Contini Edinburgh // // // Chinese New Year

Chinese New Year


Celebrate Burns & Chinese New Year 2020 

新 年 快 乐

This year luck would have it that it falls on Burn’s night.

In celebration we have created a fantastic tasting menu available 16th January to 2nd February

BOOK YOUR TABLE HERE


Scottish Celebration Menu £42.50 per person

include half lobster £64.50pp

CANNONBALL CANAPE
Findlays haggis ball with Uncle Roy’s mustard served with a Glengoyne 10yo

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OYSTERS
Three Scottish oysters as they come served with red wine vinegar and shallot dressing or lemon and tabasco

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HOT SHELLFISH PLATTER
Scottish mussels and clams cooked in a garlic, parsley and white wine butter

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LEMON POSSET
Lemon posset with homemade shortbread


Finally, as it is the year of the rat, we’ll leave you with this very apt poem by the famous Scottish Bard…

To a Mouse

On Turning her up in her Nest, with the Plough, November 1785.

Wee, sleeket, cowran, tim’rous beastie,
O, what a panic’s in thy breastie!
Thou need na start awa sae hasty,
          Wi’ bickerin brattle!
I wad be laith to rin an’ chase thee
          Wi’ murd’ring pattle!
I’m truly sorry Man’s dominion
Has broken Nature’s social union,
An’ justifies that ill opinion,
          Which makes thee startle,
At me, thy poor, earth-born companion,
          An’ fellow-mortal!
I doubt na, whyles, but thou may thieve;
What then? poor beastie, thou maun live!
A daimen-icker in a thrave
          ’S a sma’ request:
I’ll get a blessin wi’ the lave,
          An’ never miss ’t!
Thy wee-bit housie, too, in ruin!
It’s silly wa’s the win’s are strewin!
An’ naething, now, to big a new ane,
          O’ foggage green!
An’ bleak December’s winds ensuin,
          Baith snell an’ keen!
Thou saw the fields laid bare an’ waste,
An’ weary Winter comin fast,
An’ cozie here, beneath the blast,
          Thou thought to dwell,
Till crash! the cruel coulter past
          Out thro’ thy cell.
That wee-bit heap o’ leaves an’ stibble
Has cost thee monie a weary nibble!
Now thou’s turn’d out, for a’ thy trouble,
          But house or hald,
To thole the Winter’s sleety dribble,
          An’ cranreuch cauld!
But Mousie, thou art no thy-lane,
In proving foresight may be vain:
The best laid schemes o’ Mice an’ Men
          Gang aft agley,
An’ lea’e us nought but grief an’ pain,
          For promis’d joy!
Still, thou art blest, compar’d wi’ me!
The present only toucheth thee:
But Och! I backward cast my e’e,
          On prospects drear!
An’ forward tho’ I canna see,
          I guess an’ fear!