Paisley: The Thursday before Christmas…if it sounds like a fucking horror story, it’s not far off.
To be fair to Burger & Keg, the horror isn’t all of their doing. The world’s most desolate and depressing fairground is shoddily assembled right outside this small restaurant and bar’s door.
Children fight back obvious disappointment as they circle round on the shittiest rollercoaster known to man and some poor bastard working at a ‘Nutella Bar’ could count his customers on a mutant’s four-fingered hand. I love Paisley, but tonight it’s like fucking Royston Vasey, minus the comedy.
Burger & Keg is fairly busy. We have to take a ‘table’ at the window, with a ledge barely big enough to hold our pints let alone our dinner. Red Stripe on tap is a nice surprise, as is draft Desperados – an unusual treat.
We order some burgers and a bucket of chicken wings, as well as some fries. Far too much food, even for two grown-ass men. I ask for ketchup and mustard on my burger and I can’t deny my surprise that the mustard is of the nasty English variety. I mean, who does that? Burger mustard should be of the bright yellow, cheap American type. This more traditional, bitter twist just doesn’t work and really distracts from the taste of what was otherwise a very decent burger.
Chilli cheese fries come with actual chilli con carne, which I didn’t expect. But they taste good enough.
The biggest letdown is the chicken wings. We opt for Buffalo flavour, but these things are bone dry and come with no dip or anything at all to help moisten the shit up. Proper rubbish.
The staff, it must be said, are lovely and have their hands full with one particularly rowdy table. One of the wankers sat there takes to sporadically shouting ineligible nonsense at the top of his voice…perhaps some ‘hip’ student thing that old cunts like me just don’t understand. But really, the staff should tell him to shut the fuck up or leave because he is single-handedly killing the vibe.
In short: Good beer; shit to middling food; and a less than welcoming atmosphere thanks to one clown. This place has potential, but it needs a firm guiding hand to sort it out.
English mustard? Really? Fuck that noise.