Review: The Scottish Arms in St. Louis

Some time ago I was forced to say goodbye to my favorite wine shop. It started as an old dive bar, complete with rumors of mob ties (two bodies without any identifying features were supposedly found in the basement years ago), and was then transformed into a gorgeous tavern and an excellent wine
shop – full of its original dark woodwork and huge mirrors. Although I loved it and was sad to see it go, I knew that this unique space would eventually be rediscovered.

Finally, the Scottish have hoisted their flag, and the doors at 6-10 S. Sarah St. are open again as The Scottish Arms. What used to be the wine shop is now the nonsmoking dining room, and a patio has been built out back, a place where it doesn’t take much coaxing to get the ale down. But the bar remains much as I remember it, except busier and stocked with way more single-malt Scotch.

The Scottish Arms offers St. Louis diners their first chance at a menu devoted to “traditional and contemporary Scottish cuisine.” I admit that, at first, this was a wee bit scary. Scotland doesn’t exactly have good food buzz. Heck, mention haggis to almost anyone, and it’s likely that you’ll get a mock gag reflex in return.

But if you read the menu’s friendly description (“Haggis is nothing more than a sausage made from ground sheep, oatmeal and onions. Nothing more, nothing less.”), all of a sudden the concept of haggis on your plate seems plausible. And although the dish tasted a little bland by itself, once you add a touch of HP Sauce that sausage patty ain’t half bad. Apparently I’m not the only one who thinks so, either; on my last visit, the restaurant had sold out of the infamous dish.

Not all turned out better than expected, though. Inconsistent service dogged me, and during one visit they were even so short-staffed that cooks were being pulled off the line to wait tables. I certainly have to give them an A for effort on that one, but there was no excuse for the other two times when soups sat in the kitchen until they were lukewarm and drinks were only refilled after we desperately flagged down the server.

Before we delve more into the food, I would like to point out something. Spice mixtures similar to curry powder have for hundreds of years been a British staple (Scotland being part of Great Britain), and the menu boldly points this out. This love of curry powder was only strengthened by Britain’s colonization of India, where the native curry spice mixes take many forms. Although I think curry powder can do wonderful things to a dish, some of my dining partners did not agree, arguing that the yellow spice’s inclusion automatically ruined an otherwise delicious meal. Therefore, be forewarned that if you don’t like curry, it does accompany most of the plates – as decoration, seasoning or both.

The fish and chips were a tad bipolar. The chips were worthy of ordering on their own, and the fish batter was light and flaky, but, oddly enough, there was no taste to the fish itself. The ptarmigan, an arctic chicken wrapped in bacon with a red wine sauce, would have been better if the overabundance of sauce hadn’t completely drowned out the meat’s taste. However, I really dug the shepherd’s pie. Mashed potatoes jutting out of the enormous ramekin were reminiscent of Richard Dreyfuss’ mashed-potato-carved Devil’s Tower in “Close Encounters of the Third Kind,” along with juicy lamb and huge carrot chunks.

Ultimately, though, the establishment succeeds as a showcase for Scottish culture, and it is in this context that it truly thrives. Like the fare at its Irish cousin in nearby Soulard, the Arms’ generally better-than-average pub food is really just a bonus. What will keep you coming back is the patio on a nice night or live music while you unwind from a long day. You’ll be intrigued by the assortment of beers (mostly Scottish, Irish and English) and the aforementioned ridiculously huge selection of single-malt Scotch.

On my most enjoyable visit, it was the latter that made it so. I have seen some impressive lists of single-malt Scotches, and, at 86 bottles (counted by someone not drinking the Scotch), this list may be the most extensive I have seen in St. Louis.

Even at the bar, though, the service was lacking. I was mostly ignored for the better part of half an hour until a brilliant new bartender began his shift and finally took my order for a single-malt. He lit up immediately and proceeded to perfectly pair Scotches with each course I had that evening. An Islay with the mussels (the mussels are no longer on the menu), a Speyside with the salmon-prawns-and-bacon dish (also no longer available) and a long-aged Highland with a very interesting dessert, the Cranachan. This arrived in a sundae cup, fresh raspberries under a layer of seriously heavy (60 percent milkfat!) double cream mixed with oatmeal, honey and whiskey. A more decadent off-the-menu alternative is the deep-fried Mars bar with vanilla ice cream, dusted with powdered sugar and chocolate atop a crosshatch of chocolate syrup.

Of all the things I like about The Scottish Arms, I can’t help but think how perfect it would be to have had this bar on my college campus. I’m a little jealous of the Saint Louis University student who finds this some Friday afternoon while skipping class. To be able ease into the weekend with an order of Forfar Bridies, flaky meat-stuffed pastries, and a quick tutorial on single-malt Scotch would – nay, should – be every legally aged college student’s right.