Pickled Ginger - Reviewed by Dinertec, Aug 20, 2015

Rating: 4/5

  • 512 St Vincent Street
  • Glasgow
  • G38XZ

After a night out on the tiles, the Moll was in one of her less elegant moods.“I need to eat,” she snapped, after rising from her slumber late in the afternoon, and I knew just the place to take her.

She had been out with the gals in the capital the night before, and neither of us were in much of a chatting mood after she decided to wake me up with her selection of karaoke hits when she arrived home.

I jumped in the Buick as rain pelted the dark city pavements, rivers pouring down the street and over Toots’ bright red stilettos. She followed suit, I slammed the trusty car into gear and we sped off, heading straight for Finnieston.

My stomach growled as we parked up outside Pickled Ginger on St Vincent Street. The week had been long and all I could think of was a good meal, and perhaps a nice whisky or two.

“This looks cute,” she smiled, her eyes lighting up as she spied the steaming hot plates inside. “And sushi is just what I’m after. Nice job, Tec.”

The Moll applied a fresh coat of lippy, spritzed her perfume and we ran inside, avoiding the still-torrential rain outside.

I brushed off my trench coat and took her jacket – she had chosen a delightful faux fur number for this evening. I notice she had also chosen one of her little black dresses bought on her last shopping spree courtesy of me.

The ambiently-lit petite restaurant looked promising, and I’d heard good things from those in the know. If the smell was anything to go by, we were in for a real treat. A smiling, glamorously-dressed woman took us to our corner table straight away, with a few diners already tucking in to their grub.

I led the way, the Moll tottering behind me, trying not to trip on her skyscraper heels. “Maybe you should have worn something a bit more...sensible?” I suggested, but as usual she tutted, gave me a scowl and sat down.

I eyed the impressive selection of spirits and whiskies on the wall, but appeased Toots and ordered us two of the Asian beers.

The menu was like a treasure chest, everything looked good and we didn’t know where to start.

Along with the sushi, that resembled little coloured jewels as they emerged from the kitchen, there were traditional dumplings, soup, rice cakes and seaweed for those willing to be more adventurous.

We stuck to our guns and ordered the sushi, along with dumplings. The delicious parcels came quickly, steaming hot in the middle. Toots demolished her share in seconds. She was definitely hungry, I thought to myself, and gave her a smile. The sushi also did not disappoint, and left enough space for our next course.

The mains were equally as tempting, with Japanese lettuce rolls, curries, bento boxes and steaming broths all asking to be tasted.

For once the Moll agreed with me, or was maybe too tired to decide for herself, and we both ordered the same dish for our mains – the spicy beef lettuce rolls. We tucked in, and before we knew it we were rubbing our stomachs with satisfaction.

A well-groomed gent came to check everything was in order, and we decided to have cocktails instead of desserts – a rum one for her, a tropical one for me.

I think we’d overestimated how hungry we were. The joint was starting to fill up so we settled the bill before heading back to the Buick. We’d both sleep well tonight.