LDNReview
Mac And Wild
Included In
“And then of course, we’ve got the deep fried Mars bars,” the waiter says in a thick Scottish accent, through a tartan face mask. We’re sat in one of Mac and Wild’s elaborate highland huts for four (read as: cute shed) with a whisky vending machine by our side and a portrait of Scottish mountains above us. This is probably the closest we’ll ever get to feeling like we live at Balmoral without marrying into the royals, or, like, holding the Queen’s favourite bagpipe player ransom. It’s fantastic. And so is the food.
Mac and Wild champions proper Scottish produce and their dishes are high fives in meaty, cheesy form. We’re talking about a double patty venison and beef burger that comes smeared in bearnaise, truffled mushroom mac and cheese, and arguably one of the best steaks we’ve ever had in London. We reckon all of that is as good a reason as any to visit Mac and Wild, but throw a pandemic-proof private lodge into the mix and we’re hooked. Seriously, no one has been this excited about a shed since Alan Titchmarsh upgraded his allotment. Why? Because for one night, and one night only, we completely forgot about coronavirus.
The beauty of Mac and Wild’s private lodges is that they’re basically Scottish Disneyland - if you’re now picturing Donald Duck in a kilt then, same. Everywhere you look or turn in this City restaurant you’re met with antlers, scotch, haggis, and Billy Connolly’s voice blasting from a nearby speaker. If you’re thinking, wow that sounds like a Ewan McGreggor meet-and-greet gone awry, well, sorry, you’re wrong. It’s the perfect distraction, the kind you might need say, in the midst of a pandemic. Laughing at your mates’ attempt to say ‘you wee lassie’ and the scent of 18-year-old Talisker whisky like smelling salts, blasting you back awake to this thing that we called ‘having a good time’ not so long ago.
Of course, at some point you’ll think about the fact that in the future these lodges will probably be dismantled as normality returns. But then, as a deep fried Mars bar appears at your table, drenched in toffee sauce and ice cream, you’ll mentally check out of London once more and head back to the highlands for more hilarity. Pack your kilts. It’s time to escape.