Van Winkle!

Van Winkle!

The story of Rip Van Winkle is set in the Catskill Mountains before the American Revolution. It was a “region full of fable”, holding many memories within its mounds.

My story is set in Glasgow where many people have come and gone but The Mary is omnipresent and, likewise, my love for her is boundless! That’s why, tonight, against my better judgement, I’ve ended up in the Calton District to check out Van Winkle.

This area has changed so much in the past 20 years and is evident in the statistics regarding life expectancy of the local inhabitants. 54 years is often quoted but, with the population increasing by 36% since 2001, the estimate is now 68 for men and 77 for women. The value of housing stock has also risen by 31%.

The Mary was born there and it’s where she lived when I met her and, like Rip Van Winkle in the Mountains of Native America, it’s a place filled with tales of battles, ghosts and spirits. Me and The Mary have had many a scary night in Glasgow. In fact, she reminded me of one, in this very place, when it was called Eastenders.

It was 1983 and normal to encounter the local ‘working girls’ having a wee night out. It was always great fun with James Hughes, the local ‘cabaret’ artist, providing great entertainment. However, on that occasion my sister knocked one of the ‘girls’ off her chair and when I went to apologise, on her behalf, the lassie took an instant loathing to me!

The ensuing fracas resulted in The Mary running round to the Traders Tavern for reinforcements to come and rescue us.  The Clark sisters arrived in about two minutes, like fabulously, happy and excited, raging warriors. The party was just getting started for them.

I remember sitting terrified in the escape car outside, waiting for my mum to come out, while one of the wild, working, lassies was banging on the bonnet shouting,

“I’m gonnae f***king bottle that wee, ugly, posh, snooty, Ginger c**t!”

I was mortally offended because I’d never thought of myself as a snob!

Like Rip Van Winkle, the Calton had been asleep for about 20 years but is now experiencing a renaissance and fast becoming a vibrant, cultural and important centre of creativity, regeneration and the arts.  

Van Winkle has a very cool vibe and the décor is cosily industrial which is not that easy to do. They have corrugated iron on the walls, crude, grainy wooden tables and old school chairs making it both regular and eclectic at the same time. They have truly revived and reclaimed the venue as their own with panache and gritty realism.

For starters we had Buttermilk Chicken Tenders with bourbon, buffalo, extra hot sauce and the Buffalo Wings. The Mary’s eyes nearly popped when she tried it.  I had naughtily said it wasn’t so hot but it was actually nearly as hot as a guy I’d been dating’s new squeeze. Even I fancy her, so I’m not hurt or offended at all…I’m not…not really…well maybe a wee bit!

We then had burgers and they were deliciously meaty with melted, dripping cheese which I licked off my arm with glee. Later that evening I found some which had trickled down my bra and I scooped it out relishing tender memories of the evening and the past few weeks of fun, rollicks and terrific scran.

Regarding my recent encounters of the casual kind I sent him a message saying,

“Well done you and thanks for the beautiful memories!”

And well-done Van Winkle if it isn’t broken don’t fix it.  Me and The Mary will be back but, in the meantime, keep doing what you’re doing especially the two coursers for £11!

Today there is so much choice in every aspect of life and maybe we should learn to have some loyalty. If you ever want to be truly happy then give things a chance. Like dating, when you find something amazing, try to build on it without constantly trawling for something glossier.

Businesses open and close in Glasgow every week, hearts are broken, illusions shattered and lives are wasting away along with reputation and hopefulness. Even if you don’t frequent a place or are not too keen on it still try recommending it and don’t ever decry someone else’s dream.

So, when you find out what makes your taste buds tingle have respect in the fact someone has taken the time to prepare, nurture and present it for your pleasure. If your tingle fades, it’s not their fault it’s something lacking in you!

See you the next time!

Me and The Mary”

Mx

Roosevelt's Bar and Kitchen!

Roosevelt's Bar and Kitchen!

Who would pick a daisy in a field of roses?

Me neither!

Nor would I pick a vegan burger in a den of meat but go to Roosevelt’s Bar and Kitchen at 144 Park Road in Woodlands Glasgow at least you have the choice.

The meaning of Roosevelt is ‘Field of Roses’ but Brothers Scott and Graeme or, taking into account the origins of their names I’ll call them God and Gravel, are packing them in with juicy, fleshy, brawny burgers and with the help of some ‘Vegan Burd’ called Adele they’ll also offer mortal free options.

Vegans eat a wide variety of plant foods such as lentils, beans, nuts, seeds, fruits and vegetables. Their preference is for anything that’s not derived from livestock. Personally, I think plants have feelings too and would never forage a flower, from the earth, to die in a vessel, on its lonesome.

Me, like most of the men I know, would always pick moist lamb, slender venison or a lean cow to take up the road.  Nothing like a bit of fresh, young meat to sully the bulbous nerve endings on your tongue and get your ravenousness juices flowing.

The bothers Mclean, as the name implies, are sons and servants of the city and I applaud them for their dedication to great scran. Even if it means munching with bush fondlers.

The boys use the freshest of ingredients from local suppliers such as S. Collins & Son in Muirhead (Butchers Extraordinaire) and they have my favourite, Glasgow based, Italian Aroma Coffee. I choose the ‘Eleanor’, beef patty burger with bacon, lettuce, tomato, pickle and burger sauce topped with Jalapenos. It was hot and meaty just like big Scotty Boy!

I was reading yesterday that Eleanor Roosevelt died of cardiac failure and on the way home I felt as if history might repeat itself because I’d scoffed everything on my plate. Fortunately, the meat was so lean and the bun so light and fluffy that I didn’t meat my end...not yet anyway and could still touch my toes without bending my knees.

Just saying!

So, get your hin’ end up to that West End or call right now and book a table on 0141 339 9124 and sample an 8 oz. Rump for a mere £16 quid or a Clinton Sausage for a tenner. Remember though, Bill’s schlong nearly cost him the presidency, so be careful of how you masticate your mutton.

I would have loved some of the Sticky toffee pudding, drizzled with hot, toffee sauce and vanilla ice cream but I’d been well satiated. Also, I’m quite a clumsy eater and didn’t want to mess up my dress then have to explain myself at the cleaners!

“Yes, I did have, messy, sensual relations with a steamy, sticky pudding!”

Maybe they could create a Lewinsky Hotdog with cream cheese, runny mayo and Jalapenos then serve it with a discount voucher for the local Johnson’s the Cleaners!

So, everything in the Roosevelt Garden is Rosy and although you can’t grow flowers in gravel these guys are nourishing their business with great food, a fantastic selection of drinks and honest hospitality along with diversity, imagination and vigour!

I wish them all the luck in the West End!

See you next time with The Mary!

Mx

Mharsanta!

Mharsanta!

(Gaelic for Merchant)

Had the Merchant of Venice been from Glasgow he would have been called Mharsanta de Glaschu (pronounced ‘Var-Santah de Glassie-coo)!

Not easy to say after a few drams I’m sure!

In Shakespeare’s masterpiece poor Bassiano borrowed money from his pal Antonio to woe the classy Portia and in doing so put his friendship and his friend’s life at risk. There are many lessons to be learned from this story. Firstly guys, if have to buy a girl’s time and favour, is it worth having? Secondly, you should never put anything; love, lust or money before friendship.

Love, they say, should last forever and we all know it is but a promise. There are vows and contracts but no guarantees. True friends love you for who you are, not what you have. I’d much rather be ‘in like’ with someone than in love with an ideal!

All that glistens isn’t gold and lust can make you blind but lovers can’t see the ‘pretty follies they, themselves, commit’. Sometimes judgement can be ‘blinded by young limbs’ and a fool and his gold can be easily parted. We all know fancy is bred in the groin and not the head. All I want is mirth and laughter to deepen my lovely lines then my worn face will be my legacy.

I got a bit carried away there and, ‘in one fell swoop’ have paraphrased some of the bard’s wisdom. ‘In my mind’s eye’ Shakespeare was the king of the cliché and we loved him for it. As stated in Othello ‘I wear my heart on my sleeve’ and I don’t care if the fabric is new or vintage; what matters is who wants to be on my arm and who loves me for who I am and if not, then ‘good riddance’!

The Mary and I are off to exact a pound of fleshy sausages in Merchant City and we’re looking for a bargain so as we don’t need a Shylock. When the going gets melancholy this Glasgow Girl reaches out to her friends in much the same way Bassiano did with Antonio, and my girls, especially The Mary, are always there to lend me an ear!

Mharsanta has opened on the former site of Pancho Villas on Bell Street and they promise; ‘the very best experience from the moment you walk through the door’. Of what I’m not sure but I am, none the less, excited and we’re choosing from the Pre-theatre menu.

I decided on the Wild mushroom delight which was drenched in gorgeous garlic and creamy sauce with shaved Grana Padano, served on toasted soda bread. Oh, my Lord it was indecently salacious! If you order this be careful what you have for seconds because it’s quite filling and I was devastated because I actually left some food on my plate for the first time in about 15 years!

I then had the scrumptious steak and sausage pie with buttery mash and seasonal vegetable and it was absolutely, Scottishly perfect. The Mary opted for Shetland Mussels then Mince and tatties.

She had a problem with this dish in that it had a Poached, Hen’s egg perched on top. She looked scared when it arrived and said it reminded her of an old boyfriend who only had one eye and he always loved how she cooked her mince. She thought, in some way, he’s come back to haunt her. Seriously, what a load of mince!

I explained to The Mary how it might be because in the old days they could have tried to add extra protein or maybe Mharsanta had an overenthusiastic hen in the back yard. I also hit out with loads of other theories about ‘the evil eye’ and how an egg might protect us from vampires and witches.

After this full-on discussion about this I asked the lovely server Eilidh why it was there, to which she replied;

“Not sure actually!”

So, there you bloody well go hen!

No rhyme nor reason for the egg!

As my auld pal Wullie S. would say;

“All’s well that ends well!”

See you the next time!

Me and The Mary.

Mx