Cail Bruich

A pleasant, convivial buzz hangs over Cail Bruich, with every table occupied by bread, wine and garrulous Glasgow chat even on an early Tuesday night.
A couple of doors down from food-drink-theatre-gig-wedding polymath Oran Mor, Cail Bruich is helping turn this area into a wee Scotch corner, thanks to a menu that jazzes up traditional local staples with a 21st century flourish- we’re in ham hock and pistachio terrine territory here.

Taking the lead, a starter of slow cooked rabbit stuffed into tortellini and paired with blue cheese sauce and a sweet, moreish chutney made from tomatoes grown down the Clyde valley was a punchy, complex statement of intent, whilst three translucently-perfect scallops (with toothsome roes still attached) were a dream match with their crisp parmesan and crab crust.

For mains, committed carnivores can tear into a rare roasted rib of beef for two, but we declined this temptation this time round, plumping instead for a hefty (and again immaculately cooked) piece of Tarbert-landed halibut with asparagus, broad beans and a light saffron nage that united the whole dish in a floral-salty broth.

Pudding saw the pair of us descend into brazen, embarrassing gluttony as we tackled the nine dessert tasting platter, featuring a smorgasbord of miniature brulees, brownies and crumbles that shouldn’t really have been polished off by two people quite so quickly. Cail Bruich translates as ‘eat well’- if you splash out, no doubt you will.