Piggs Bruntsfield Edinburgh It comes to me during a fat food critic moment pretty early on in this meal that the genius of Piggs surely can’t be the food, or the menu, both appearing surprisingly ho-hum. So it has to be the service. I mean, this place is mobbed tonight.
In case you’ve missed the Edinburgh buzz Piggs here is a mini-chain of tapas bars (two) yet a mini-chain where it’s extremely difficult to get a booking at either (I struggled anyway). And even if you land one of those little peachy tables with bar stools – they’re rationed to two-hour slots. Tonight, almost from the minute we take a seat, the staff are over like relentless charm bees.
“Been here before?”; “This is our daily specials chalk board.” Sure, I get it, the clock’s ticking. Let’s get the show on the road.
But throughout the evening those waiting staff stop, smile, ooze charm, chat, up-sell like they’ve been doing it all their lives, yet still impart such a sensation that they just enjoy their damn jobs that more than once I turn to Joe and mutter: are we missing something here? Stylish interior (Image: free) Has Brexit secretly been reversed and the Europeans have come back to show us it should be done? Nope. I checked earlier. Everybody in the place is getting carpet-bombed with the same tapas love.
The staff are,frankly, great. As for the food? Well, hands up here. I first looked at the menu and saw the immortal words: “How To Tapas” and not only felt a groan coming on, .