Margo, Glasgow: ‘Something very special'

The Guardian

16-03-2025

Sometimes a restaurant can change the whole way of thinking about a casual meal out with friends, and so it was with Jonathan MacDonald's first Glasgow venture, Ox and Finch, back in 2014. It was all about sharing small plates that arrived whenever they were ready. There were wonderful flavours – confit pork belly, crab on sourdough toast, the tenderest rare steak with spiced cucumber and mint salad – with the kitchen in full view. You know the vibe, but sometimes it felt it was all a bit too hectic. Now in his third restaurant, Margo, MacDonald and his band of chefs, led by Robin Aitken, along with a crack front-of-house team, have perfected the experience of relaxed, elegant eating that still feels bohemian and adventurous.
Margo is in the heart of the city, in a tall narrow Victorian street. A high illuminated M at right angles above the door feels very New York and it's minutes from public transport in all directions. That's crucial if you are going to sample the excellent and inventive cocktails: anyone for a Yazmine – Ron Santiago, yuzushu and Campari? Or the Black Isle Blonde organic beer on draught? Or a glass of the zesty Laherte Frères Rosé de Meunier Extra Brut?
There was a gentle buzz of conversation and laughter, not least because it was the eve of the Michelin awards, to be held in the city for the first time, and there were several top chefs spotted at some tables. The playlist is pitch-perfect, not drowning out our voices, and perusing the menu accompanied by Echo Beach felt just right. The interior, by Stuart Black of Mosaic Architects, is welcoming and chic, with echoes of American Mission style. The space is substantial, with a beautifully curated main dining area and a mezzanine, which offer both intimate tables for two, yet includes oval tables for up to 14, with spindle-back curved banquettes all made by local carpenters.
There is a gentle nod to the building's industrial past, if that's not a contradiction in terms, with ochre and pink plastered walls, exposed stone, metalwork and polished concrete floors, all softened with luxurious pale wool and tan leather upholstery. MacDonald has owned the former warehouse building for seven years, but it was only when he was sure of what he wanted to achieve that he called in the architects. Margo is a play on his late mother's nickname, and it is a real passion project from the man who has set a high bar for dining in the city.
The menu consists of morsels of starters, just to get your tastebuds really firing. We sampled Margo's focaccia, which was beautifully light and salty and crisp on top, accompanied by confit garlic butter, with whole golden cloves, which we fought over. We dipped precisely cut and fried chipsticks of polenta dusted with a seasoning powder of dried seaweed spices and vinegar, like very posh toast soldiers, into dips of creamy fresh taramasalata with seaweed oil and chives on top. Then little round croquettes of ham hough, smoked paprika and guindilla arrived and, honestly, if they'd kept them coming, I'd have been happy at that.
At this point I should mention the waiting staff, who were all quietly knowledgable and not over-attentive, and wearing perfect bright-blue bespoke work shirts closed to the neck, with practical pockets. If Margo ever wants to go down the merch route, forget the napery, I'm for a shirt.
For our next plates I was sorely tempted by the hand-dived Uist scallops, sobrasada and haricot beans, which was a winning combination, but I went with the crowd (well, the other three) and we settled on the cold roast lamb saag, thin slivers of pink meat with delicious black garlic and finely chopped lines of spinach, and bavette steak with chimichurri, as I adore parsley any way up, and we were rewarded with perfectly rosy Scottish beef. We chose celeriac and hazelnuts and sprouts and romesco, both of which had a lovely sharpness and a concoction of iceberg lettuce, Lord of the Hundreds cheese, tarragon and green peppercorn, which although refreshing, was rather unwieldy.
The queen of it all was the half Creedy Carver duck, liver parfait, marmalade and toast. Each of us reflected on our favourite part of the dish. Mine was the crispy leg and the rich dark marmalade, while we all chose the silky parfait, and the succulent breast meat was a standout for the others. The wine list was extensive and designed to suit pockets as shallow as a puddle and as deep as Loch Ness, and the sommelier paid careful attention to our food choices. We settled on one glass of Bodegas Terras Gauda, Rias Baixas O Rosal Albarino, which was, I'm assured, lemony and sharp, and for the three of us, a bottle of South African Kloovenburg Eight Feet Red, a Swartland-syrah blend, which was rounded and spicy, and left a rich taste on the tongue.
We hadn't quite finished, though. Bare Bones is a terrific chocolate company in the Barras, towards the east end of the city, an area which is home to the famous Barrowland Ballroom, possibly the best music venue in the UK, and a centuries-old market, which has gone through its own reinvention. And it would have been unthinkable to have left Margo without a selection of puddings, first among them Bare Bones chocolate nemesis with vanilla ice-cream. It was rich and dark, and not at all sweet. We also shared a meltingly good brown butter almond tart, poached quince and crème fraîche, and a dish I am desperate to recreate, blood orange and bay leaf posset. The mixture of the zinging orange with the aromatic bay was the perfect antidote to the intense chocolate nemesis. Puddings are where sharing plates come into their own.
As the evening came to an end, after a convivial and relaxed dinner, looking around Margo – the chefs working away in view below the great sweep of the mezzanine with its echoes of the prow of a Clyde-built liner, the group of revellers nearby, the intimate conversations at tables for two, some solo diners at the chef's counter watching the action, the excitement of a table heading for the Michelin Awards the next day, and the to-ing and fro-ing of the excellent blue-clad staff – it struck me that Jonathan MacDonald has succeeded in creating something very special in memory of his mum. And to top it all, at the Michelin ceremony the next evening, in the magnificent Kelvingrove Art Gallery and Museum, Margo, which has only been open for four months, won a coveted Bib Gourmand award for 'offering high quality food at a reasonable price'. Margo has arrived.