It’s freezing tonight and we’ve not decided where to go so
the Big Guy suggested we go to Finneston and peruse until we discover a worthy
hostelry. When I picked up The Mary she
looked like a truffle, sniffing poodle wrapped in faux fur. She was barking and singing because she’d been
watching James Cordon on that car pool Karaoke!
I hadn’t said to her that Rosaria was in the back of the car and when she started singing The Mary nearly
jumped out of her pelt!
We might start our very own Motor Tug Sing Alang and invite
along, as our very first guest, Glasgow’s very own, fabulous, BarbaraBryceland!
After parking the car The Mary got her nose to the ground
and started sniffing which led us toward The Ox and Finch whom, we presumed,
she was already acquainted with, being that she was all animal like and shit. The Mary though, unlike those truffle hunting dugs,
doesn’t get enough exercise but certainly gets plenty of love and stimulation from her
four grandchildren.
Those weans are very good at learning things on their own
and also work well as a wee team so, The Mary rewards them for positive behavior;
just like Pavlov’s dogs but she,
unlike him, tries to make the training
fun and they hardly ever get stuffed in a cage.
On arrival at The Ox and Finch we were me at the door by the
lovely Rowan with whom Rosaria I were already familiar with; well Rosaria probably
more than me actually but that’s another story.
This delightful and very beautiful Lassie informed us, in
the most charming way that we were idiots and the place was so popular that we
should be ashamed of ourselves for turning up not having booked a table. We accepted this pleasant affront with the
grace it deserved and thanked her for offering us a table sometime in
January.
We will go back…nae doot!
We were really happy to get back in the car for another wee sing-alang,
so The Mary bestowed us with the most, awful rendition of Roll a Silver Dollar and we were consequently dumbstruck to the
point where Rosaria suggested that I chant a wee number…
Not even kidding, that’s how bad she actually was that my daughter wanted me to sing!
Arriving on
Gibson Street, or is it in the
street, (I’m never quite sure of the in,
on, at thing) we were faced with the fact you have to pay for parking until
10pm. FFS, I’m never, even out till that
time and The Mary’s eyes usually start glazing over about 9.15pm.
Get a grip Glasgow City Council there were
three machines out of order and I was wabbit
oot by the time I got to Stravagin.
Stavaig means to wander and I could relate to that tonight
and with all the meandering for food and difficulty parking I needed a lie down.
The fact that Stravaigan's motto is ‘Think Global,
Eat Local’ was more than relevant because I feel as if I’ve travelled too far from my beloved East End already in my quest for new scran to be disappointed!
Stravaigan has three, separate, dining areas; we were on the
top level and The Mary thought it was fabulous to be looking down on the
locals. She was funny and we revisited a
conversation about the differences between East and West. She decided it was
mainly due to their innate snobbery and our moderate humility towards them that
made us superior. She also stated they
were luck we gave them a visit every now and then and it was commendably
charitable on our part. Unlike them, she
said, we don’t stay tethered to our roots and liked to spread ourselves about a
bit.
We eventually decided on two small dishes each. The food was exactly as promised in the menu (or is it in the menu?) and made all
the more tasty, particularly for me, because of the warm, cosy atmosphere and
the lighting. Things always taste better
when I’m surrounded by twinkly lights…a bit like men…I can cope with them in a
dim light also!
The food was great and, as expected, the girls who served us
were very pretty. Nothing worse than
being served food by a fat, unfortunate looking server. It puts me right off my grub that.
Because of all the stavaigin’ we’d done the evening went by
very quickly and it seemed like no time at all untill we were paying the bill,
or had they hurried us up.
Not sure!
All in all it was a decent experience and The Mary thought it
was a great idea that they’d served her soup after she had finished the Haggis
Neeps and Totties. She’’d never
experienced that before and said she might do that on Christmas day. She might even dish out the soup last instead
of a sweet.
The weans would love that!
So, with their ‘fingers firmly on the foodie pulse and their
weird and wonderful wine and food’ the tables fill up quickly. Stravaigan think customers should also be ‘willing to become gourmet guinea
pigs’. We're no really up for that to tell you the truth. I'm not very experimental about my food and would hope that when I'm paying good money for it that it's been tried and tested on the locals!
They deserve it more than us!
Have to say though, The Mary hit
the boak with the suggestion of grey squirrel and sea urchins quaffed down with
wine. She said she “‘could’nae even barf
that doon wi’ beer.”
Got to love that The Mary.
See you the next time!
Mx
