Last night went to a great pub tucked away from the main street down some stone stairs on a Close (which seems to mean sort of a pedestrian-only alleyway into the warren of stone buildings) called Devil’s Advocate – great big stone cave-like space. I had a traditional Scottish cider, battered and fried balls of haggis in a mustard mash, and a burger that was, from the ground up:
Mayo (my substitute for quince aioli)
Thick flame-cooked beef/pork burger
Slab of black pudding
Slab of blue cheese
Oh, and chips (thick fries).
It was all AMAZING. But also huge and I couldn’t quite finish. The waitress kept coming to make sure I liked it, since I was eating slowly, and looked a little sad when she took the last bit away. Then she brought the check and said “I’m sorry, I think maybe you didn’t like it and you’re just so nice that you didn’t want to say, and I thought maybe the burger looked a little too pink, so I’ve talked to my manager and I’ve given your drinks free and I hope that’s alright!” Awwwww!
This morning I’ve gone for breakfast at Mum’s, where I had eggs benedict, a side of mash, and an Irn Bru (‘iron brew’ made in Glasgow). Now the question: what, exactly, is ‘mash’? I’ve had it now more than once, and I’m still not sure. It looks like potatoes but it doesn’t quite taste like them. Ah well.
Irn Bru – not a fan. It’s bright orange and super sweet and vaguely citrusy, but mostly sweet.
Now I’m off to shows! Hurrah!