In some of my normal fine dining “review” posts, I normally let the pictures speak for themselves.  However, there is a bit more to be said this time.  

The lighting in the restaurant was too dim for the newest of iPhones, so excuse the photo quality, but perhaps that in itself is foreshadowing.

1. Not given the option of a tasting menu

Typically, when I go to restaurants like Unalome, I am dining alone.  And while it may be unusual, this solo diner enjoys multi-course tasting menus. À la carte options are typically available, as well.  This time, when the menu was brought out, I was only given the à la carte menu.  Tables nearby had a trifold menu where I overheard diners discussing the vegetarian or normal tasting menu options.  However, my menu was only bifold giving me only à la carte options. 

Subsequent internet research confirmed my suspicions of a tri-fold menu, giving non-solo diners the option of the tasting menu.

I didn’t ask – I mistakenly assumed that the à la carte and tasting menu had the same items on it. However, when I ordered the tasting menu, there was a little surprise from my server, but also no additional effort to show me the tasting menu either.  

It’s also confusing that the à la carte menu says its 90£ per person, when the tasting menu is priced at 110£ pp. Why would the à la carte be charged per person?

2. Eating my tasting menu blind

Not having the menu was a real miss for me. I genuinely enjoy referring back to the menu and seeing if there were flavors that I overlooked in the first bite. It also took away from the built up excitement for the next course, as well.

I’m not sure if it’s the discomfort of a solo diner – I am all too familiar with this… Or that they were trying to give me space to enjoy my meal in peace.  Either way, I felt that the team spent less time explaining the nuances of each course to me.

Recall too, that I am eating these courses blind – having not received the menu… Later, I found a sample tasting menu online.  But in the moment, in the absence of a physical menu to refer to, the descriptions when the courses arrive should help to supplement that.  While I don’t expect the wait staff to explain every foam, every flower, or every puree in each course, I do hope for a little more explanation.  I overheard servers going into far more detail about each course and each item on the plate for other diners.

I tried to prompt my servers by asking questions as they checked on me, showing interest in the ingredients and hoping for more detail at the next course.  But, it didn’t quite work either.

3. I would’ve chosen different plating

Another thing that I found a little odd about my dining experience were the plating and cutlery (silverware) options provided.  It’s one of those things where if it’s done properly, you don’t think about it during your meal. But in reality, people spend effort in carefully and thoughtfully selecting the right bowl or plate for the particular dish.  My issue with this was that there were a few courses that were soupy or foamy in nature.  However, these were served in large, shallow pasta dishes (essentially).  It was really difficult to get the most out of your course in such a shallow dish.  

There was one course, where I really wanted a knife to cut the 2 small potatoes. Instead of a knife, I had a fork and a spoon (the rest of the dish was foamy and soupy). Not wanting to put a large chunk of potato into my mouth, I tried to carefully slice it with a fork and a spoon. There is no graceful way of doing this, and my spoon clamored down onto the plate with a thud both times I attempted this.

Luckily, it wasn’t just me. When nearby tables were served that course, I heard the familiar, loud thud as the spoon hit the plate.

4. Not the most creative dining experience

Besides the incredible food, part of the fun of fine dining experiences is the sheer creativity that chefs employ in imagining and creating their courses. Seeing how a chef can excite all your senses, not just taste, is what sets them apart in a league of their own.

However, 3 back-to-back courses were foamy and soupy. 

• The Orkney scallops had a white foam, along with pumpkin purée, pumpkin seed pesto, and maybe pickled pumpkin;
• Wild Perthshire Mushrooms, also had a white foam, a garlic soup, and two delicious but unknown sauces;
• North Sea Cod Loin with a white foam, and a cauliflower puree.

Don’t get me wrong, the flavors were rich and interesting, but the white foamy excitement of the Orkney scallops became a tired foam after the 3rd foam course.

5. Not paying homage to their food producers or sustainable food practices

“From our hand dived scallops to foraged cep mushrooms, we are passionate about sourcing the best ingredients, sustainably.”

I’m surprised to find this quote on their website, under the Sustainability section.

Part of the reason that I love the food experience in Scotland is this beautiful relationship between chef and food producers. Other restaurants have regaled me with tales of the farm that they get their fresh flowers from, or the fisherman that have supplied them with the freshest catch over the years. In some rare cases, I can even give you the name of the individual who hand dived the scallops on my plate. I mean, I did just travel to the end of the world to Shetland to meet the people behind the food there.

These are the stories that I live for in my food experience. The stories that humanize my food experience. To recognize the beauty and importance of every contribution in the local supply chain.

Even with the “Wild Perthshire Mushroom” course – I’d like to assume it was foraged in Perthshire’s big tree country, but even then, that’s an assumption. This would have been a good course to talk about sustainable food practices.

There are some restaurants that can weave these stories seamlessly throughout the dinner service without a second thought. And then, there are those restaurants that leave you guessing and scouring the internet for answers.

Parting Thoughts and lasting impressions on Unalome by Graeme Cheevers

Now at the end, I should start at the beginning.

Unalome (pronounced oon-a-lome) – the word itself is a Buddhist symbol which represents the winding path of life, which leads to an individual’s enlightenment.

As someone connected to the Buddhist community (I am not an actively practicing Buddhist), this symbol and its elegant representations feel misused as a brand name for a restaurant that doesn’t even explain its significance. To be honest, it feels almost as bad as backpackers in Bali or Bangkok who get this “cool” symbol tattooed on their body. But Unalome (the restaurant) has nothing to do with the symbol. They’ve just taken the word – the name. I’m fighting the urge to say that the name has been bluntly appropriated from Buddhist culture, with no regard to its meaning or significance.

Not knowing much about the chef’s culinary background, maybe Buddhism did inspire him to name a restaurant after a religious symbol… and if that’s the case, then PR needs to do a better job of communicating that.

A culturally sensitive person would not have began the restaurant introduction with the words, “Traditionally, a Buddhist symbol, Unalome…”. Let’s be very clear. It is not “traditionally” a symbol – it is a Buddhist symbol. Not traditionally, always. There is no other use for it other than Buddhist symbolism. Period.

(Plus, the symbol is an actual graphic shown above, not the name. Are we pretending that the name, Unalome, is the symbol?)

I am also cringing at the suggestion that naming the restaurant after a Buddhist concept has anything to do with the Japanese culture that inspired the menu. Not all Japanese are Buddhist, not all Buddhist are Japanese. And conceptually, Unalome (the symbol) is not a Japanese concept – it is Buddhist.

Can we please not mix and match Asian cultures and religions as we see fit?

As I went back through my photos and notes on this meal, I realized that my experience at Unalome was probably doomed from the start.

Not everyone has the blessing or fortune in life to always share great experiences with friends and family. I wasn’t able to have anyone join me for dinner that evening, and 98% of the time I am a solo diner. But this blurb, while trying to be inclusive, missed the mark. The shared experience of Unalome with your friends and family specifically excludes one demographic –

• Solo diners, i.e. ME.

By closing the menu blurb with the only reference to the meaning of the Unalome symbol (without explanation), you’ve diminished the symbol and a name to the punch line of your restaurant. When you are thanking me for joining you on this path to enlightenment, are you bowing at me with your hands in a praying position as well?

My dining experience at Unalome has nothing to do with enlightenment.

Sure, some dining experiences can be transcendental – but not this one.

To close, I would not pay 110£ in the future for a meal that left me confused and utterly disappointed, and reeling with twinges of cultural insensitivity.

Do yourself a favor and go around the corner in Finnieston to The Gannet, which is arguably a higher caliber meal in every respect. I haven’t written about my experiences at the Gannet because I’ve been busy this year, but The Gannet is everything that Unalome is currently not.

Or, if you’re looking for other fine dining experiences in Scotland that left outstanding impressions on me, check out:

• Inver Restaurants & Rooms – the only Michelin green star awarded restaurant in Scotland!
• Kinloch Lodge, award winning and tucked away on the Isle of Skye;
• A hidden gem in the Trossachs, Monachyle Mhor;
• The Three Chimneys on the Isle of Skye – tasting the land and the sea;
• and, coming soon – The Glenturret Lalique – the only whisky distillery with one Michelin Star.

Thank you for reading my unpopular opinion of Unalome by Graeme Cheevers, and a special shout out to the Twitter community for their encouragement to write about my experience!

Lannie

Lannie is a perpetual wanderer and loves to share her travel adventures and the food she eats along the way with everyone.  She works during the day while bouncing around the world and dreams about new places and faces at night!  She has a home on the magical Isle of Islay in Scotland, where the whisky flows freely and happily.

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