IN THE PINK, CLOCKWISE FROM THIS PICTURE Glasgow's Clyde Arc at Finnieston; a wee dram; Dakota Hotel bar; Babu co-owner Rachna Deer; eton mess with tonka bean ricotta and lemon verbena at Ox and Finch; the team at Gannet
' Fur coat, nae knickers' is how Glaswegians are fond of describing Edinburgh folk like me. The implication is that while we give the outward appearance of cultivation, manners and propriety, there’s nothing underneath. I lived an hour’s journey from Glasgow for much of my life, yet only visited it twice; once in error, when I got on the wrong train. Later, when I went as a student, a young woman started talking at me at a bus stop. In Edinburgh, this usually means the person is ‘aff their heid’. Yet this blethersome lass was just passing the time of day. Her harsh brogue was hard to comprehend. Not for the first time I was grateful to Billy Connolly. Without years of hearing the Big Yin’s Glasgow accent on the telly, I wouldn’t be able to decipher a word. Apart from being divided by a common language, there are many other supposed cultural differences between the cities, not least that Edinburgh folk are too busy counting their money to be troubled by in-yer-face Glasgow cheek. But while sensible Edinburgh saves, Glasgow spends – and knows how to have a good time. You’d expect there to be good bars and nightlife in the city, but I’d heard that it now also has a vibrant food culture. It was time to challenge my parochial prejudices, and reassess Glasgow with a third visit in three decades.