Hooligan

Glasgow

SPEAKING of awkward dining moments, this is in my top ten. But let’s get up to speed first.

After climbing the narrow and grungy stairs, being bamboozled in the world’s smallest corridor, uh which door now, nodding at the chef working away through that hatch there, Hooligan is one of those worlds that catches me somewhat by surprise.

Ooh, bare stone walls, racks of wines, soft and comfy upholstery and so many candles glowing warmly that for a moment I think there’s a coal fire burning brightly behind that little serving station there.

Ann Wants to Dance by Papooz is dripping slowly, seductively, from the speaker bathing us sophisticated city diners, cos that’s what I’m feeling like already, in good vibrations.

Ping. A waitress shoots by cracking a witty one-liner about me having my laptop out and working as I dine.

Actually, I’m Shazamming the tunes, but why spoil the illusion.

Whoosh. I’m being taken through a cocktail list that has my eyes glazing over as I’m driving later tonight.

Wham. I’m already tearing through chewy, salty (but not ridiculously so) and fabulously made-here oily focaccia, ignoring the far-too-fashionably-sour-for me sourdough and here come my sizzling sweetcorn fritters already.

Honestly, these need a moment to sit and cool and get down with this primo lounge vibe before being dragged through a tangy dip sparkling freshly with red pepper and cumin.

Now, to steal a line from Leonard Cohen, I know this room, I’ve walked this floor. Didn’t this used to be a spin-off of the Drake Pub (downstairs) where we have had the annual dinner of the Dead President’s Society (don’t even ask).

If so, by the time my knife glides into a terrine of n’duja and pancetta, I have decided I really like what they’ve done with the old place.

Ah. Lot of flavours in this terrine. I pop half an oozing duck egg into my mouth and am almost immediately hit by the mind-bending strong aftershock of that deep, dark mole poblano this all sits in. The texture of the terrine: light, crisp in layers, moist in others, is outstanding. Though probably any two of the three main flavours on the plate would have been enough.

The laptop is shoved aside aside now. I pause only to tell the waitress that the couple in the corner table are looking for assistance, the downside with the layout of this room being that the attention of the staff is occasionally drawn away from the ten or so tables.

I have a bavette in front of me. Fourteen quid to you, sir. It’s petite, pretty, attractive, the steak being chocolatey seared, the meat rosey and juicy, not tender as a bavette never is, but carmelised and, hurrah, salted correctly and then springing to attention when dabbed in a lively shallot ketchup.

You’ve noticed? Something bad happened to the peppercorn croquette during the short journey from the kitchen. Its crisp exterior has sagged like an old farm roof, the cheesy gooey filling, sprawling across the plate. But it still tastes very good.

That awkward moment then? In between all this there has been a vibrant and perfectly seasoned bowl of white crab meat, loaded by me on to impressively flavoured brown crab tuille, slivers of fresh green apple invigorating each mouthful.

There have been questions though. And these sent the poor waitress spinning back and forwards from the kitchen until suddenly the chef himself is standing before me.

The tangy jelly? Pet Nat wine. This piped twirled faintly crab, er, stuff? An emulsion, egg, cream, brown crab meat, a custard.

Do you like it, he asks? Ooh, ah, I could lie. But in a few moments this plate is going back to the kitchen and that custard will still be on it.

Er, nope, I say. But I really enjoyed everything else. And that actually is the truth.

 

Hooligan

1 Lynedoch Street,

(Above The Drake)

Glasgow

0141-352-9841

Menu: Enoki mushrooms, Saltmarsh lamb, Jerusalem artichoke with almond, ding-donging almost every small plate culinary come-on in the lexicon. Interesting. 5/5

Service: The way they have had to position the till and the serving station means staff have to have eyes in the back of their heads. They’re very good though. 5/5

Atmosphere: Intimate, almost secret, feel to this very comfortable lounge, with bare walls, cool tunes and flickering candles. Top marks. 5/5

Price: Ranging from £4 for mountains of that great focaccia through to £15 for crab and preserved lemon, but it’s a sophisticated setting. 3/5

Food: Lots of little interesting sensations; that crab, custard aside, was simple yet made with clear skill, the bavette and peppercorn croquette likewise. Good stuff. 7/10

25/30