Dennistoun Bar-b-que
Glasgow
I’LL crack the jokes, is what I suspect the server guy’s thinking all-to-himself after I respond with a somewhat obvious quip on hearing the price of the bottle of Mexican coke that I already clutch in my pudgy hand.
It costs £6 since you ask. But then wooh it is made with white sugar man, rather than corn fructose or so I’ll discover on Mr Google. Later. And that makes all the difference, to many people anyway. Not me. Tastes exactly like every other Coke, I whisper. To myself. As I glug it down and scoop another handful of crisp, salty fries from the big sheet of greaseproof that covers the tray containing my food.
By now I’m on the second big question of this lazy Sunday. Is this place deliberately, like artistically, grungy or has it just developed this tired, gloomy, half-dead vibe after surviving Covid, the tragic demise of Man V Food, and the almost complete disappearance from polite society of the big, bushy hipster beard?
Normally? I’d say answers on a postcard please. But at one point, just after I’ve enjoyed the last cumin-flavoured pork morsel from the very last rib I think, I’ll get up and go to the toilets to wash my hands.
Now I’m not Bog Spy, but l will exclaim (to myself), like a mad geezer, it’s very bright and very clean in here. Then I’ll go out and look down the corridor that opens right into the kitchen and see that it too, is very spic and very span. In contrast to out front.
So deliberate grunge then? Yeah, I think so. Including the still-cute-after-all-these-years, old-style cinema-style sign; the bold lettering saying “open eight days a week” and the relentless indication that black remains their very, very favourite colour.
The Dennistoun Bar-B-Que then? You’re right I was here ten years ago. Liked it. I’m here again because well, hot town, it’s summer in this city, back of my neck getting all dirty and gritty. Or in plain English: Mrs Mackenna’s in Italy, Cal’s in Australia, Luca’s at work so I’m home all-alone and frankly? You don’t barbecue for yourself. What would the neighbours think.
Okay maybe I watched something meaty on Netflix and now I would like some proper barbecue, which we are definitely not known for in Scotland. Taa-raa. So here I am. Okay. To check the barbecue in here’s properness and because I can no longer see the smoker that used to sit out front I’ll ask the counter geezers (one faintly cheery, the other, um, not) where they make the stuff. “Right here,” he’ll say. “In there,” with a nod to the kitchen.
(Image: Mark F Gibson)
I only ask because by then I’ve had a little cup of their brisket. Something generally in this country we cannot make commercially. Obviously grannies are still great at it. This is brilliant. The meat flawlessly tender, the flavouring bold and even though I’m fishing it piece after piece from a daft little cup somebody has made sure there’s not a single, ugly grisly bit in there either. Bravo. Or hi five dude, or whatever the correct compliment is.
And by then too, I had already worked my way through a rack of pork ribs that just parted to the touch, yet were somehow fragrant and spiced and simply damn good. Oh and… The Dennistoun still does one thing few other places can do in Scotland, but everyone can do on the continent: make good chips. Fried, maybe twice, probably from frozen but so what, hot, salty golden, thin and sprawling across that greaseproof covered tray.
I did say it’s early Sunday afternoon. There ain’t nobody else in here but a table of four looking like they’re curing hangovers with burgers. I have a burger too. Just the Jack, or their classic cheeseburger.
It’s fine; burger itself is charred and meaty, bun is merely okay, kinda wrinkly, from-a-bag-look, nothing special. Does it detract from the overall experience? No. So this place is still doing it. After all these years.
Dennistoun Bar-b-que
585 Duke Street, Glasgow
Open eight days. 0141-237-7200
Menu: half racks of ribs, BBQ brisket sides, burgers, fries but not from the back of a freezer food van 4/5
Atmosphere: It’s definitely got atmosphere. On a languid Sunday afternoon, it’s a bit black and low rent and weary feeling but that’s deliberate isn’t it? 3/5
Service: Like the atmosphere, it’s hard to tell if it’s part of the package. Sometimes too cool for skool, but hands off and they’re going to be annoying anyone with over-friendly chat. 3/5
Price: Racks of ribs a tenner, tubs of brisket a fiver, burgers hitting £10 too. I think for hand-knitted stuff that’s pretty good. 5/5
Food: They do great brisket, excellent own-smoked ribs and even their fries are way better than average. Burger needs a grown up bun but overall: 8/10
23/30
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