RESTAURANT REVIEW 'Thai food with added oomph' - Ron Mackenna reviews Glasgow's Thai Bar & Restaurant
WELCOME back, the bubbly waitress says to my old mate Joe who responds with a look of surprised delight while I merely hoist a curious eyebrow.
WELCOME back, the bubbly waitress says to my old mate Joe who responds with a look of surprised delight while I merely hoist a curious eyebrow.
Perthshire Pork Loin was the main. The faintest of pink blushes just visible in the slices, black pudding encased in something crisp and moreish on the side, the whole dish draped with wilted greens, a dollop of a good mustard sauce, a puddle of a crisp apple goo, and a jus that would on its own be too salty but with the tender pork? Seasons perfectly.
Let’s rewind for a moment. I stumbled in here amidst the Ramadan rush at about 6.30pm. That moment when the sun goes down and people can break the fast they have been on during daylight hours.
Schiacciata? Potato bread. Cheese on top, grilled to a crisp, potato-flour-dough combo in the middle; firm, thick, kinda more-ish. Is it stodgy? Ooh, it teeters, skates, maybe even wobbles at moments, but somehow stays upright long enough to get eaten
The Malletsheugh is genuinely completely full tonight. A Tuesday night too. A dark, cold, bitter, Tuesday night in early March when there’s Champions League football on people’s tellies, in their homes, in the vast posh commuterland out there known as Newton Mearns.
We would definitely come back for this delicious braised Highland Wagyu shin. Even at £28.50. Maybe order up another portion of that potato dauphinoise, two cubes of fabulous layered potato.
Noto is also one of Edinburgh’s current food darlings. The accents around us tonight include Morningside, of course, but a lot of Americans too. Anyway, the food in here never really stops coming. No perceptible delay between dishes. Little sitting waiting time, a very slick kitchen.
I’ve actually never even been to a Harvester. Ever. Until now. Tonight. Hillington Industrial estate. Glasgow. Mid February. Big carpark. Tick. Spacious inside. Tick. Open kitchen, tick.
Your table was actually booked for 6.45pm, the waiter girl at the doorway with the cool skip cap and the DMs tells me. Not a hint of irony on her face. Considering it’s now 7.30pm and I’ve just bounced in all-a-breezy and thinking check-me-I’m-early – this could turn awkward.
At the end of this meal I’ll look at the bill and realise that the four so-so poppadoms (black pepper ground on them) with chutneys we had cost…£8.50. Phew, I’ll think, is anywhere on Planet Food cheap anymore?
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