Golly gosh, city pub is very posh, so bring a lot of dosh.. but shame about the nosh
It was by accident that Pub Spy called in to Alfredo’s on Glasgow’s West Nile Street.
We’d knocked back a plate of pasta next door at Amalfi so popped in to one of the city’s best football bars.
One of our party wanted a cup of tea. Within minutes, she’d been table-served, with an orange Club on the side, gratis.
Other than a decent collection of signed football strips, there are no frills about this place. There are old men sitting around shouting at TV screens. Yet we left with a warm glow after careful service, good price point and simple salt- of- the- earth attention to customer needs.
A couple of weeks later, we were in The Ivy, the stunningly chic spot on the city’s so-called Style Mile.
We kidded ourselves that we were the stars of old Hollywood but without the agents or the s lush fund dollars for the bill (and you need a few of them). The place – part of the famous UK chain – is the visual definition of decadent luxury.
Art deco mirrored lines, a tastefully curated collection of old Glasgow photos, modern art prints, with ferns and ficus on every shelf and ledge. It’s both gleaming and verdant.
We started at the smal l entrance bar for our first drink, lounging on the comfy, studded leather high chairs, revelling in the on-point service and setting. They could do with repositioning the front desk to avoid those backlogs of folk checking in for dinner – annoying if you’re only in for a drink.
Upstairs in the cocktai l lounge, the visual thrill-ride back to the 1920s continues. The windows of this former bank peer down on Buchanan Street f laneurs, and the wee man playing saxophone on the street corner adds to the vibe.
A woman was DJing on what looked l ike an old cocktai l cabinet, and couples sat around the bar sipping cocktails in the most aesthetically pleasing joint in the town. Even the toilets need to be seen to be believed. The food? Mediocre. Pub Spy’s rather dinky half-roast chicken with Moroccan sauce had a few mouthfuls of gristle and, once a pitiful handful of chips had been added, we’re £ 20 down before anyone’s totted up drinks. And they’re not cheap either.
But even steep prices and average scran wouldn’t put Pub Spy off revisiting for a drink and to marvel in the luxury – before heading to Alfredo’s for a cuppa and a choccy-b before home.