As a lifetime rowie-raver, I’m aye fascinated aboot the reaction of in-aboot-comers to the Neest delicacy.
Like chef Ainsley Harriott and food critic (my dream jobbie) Grace Dent last week, on Channel 4’s Best of Britain by the Sea. They had a tasting in Fittie – the perfect place, since local legend has it that the fatty morsels were first cooked for trawlermen to take on long sea trips.
That said, although I adore ‘em, the very sight of the greasy pat in the midst of up-and-doonie waves would have me instantly Spewy-Lewy. Nor have I ever been sure – are they rowies in the city and butteries among the choochters?
Ainsley wisnae that impressed, the uber-hyper chef reckoning you might as well rub lard straight on to yer thighs. Trouble was, they were served dry rowies. Aficionados a’ ken they have to be slavered in butter, maybe even hot. Then see fit that does tae yer hurdies.
My love affair began during school holidays, when me and my bestie went swimming almost every day to the beloved Bon Accord Baths, then across to the top of Union Street to the Mitzuku Cafe – AKA The Mitz. (Aiberdeen wisnae half posh.)
A buttered rowie and bottle (hopefully green) of Coca-Cola every day. You can keep yer lobster, langoustines, caviar, fillet steaks. Rowie and Coke is truly the nectar of the gods. Even today, both in oor 70s, we still sometimes order them in a cafe, or secretly gorge at home.
‘Like a croissant gone wrong’
Many moons later, I did indeed have to introduce a sleb to our unique morning titbit – apparently every wifie’s favourite telly gardener, Monty Don. Doing a series about various places in the UK, when he hit Aberdeen, my boss volunteered me as his guide.
We spent three days roon and aboot. That’s when I discovered I couldn’t multitask on film, finding it impossible to move and speak simultaneously. Showing him round our dear old Mastrick offices, when they instructed me to simply walk and chat, here’s me on camera: “I’ve walked here for 30 years.” Cut!
Come the actual tasting on camera, Monty did a brilliant job of pronouncing butteries delish
Also a bit of a foodie, the charming loon was desperate to taste guess fit? A fascinating morning at Chalmers Bakery in Bucksburn, as I oohed and aahed aboot how much he’d love ‘em.
Come the actual tasting on camera, Monty did a brilliant job of pronouncing butteries delish. Sadly, in private, he declared them “like a croissant gone wrong”. Sacrilege!
Later, we headed doon to the Castlegate for those iconic shots looking up Union Street. Now, what did you used to find at the Castlegate, apart from pigeons? We ca’d them feekie-drinkers – residents of the Model Lodging House in nearby East North Street, who quaffed I dread to think fit.
As we filmed, staggering up to Monty came a well-oiled gadgie, who peered into his face and spluttered: “You’re nae fae roon here!” Black-affronted, I tried to intercept, only to get the same treatment: “And fa’ d’ye think you are?” Cut!
Moreen Simpson is a former assistant editor of the Evening Express and The Press & Journal, and started her journalism career in 1970
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