A couple of years ago I was in Perth meeting business colleagues in a city centre hotel. Even before I checked in they told me we needed to go out to eat. There was nothing wrong with the fare on offer but the hotel was full of people from bus tours all wanting fed at the same time. My companions were looking for something quieter and perhaps a bit more adventurous.
I was doubtful. It was getting late in the evening, we hadn’t a clue about where was good in Perth and I had seen nowhere obvious on my way to the hotel. Worse, it was tipping down. This was no summer shower, this was a monsoon of biblical proportions. This was not the weather in which to search for a restaurant.
We agreed we would go out but whatever eatery we came to first was where we would dine. We would not care what it looked like – we would just go in and give it a chance.
Fortune was clearly favouring us that night. No sooner had we begun to wade upstream than we saw the welcoming lights of a classy looking place offering us refuge. And that was the first time I found Pig’Halle.
This was a little bit of Paris in Perth. Its décor, the music, the waiting staff and menu just reeked of a traditional French bistro. It was so French it was possible to imagine it was the Seine that was flowing by a street away, not the silvery Tay.
So why was it, having had such a fantastic experience, it had taken me two years to come back? I had mentioned it often enough and on several occasions my partner and I had promised we must visit. I was keen to show that it was indeed a wee gem of a place and not a figment of my imagination. But finally we got our act together and booked for Sunday lunch while heading back North. The weather could not have been more different than on my first visit with the sun splitting the skies on a wonderfully warm day. But Pig’Halle was still the same. Still quintessentially, unrepentantly and wonderfully French.
The deep red upholstered bistro chairs, shining glassware and crisp white table linen looked fabulous. The huge wall mirror showing the map of the Paris metro and a few tasteful prints of Parisian scenes left you in no doubt what this establishment was offering. And it did not disappoint. I could have happily eaten from the fixed price lunch menu at a very reasonable £11.90 for 2 courses or £14.90 for 3 but we decided to push the boat out.
The French onion soup would, I am sure have been fantastic as would the mussels or scallops but today was an occasion for something a bit more unusual. I picked the mini steak tartare while my partner (having thought seriously about the snails cooked in bone marrow) eventually chose frog’s legs. My tartare of minutely diced filet mixed with capers and spring onion was topped with a little quail’s egg and was perfect. My partner’s frog’s legs were served in a wonderfully light batter with aioli. He loved them – like chicken with a more delicate flavour and finer texture. The batter did not overwhelm this very subtle dish and there was plenty of it.
For mains I went for the Assiette Pig’Halle with beautifully roasted suckling pig, the sweetest crispy pork belly, slices of Iberian pork and French black pudding. It came drizzled in a delicious calvados jus with hand cut fries. In typically Parisian fashion the only concession to veg was a sprig of flat leaf parsley but on this occasion I was not caring. It was carnivore heaven. The reasonably priced Merlot was a great accompaniment.
My partner went for the roast lamb from the specials board and was not disappointed. Full flavoured succulent lamb with creamy potato dauphinois served with beautifully cooked carrots and broccoli in a full-flavoured burnt onion sauce. He has great fondness for soufflé and an equal appreciation of raspberries, so to find the soufflé of the day was raspberry made the decision easy. I went for the chocolate fondant with poached pear which was fabulous. The soufflé however was spectacular with what was described as the best raspberry sauce ever. A tiny criticism, that it was ever so lightly undercooked in places, didn’t spoil his pleasure – it still tasted divine. I have visited Paris and occasionally been disappointed with the overpriced and mediocre food many of the cafes and bistros serve. Pig’Halle would give many in the French capital a run for their money and must be one of the finest French bistros in Scotland.
