The Ubiquitous Chip

Ah, The Chip. Mothership of the Glasgow restaurant scene for over 30 years and proud parent of those other West End perennials Stravaigin and The Liquid Ship.

An institution of the most unstuffy, warmly regarded kind, it has been championing locality, seasonality and sustainability in its menus decades before such traits became marketing gimmicks so overused even McDonald’s can plug its hoof-mulch with green fields, responsible bucolic farmers and quirky ukulele music with their tongues apparently nowhere near their cheeks.

The Chip has certainly lost none of its celebrity pulling power- sadly, I arrived too late for Kylie and too early for Jay Z. Luckily, a swiftly dispatched silken espresso cupful of butternut squash veloute proved more rewarding than a hundred ironic covers of Wonderwall ever could be.

Taste buds suitably perked up, I tucked in to three pearly, sea-sweet scallops nestling on a crisp swirl of potato rosti while my other half began what would be a series of worryingly borderline-orgasmic 'oh my god's' with her fish and prawn sausage. This had the same pleasingly springy teture as Thai fishcake, but its apple mayonnaise gave it a distinctly comforting, Western feel.

For mains, I plumped for what the menu sparingly dubbed 'trio of lamb'. What arrived was an ovine extravaganza of rare roast fillet, sliced like a stack of pound coins, shoulder stuffed with coarsely chopped mussels and minced haunch, warmly spiced and baked in pastry, a creation which took the humble bridie to ethereal new heights. Holding the holy trinity together was a pile of crushed potatoes infused, thanks to some kitchen wizardry, with the heady taste of the liqour that lurks at the bottom of a pot of moules.

Across the table, an unapologetically rich dish of ruby Perthshire pigeon with a ying yang of game and wild mushroom sauces and nutty pearl barley risotto was polished off in record time.

She scored the real showstopper dessert too, thanks to a Hendricks gin and tonic jelly. One of Scotland's most delicious contributions to the cocktail world was set in a translucent ring studded with pink grapefruit and topped with cucumber sorbet - dazzling. My chocolate brioche pudding was the most conventional option on the menu but didn’t suffer for that, offering a crumbly bittersweet pud just the right side of stodgy.

The epic wine list caters for both budget and blowout. We settled for a cracking Portugese red, smooth and hearty enough to cope with the mains and a real bargain, falling a few quid under the £20 mark.

Many restaurants in the city struggle to reach a thirty month anniversary, but one visit to the Chip reminds you just why it's still thriving. Its lush courtyard atrium brims over with chatter and playfulness, attributes which much fine dining seems to deliberately avoid. There's no hushed voices, no sycophantic service - just top notch food to be enjoyed with the right amount of Glasgow gallus.