I have never eaten lobster chez moi before. Beyond the 1 per cent and the Masterchef-hopeful, has anyone? This is the thought that hits me between the sensory faculties as my partner Claire and I smash stones kindly provided by Elie beach into speckled crimson claws. We reminisce about the days when we did such outlandish things such as eating seafood in villages strung along the golden mantle of Fife’s East Neuk. When we could go places. When we were care/child/covid-free. They should put a warning on the Harbour Café’s food boxes: may induce complex feelings of nostalgia.
I’ve never been to the restaurant: an elegant beach hut filled with long wooden tables and elemental light streaming in from giant windows. Beyond is Scotland’s riviera, the historic harbour town where for decades the classes that can have flocked from Edinburgh every summer to their holiday homes presiding over the curved bay. Lucky devils. It’s fair to assume that the food is going to be classy, great and expensive.
These days, the Harbour Café, owned by chef-patron Amy Elles of Great British Menu fame and her husband Jack, is running a slick home delivery service. The boxes are classic and luxurious. Oysters and champagne, fruits de mer, smorgasbords, feasting boxes, and most recently added, a caviar box that comes with spoons made of mother-of-pearl. There are add-ons, from oyster knives to Arbroath smokies. We keep it simple and go for the Harbour Café Box for two. It costs £80 for six langoustines, two dressed half-lobsters, and various bits and bobs. I assume a bottle of something crisp and natural will be included in the price but I’m mistaken, plus delivery is an extra tenner. I think this is ungenerous. For £90 you should get wine, or a half-bottle of fizz, or at least some smoked mackerel pâté.
The box arrives on a Friday mid-morning, its precious contents cosseted in ice packs, which means it doesn’t need to be chilled or even eaten on the day. Phew. No need for me to panic-empty the fridge or buy a freezer full of ice. Instead, our box of delights sits on our kitchen worktop all day, emanating the faintest perfume of the sea, the most effortless of aperitifs. The instructions say the food should be consumed within three days but come on, this is the food of kings, fresh from the market at Pittenweem. The least we can do is eat the lot during a single Friday night feeding frenzy.
We start with langoustines. Six charismatic cousins of the lobster, robustly sized, shiny-eyed, and perfectly cooked to a crustacean shade of orange-pink. We use little wooden sticks to prise out the tails, crack the claws with the stones, and eat them as is, with nothing more than a kiss of lemon. The stones assist in the gentle teasing out of seaside memories and the cracking of claws. The meat is so fresh, soft and sweet I don’t even bother with the channel wrack salt provided. Scotland doesn’t get better than this. Well, apart from eating them on a sunny day in the East Neuk.
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After this, the lobster is — whisper it — a bit samey. A langoustine by another name, which I realise makes me sound like a spoilt git complaining her Louboutins are a bit tight. It comes dressed and cold, which makes sense but has me yearning for it warm, submerged in garlic butter. Look, it’s an East Neuk lobster. It’s amazing. We eat it with thick wobbly aioli, garden leaves drizzled with vinaigrette, and papas aliñás, Andalusian potatoes muddled with shallots and sherry vinegar, as divine as any you will find in the best tapas bars of Cadiz. Also thick slices cut from a half loaf of literally perfect sourdough and spread with a round of buttercup-yellow butter made in Edinburgh. It’s a delicious plate of food. It’s just that some Arbroath smokies, oysters, or slices of trout would have provided more variation, important in a seafood platter, than langoustine followed by lobster.
For dessert, the Spanish theme continues with the most rich, almondy, citrusy slice of tarta de Santiago, now my favourite bake of all time. In the Harbour Café it would probably be served with berries and a scoop of hut-made ice cream or cultured cream. At home, it is a race against time with my three-year-old to dispatch it (she wins).
Unfortunately during all the whacking and cracking I tear the provided place mats scrawled with instructions on how to eat crab, and scratch our dining table. Oops. Then again, it’ll be a story to tell. Remember the time when we had been locked down on-and-off for a year with two small children, one of whom is autistic, and I was grieving my mother’s death, and we ate langoustine and lobster in our own kitchen? Wow. theharbourcafe.co.uk
How it rated
Food 9
Total £90
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What we ate
The Harbour Café Box for two
½ loaf sourdough bread and butter
6 x langoustines
2 x dressed half-lobsters with aioli and lemon
Papas aliñás - Andalusian potato salad
East Neuk Market Garden green leaf salad and house dressing
Finishing salt
Tarta de Santiago
