Andy Waugh of Mac & Wild, London
Having two enjoyably Scottish restaurants in London is a source of personal joy – certainly to me, possibly even the other quarter of a million Scots who live in the British capital – but it’s never really going to trouble the purveyors of Chinese, Italian, Indian and dirty hamburgers, is it?
Scottish food gets a bad press, despite north of the border having some of the best restaurants in the UK. Impoverishment in Glasgow still kills people at an early age: fags and booze are the co-conspirators, diet’s the main assassin. It’s a tragedy some people make darkly comic by the tedium, the unending ennui, of that most tiresome urban myth, the deep fried Mars Bar.
I’ve no doubt, a very long time ago, somebody did put a Mars Bar into a deep fat fryer for a jolly jape, but like Nessie, it only became a thing because it fitted our collective need to believe in the unbelievably ghastly. The joke has dragged on for years, and now this atrocious abomination can actually be found for real, a putrid punchline indeed. Dear God, there’s even a chip shop in Aberdeenshire who claim it as their “invention”. Jesus.
Boisdale’s City branch, London
In the meantime, almost unnoticed, generations of inner city children have grown up with the real sicko – deep fried pizza – and no, we’re not talking the Napoli delicacy, Pizza Fritta, here. And you thought a 12 inch Hawaiian with pineapple was the killer.
I say two “enjoyably’” Scottish restaurants because in London the past is littered with places where I have bribed the bagpipe player to shut up, pleaded with the waiter to scrape off the “whisky sauce” (bleeurgh!), and stared in disbelief at tourists crammed into those garishly lit “Aberdeen” and “Angus” steakhouses around Piccadilly Circus. Truly the Third Circles of Hell.
Chef Chris Zachwieja is, rather fittingly, Polish. Fitting, because in modern Scotland there are twice as many Polish speakers as there are Gaelic
The granddaddy is Boisdale of Belgravia, now with two city branches, which comes complete with tartan chairs, splashes of heather, and chasers of whisky; shortbread tin gimcrackery from the owner, Clan chief Ranald McDonald (never, ever, call him Ronald) which complement the loucheness of jazz and cigars that prevail of an evening. There’s a lighter hand at the stove however. Chef Chris Zachwieja is, rather fittingly, Polish. Fitting, because in modern Scotland there are twice as many Polish speakers as there are Gaelic. In schools, Polish is Scotland’s second language. Brawo!
They’re big on steaks and game, and thankfully have ended all that nonsense where the Grouse is helicoptered from Scottish moors on the Glorious Twelfth, the first day the wee things can be blasted out the sky. It always struck me as the avian equivalent of Beaujolais Nouveau Day where the French would rush their alcoholic raspberry vinegar to the UK in late November for fear it might turn to… raspberry vinegar.
Grouse needs to be hung for a day or two, or three or more, before chefs like Chris can get their hands on it. This year, he started fashionably late, August 18th, and right now in addition to the traditional roasted method – with bread sauce and game chips – he has a more modern alternative of unfeasibly tender boneless crown with only a whiff of gaminess, a piquant Pithivier of confit leg, the magic ingredient being black cardamom, and stuffed cabbage with smoked bacon, barley and elderberries. It’s as delicious as it sounds. After a starter of translucent, seared Scottish scallops and cauliflower done a variety of different ways, this was easily the equivalent of the best of Scotland’s restaurants. Well, the ones I like anyway.
Mac and Wild, from Instagram
Meanwhile just up from Oxford Circus, on Great Titchfield Street, there’s a new kid on the block: Mac & Wild, barreling straight into town from The Highlands. One of the owners, Andy Waugh, is the son of a game dealer in the tiny village of Ardgay, an hour north of Inverness, thus creating a direct line of supply from wilderness to table.
The premises once housed The Venetian, one of several old school Italian trattorias in the area now reduced to just one (Mondello, Goodge Street). The ceramic murals of gondolas are gone, stripped off to reveal bare brick, a darkly rustic backdrop for vintage prints of distant shoots and ironmongery designed for hanging carcasses dragged off the hill.
The starter of note on the menu at Mac & Wild sounds like a joke: “haggis pops” – crispy nuggets of home made haggis deep fried in Panko crumbs. Now I like haggis once a year, with neeps and tatties on Burns Night, but that’s about it. My companion, however, English enough not to actually know what haggis is, enthused deeply about their gentle spiciness, forcing me to ‘share’ his plate. By chance, I had just scoffed my starter of venison tartare (made tasteful, and suitably slithery, with a fresh tomato and beetroot glaze) and was sadly unable to reciprocate.
A main of venison “steak frites” came sliced rare, with proper chips and a variety of sauces from béarnaise to bone marrow. We both ordered it, if only to prevent further plate thievery.
The place is run with wit, as evidenced by a big plastic stag outside on the pavement, and the predilection for serving bottles of Irn Bru, Scotland’s famous hangover cure but more importantly the luminescent sugary drink that kept Coca Cola off the number one sales spot for decades. Truly, a unique global achievement. (see “bad diet” above). The staff are bright and funny too.
We ordered dessert of home made “teacakes”, chocolate covered marshmallows normally seen in boxes of six when manufactured by Tunnocks of Uddingston. At Mac & Wild they’re home made, that day’s flavours being rose, strawberry and lemon verbena – sophisticated versions of the plain original, last eaten when I was four years old, and called “munchmallows”, a much better name in my view.
I thought the only Scottish food I was missing out on in London was the muscular but intricate Desi cuisine of Glasgow’s Mother India restaurant. I was wrong. If my mother had ever served haggis pops, I’d miss them too.
G’awn yersel. C
Boisdale, 15 Ecclesteon Street, London SW1W 9LX UK
020-7730 6922; boisdale.co.uk
Mac & Wild, 65 Great Titchfield Street, London W1W 7PS UK
020-7637 0510; macandwild.com