The Malletsheugh

Newton Mearns

Bobby will get you in a minute, a waiter says with a smile as I meander in. And Bobby does. No booking? That’s not a problem, sir, says the very same Bobby previously mentioned. A professional scan of the far-flung recesses of the vast dining room follows, and it’s not one of those fake scans round an empty dining room either, a peek towards that corner, a quick word with a colleague and 20 seconds later va-voom I have a table.

Okay, it’s a shocker. Squeezed between the wide-open entrance and a radiator, hemmed in too by lead-filled wingback dining chairs, that I have to drag back and shuffle the actual bloody table just to get my lardy carcass in.

Hey, who’s complaining? Not me. And I’ll tell you why. 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.


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I’m surprised. Especially since I have passed this kinda country-club-in-a-car-park many times over the years and never once been drawn in.

Honestly? I’ve always thought it looked like an ugly-name Wetherspoon on the edge of town. It doesn’t inside. It’s lush, it’s plush, it’s upholstered to the hilt: there’s a Game of Thrones vibe going on with a faux frozen tree, a flight of suspended icy birds suspended.

The service? Old school super-slick Indian restaurant. The sort that I had forgotten existed. The menu’s here instantly, the drinks are whisked up quickly, a young dude is taking the order before I’ve even put the menu down and, yes, the food starts arriving pronto.

True, there will be a couple of teensy points. Bobby, whose eyes are everywhere will spot me from across the room frowning that the salt and pepper I asked for haven’t arrived. Boom. Now they have.

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Then he’ll catch me muttering at Joe across the table as a tray of Diet Cokes sails pasts and doesn’t stop at our table. I’ll look up. He’ll be here. “Your bottle of Diet Coke is being poured at the bar, sir, and coming right now”. Ooft.

There will be a teensy moment at the end too when having decided against desserts (these are not their strong suit) I’ll ask our waiter if we got the right fish dish earlier. That would be the Masaledar – billed as crispy coated haddock pieces with a sweet and sour sauce.

“Ours wasn’t crispy,” I’ll say. In fact, the fish was so drowned in sauce that it was more a soggy soup. Off the waiter will go to the kitchen to check. Back he will come. That was the fish Masaledar. Umm.

Better luck with the Okra Fries we started with: a lattice of wafer-thin okra, a satisfying, crunchy, crispy sensation, then moments of fresh tasting greenery. Love from the deep fat frier.

There was that mountain of poppadoms with a couple of dips for £1.50 first. Bingo. Didn’t I pay three times as much for barely a third of this in a street food place in town a couple of weeks ago?

The veg pakora? A half dozen, cleanly fried, attractively presented for, crikey, £4.50.

Okay, it’s seven bangers for the Amritsari Fish Pakora but it’s decent if the fish is way more firm than flaky.

The Herald: The Malletsheugh in Newton MearnsThe Malletsheugh in Newton Mearns (Image: free)

Baba’s Shora Chicken £11.50 provides a moment’s entertainment (for me) when Joe mistakes one of the hellfire chilli grenades as a green bean. But the sauce itself, if chillies avoided, desi-style of course, turns out to be rich, laced with curry leaf, and delicious when smothered onto-the-bone chicken sitting in it.

Oh, a side dish of Sholay Shoolay anyone? Pressure cooked chickpeas in garlic, all crumbly and more-ish, looks like the bargain of the day at £7.50. Until I check the bill. Ah, that was the full-fat portion at £9.50. Hey ho. Not the end of the world.

Malletsheugh, then. Not bad at all. Still no idea how they pronounce the name though.

The​ Malletsheugh

340 Ayr Road

Newton Mearns


0141 260 0356

Menu: Indian menu, starters and mains, pretty familiar with Baba’s Shora Chicken, Sholay Shoolay to liven it up. 3/5

Service: Proper, highly professional, very affable and warm service. Obviously well run out front. 5/5

Atmosphere: Looks a lot better inside with a soft furnishings, twinkly lights, comfy chairs vibe. 4/5

Price: Nowadays? Pakora for £4.50, poppadoms at £1.50 and mains hovering around £12 is pretty reasonable. 4/5

Food: Liked the Shora Chicken a lot, the Okra Fries too the rest is competently prepared without setting any heather on fire. 6/10