AWKWARD, I’m thinking, as that magazine-beautiful tower of Bucatini Carbonara on my plate turns into springy hosepipes of hell, uncoiling in mid air, lashing slo-mo gobs of orange yolk and parmesan skyward, before heading in every single direction except the mouth one – leaving me slack-jawed in dumb dudefaction.

Ooh, you must be hungry the cheery lady at the table right next to me had said when three really great-looking plates of pasta were brought to the table a moment ago by a waitress who had merely hoisted one eyebrow at finding a lone diner at the receiving end of this bifter order.

I’m more nosey, I reply by way of idle chit-chat as I then learn the lady’s husband is an Italian-American and the pasta on her plate, she can report, is definitely al-dente.

All of this taking place amidst the invigorating hubba-bubba of excited chitter-chatter emanating from possibly hundreds of people, sitting out there in the main seating area beneath exposed pipes, big picture windows and that open kitchen right down at the back wall.

Hmm, I’m either gonna have to stick my coupon in this plate and slurp these Bucatini suckers up, I’m thinking. Or use a knife. Shriek. Imagine what my old Nonna’s reaction would have been to that.

By now at least the folks at the next table are averting their eyes from this catastrophe and my dignity will surely die in secret. Well, apart from that smooth-waiter straight outta an Elena Ferrante novel drifting right over here right now, thumbs raised in the internationally recognised sign for: all good, dude.

Now, he had also glided up when I sat down and asked: are you waiting for someone. “Nope, just the menu,” I had replied, looking down at the drinks list in my hand. This being met with another internationally recognised hand gesture. The one that signifies: turn that drinks menu over stoopid. Aaah.

It’s way over two years since I was last in Sugo and since then it has cemented itself into Glasgow-life as a red-hot, commercial superstar; an act of complete culinary chutzpah where kids, largely but not exclusively, queue relentlessly for a fast-flip table and the promise of impeccable bish-bosh authentic food straight from the old country and, Mamma Mia, fresh-made in-house pasta.

Plus…and here is where I think their genius actually lies: super keen pricing. Though not according to everyone. “It’s expensive now,” reads a chum’s incoming text, arriving as I spear just one more of those crispy Guanciale nuggets from the carbonara and push the half-eaten plate away.

Actually? It’s not. It was a fiver for a big, fat bowlful of Tagliarini with olive oil, chilli and Pangratto in 2019. Exactly the same dish, tonight, red and green chilli glistening amidst more heaped eggy-coloured pasta, parmesan piled (ironically) atop that crunchy, crisp breadcrumb mix is, and this post the global post-Covid super-price bump…just £6. I salute that.

OK, it’s easy to then hit £8, £9, £11 and even a £12 per pasta plate, but remember these are, in Scotland, mains.

Fast forward. On nodding bye to my table neighbours later I’ll be asked: hey, but which one did you like best? Ah, the Penne with Fennel Sausage Ragu, I’ll say, referring to that crumbly, licoricey, porky, sausage mix.

What I won’t say then, but I have to say now, is this: I just do not like their pasta. At all.

I don't care if it is made right now, over there. To me it tastes undercooked, way the wrong side of al dente, waxy and as a result the dishes, the sauces and the pasta itself, just do not hang together properly. And it’s nothing like any silkily delicious hand-made I have elsewhere eaten either.

But, and as that queue I will pass going out, testifies, what the hell do I know.

Sugo Pasta

70 Mitchell Street

Glasgow

0141 258 1650

Menu: Pasta but not as you would generally know it. A regionalised selection of Italy’s best with the promise of proper sourcing and fresh made pasta. 4/5

Atmosphere: It’s a vast restaurant with big windows, high ceilings, yet filled with the excited buzz of scores of diners who have queued to get in. I like. 4/5

Price: Have the prices gone up? Not obviously. You can still have a full plate of pasta for just £6. 5/5

Service: They need to flip tables fast in here so the staff are never far away. Straightforward, pleasant and efficient. 4/5

Food: The clue is in the name: Their sugos, or sauces, are pretty good, that Italian sausage licoricey, that pangratto all crunchy textures. I do not like the texture of their pasta. 6/10

23/30