Ron Mackenna reviews The Kelbourne Saint, Glasgow

IT’S rarely a good sign when you have to get out of your seat and find a waitress in an almost empty restaurant simply to order. It’s even worse when you get one of those looks back that says: I was getting to you. Considering Gordon and myself practically had to rub ourselves in butter to squeeze our not unimpressive man bellies into the rather tight – for fatties, anyway – booths, getting back out again was a total pantomime. Never mind – as we never, ever say in the restaurant reviewing trade.

Having raised the Bermuda Triangle service, surely it will spring into action? Er, nope. In all the years I’ve been doing this I can’t remember a period when I have experienced such a run of restaurants with completely hopeless service. Last week was woeful. This is already worse.

There will come a point later when we are actually shouting at the people behind the bar for attention. I will also almost upset the table in rising unwisely to my feet to try to chase after a waiter who has just delivered cheap bread which was clearly cut many hours ago instead of the toasted sourdough that was promised.

OK, the Kelbourne Saint here thinks it’s a bar and a restaurant. And that rarely works well because bar staff stay put and waiting staff aren’t, er, supposed to.

It’s not helped by two facts.

One: we came for rotisserie food and said rotisserie, which is beautifully lit and prominently situated, has had zero food cooking on it since the moment, long ago, when we walked in. And I suspect long before that.

And two: that cunning slot allowing customers to see into the kitchen was designed to allow us to see the culinary magic. Not to see into what’s actually the staff gang hut.

It’s not all bad. If you’ll just allow me to get the following not-insignificant issue out the way we’ll get to the good.

The idea of ordering a full spit-roast chicken marinated in Grampian beer is so that when you lift the lid of the domed metal-serving dish you’re met with a thing of roasted, caramelised beauty. Not a pile of chicken portions. These not only have zero taste of beer, but if you ask me are drier and tougher and older tasting that that stuff they sell at Tesco for a fraction of the price.

“It’s amazing,” Gordon will later say. “That’s their big selling point and it’s the worst thing in here.”

Now, in case you think I get my kicks complaining about kids who are probably getting the minimum wage, this is surely a management problem.

Why spend £500,000 – a figure quoted by at least one online source – successfully transforming a tired old bar (one that featured in Trainspotting, incidentally) and not make sure it operates properly? Are the masterminds of these new restaurants all hanging around together boasting of how much they spent on the design instead of physically overseeing how they are running?

There’s much that’s good about this place. It could even become great. I say that because the dish of smashed broad beans and peas, olive oil and lemon zest (served with absolutely no chunky sourdough toast) is delicious. Even more surprisingly, the big bowl of home-smoked broad beans with aioli is fabulous. I simply can’t stop eating them. There’s a charred tamarind squid with radishes and pineapple that, small portion for £7 aside, is sweet and salty with squid that’s actually tender.

And the best dish of the night? We weren’t even going to order it. Two Blackridge pork loin chops, served on the rib, with a side order of collard greens and good, lightly-fried, salty chips. The chops are tender, buttery smooth and, in an era when virtually nobody can cook a pork chop, an absolute find.

I’d throw out the rotisserie if I was them. Or perhaps learn how to work it. Oh, and widen the booths for the fatties.

Menu: It’s meant to be all about the rotisserie but actually the best food goes nowhere near it. Interesting vegetable starters abound. 3/5

Service: Hopeless but pleasant enough when you finally got a hold of someone. 2/5

Atmosphere: Expensive refit of an old bar looks good; Glasgow excels at restaurant design. Redundant rotisserie lights the place prettily. 4/5

Price: Full roast chicken (in bits) £18 and upwards. Most starters a fiver or less, squid pricey at £7, pork chops worth £9 each. 4/5

Food: Forget the signature rotisserie chicken, which was awful in every way. Try the starters and the chops and there is still a lot worth having. 7/10

Total: 20/30