only adds to the ethos of Moss, which solely uses Scottish produce, much of which is sourced from the restaurant’s own organic farm in Angus (a handy tracing paper overlay on the menu explains where each ingredient has come from). Even the drinks list is exclusively British.
As the dishes arrive from head chef Henry Dobson’s kitchen, you realise each one is a brilliant exercise in Scottish patriotism, and his team of gregarious staff expertly explain the origins and spirit of each plate, which all reflect the beauty of the Scottish countryside and its folklore through intriguing touches like Douglas fir-flavourings and mousse laced with Scottish blue cheese. We’re treated to a fascinating discussion about Scottish-grown sea algae as the cured halibut with blue spirulina is placed in front of us. The beetroot panacotta, meanwhile, is a glorious cacophony of earthy vegetal flavours with pops of unexpected spices thanks to the addition of a comforting Christmas cake miso and walnut cookie taco.
Dobson cut his teeth at Copenhagen’s Noma and has also spent time in Japan, so it’s no surprise that Nordic and Japanese touches pepper his food. It only serves to elevate the local produce and keep you guessing at what new touch on a Scottish classic will appear next as you work your way through each course. Pleasingly neat cubes of barbequed sea trout melt on the tongue with a subtle saline hit from the pepper dulse and shoreline herb garnish. While every forkful of the heady smoked venison main feels like you’re physically consuming the Scottish countryside, thanks to the fragrant splodges of fir and honey berry-infused puree, and the sharp crunch of the smoked tattie and leek. We finish with a gossamer-light strawberry shortcake baked in a Japanese style and finished with a thick smear of sweet diplomat cream and a contrasting side of moreishly sharp berries and herbs. It’s a perfectly paced meal, full of unexpected touches and with a side of waiter commentary that makes you really savour each mouthful.
The restaurant’s Caledonian passion even extends to the restaurant floor. The tables are crafted from the Angus farm’s wood and laid with crockery made from its soil. Jars of herbs and spices line the walls like an old-fashioned apothecary, and a lichen-covered branch from Perthshire hangs from the ceiling to complete the rustic, homespun atmosphere. As you leave you’ll feel like you’ve just been on an exhilarating ride through the Cairngorms: all-consuming, full of surprises and a whole lot of fun. This is food that wears its passion for Scotland on its sleeve and isn’t afraid to be playful about it.
The vibe Cosy, fine dining that wears its passion for Scotland and sustainability on its sleeve.
The food Local Scottish produce transformed into artfully inspired dishes full of surprising flavours and fusion twists.
The drink A list of exclusively British wines and beer, with fermented juice and soda, and even a rare Scottish-grown tea.
Time Out tip: Save room for the complimentary Irn Bru candyfloss – a delicious full stop at the end of each meal.