Alchemilla

1126 Argyle Street, Glasgow (0141 337 6060)

WE OVERHEAR the guy with the tattoos and that tiny woollen cap perched improbably on the back of his head saying: “We’re fully booked until next year already, it’s crazy.” And it is crazy in here.

Squeezing in the door, surging to and fro, letting people pass then perching at those seats at the bar. Music playing, people eating, chefs hustling and bustling, tattoo man leaning over giving the couple beside us the chat. And this is just a Sunday night.

We have to move. Bar seats are great for two sitting side by side but hopeless for threes and the way these are designed I’m actually staring right down the lug of the man round the corner from me. Not cool.

But moving’s OK, they say, and a few moments later we’re at a table by the window, right under the mezzanine, wondering how the hell they got so much underlit, overblown, downright charming style into so little space.

Hoving into view is the waiter, the nice guy who somewhat unnecessarily announced to us earlier: “OK, this is how it works. I bring the food.” And that’s exactly what he is doing. Slowly.

We don’t do speech bubbles in this column but if we did the one above our heads right now would contain simply the word “Uh?” as we stare at one very small plate of steak tartare with anchovy ricotta, the waft of toasted mustard seed, the beef itself in tiny cubes. It’s a very good tartare indeed but three people with three forks clear it quickly.

And then have to wait. Tickety-tock. Until weaving through the crowd, eventually, come leeks vinaigrette with crab and tarragon. Hurrah. It’s fresh and punchy and, yes, small. And quickly finished.

We wait again. Tickety-tickety-tock. Until a small square of moist, superbly cooked, and – unusual, this – boldly seasoned, crisp-skinned hake on tomato and chilli arrives.

Not that I’m counting but after three very small plates we’re already £27 down. And wondering out loud how the recommended two dishes each are even going to partly satisfy us. Bread is the answer. Partridge, romescu and roast seeds arrive and at last the kitchen manages to get more than one dish to the table at a time. There’s fried winter greens with nutmeg which is frankly not great, being a dreary, crunchy and largely green-free procession. And octopus coming now, with red peppers and almond.

I’ll cut to the octopus. Tenderised, seared and almost stickily blackened, it has a sweetness and melting texture, and an almondy paste for dipping it in. The partridge, a very big portion, gets a mixed press here depending on whether it’s a baggy leg that’s picked up or a superbly tender chunk of breast in a yogurty, smokey, paprika-ey, gooey dressing that is studded with tarragon.

Yotam Ottolenghi, he of London restaurants, delis and cookbook fame, is apparently the inspiration here. An Ottolenghi cookbook is an essential in every home nowadays. If you live beside a Middle Eastern bazaar. Otherwise they make pretty paperweights.

There are spices, herbs, nuts and seeds throughout, sometimes appearing repeatedly in dishes, such as the fennel and coriander seed. It gives everything a bounce and freshness.

Hang on, the last savoury dish of the night has limped in: handmade pappardelle and a dark green, rich and delicious pesto made of cavolo nero. I could have eaten just this pasta dish and left very satisfied. Or I could have eaten just the rather ordinary and dry desserts consisting of a slice of chocolate cake and a slice of polenta cake and left very unsatisfied.

The place has bubbled and bustled away all night and the food has been interesting and fresh. Pretentious food pseud temple, some may whisper. I think it’s better than that. Maybe even great. Or it could be when the kitchen gets over itself and sends dishes to the table in reasonable time.

It’s a meal. Not a catwalk show.

Menu: Ottolenghi-inspired Scottish-salvo of tiny plates with huge flavours. Octopus, pheasant, cavolo nero pappardelle. 4/5

Atmosphere: Right now this is the buzzy place to be. A tiny, joyful, bubbling oasis of food joy. Or food pseud haven? You decide. 5/5

Service: One plate at a time doesn’t work when there are three people eating, and the portions are tiny. That isn’t tapas style. Blame the kitchen, not the good front-of house. 3/5

Price: Saltily priced but they’ll argue well sourced and carefully prepared and they may be right. Desserts cheekily ordinary. 4/5

Food: Go for the cavolo nero pappardelle. Go for the perfect hake or the delicious yet tiny steak tartare. Don’t go if you’re starving. 8/10

Total: 24/30