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“So tell me about your skink soup,” I heard myself say to the London-born waiter, who was gamely sporting a tartan tie. All around me at the Highlands, a self-consciously styled “Scottish gastropub” in the West Village, I imagined, bemused New Yorkers were asking the same question. And why not? At theme destinations like this, everyone’s happy to play the role of tourist for an hour or two. The wallpaper in the snug little dining room (which not so long ago housed an experimental restaurant called P*ong) was patterned with giant pink grouse, like in the bridal suite of a not very grand Scottish bed-and-breakfast. A stag’s head was nailed to the barroom wall. And here and there, youthful, shiny-cheeked pub crawlers were perched on stools, swirling glasses of the prodigious (and prodigiously priced) house selection of blended whiskeys and single malts with evocative, tongue-twisting names like Pittyvaich and Auchentoshan.

Skink soup, it turns out, is a glutinous, semi-palatable fish chowder (the dish was originally made with beef shanks, or “skinks” in old Scottish), and you’ll find a better version of it down the street at the Spotted Pig, where it’s more sensibly called smoked-haddock chowder. But the restaurant’s Scottish-American chef, William Hickox (formerly of Public), does a decent job of taking other classics from the threadbare Anglo- Scottish culinary repertoire and giving them a not-unpleasant gourmet spin. There’s a fanciful Scottish-themed risotto among the appetizers (made with barley and a scattering of white raisins) and very good sausage rolls (ground lamb wrapped in a flaky pastry crust). The salmon is sustainable, of course (it’s flown in from Loch Duart, on the northwest coast of Scotland), and house-cured. And you can get about a pound of New Zealand cockles flavored, in not especially Scottish style, with shallots and a splash of Pinot Gris.

The entrées tended to be slightly ham-fisted, like something you might find in the more ambitious establishments around, say, Pittyvaich. The beef Wellington ($28) was overcooked and oversalted, and the $20 suckling pig consisted of three meager, crackly skinned pieces of pork. For pig lovers, the dish to get is the pork “faggot,” which, as our garrulous waiter told us, is a kind of pork sausage (“loin, belly, and other leavings,” he said cheerfully) wrapped in caul fat and served over a savory onion marmalade and applesauce. Haggis, that famously gnarly Scottish delicacy, comes in for similar gourmet treatment (it’s shaped in sausage form and perched on a wheel of buttery mashed turnips and “tatties”), and if you don’t feel like eating all that meat, there’s an uncannily beefy-tasting shepherd’s pie filled with a mélange of diced artisanal mushrooms (oyster, hen-of-the-woods, shiitake) and sautéed kale.

But the real reason to visit this antic, aggressively themed gastropub (even the busboys wear tartan ties) are the whiskeys. The comprehensive list runs to eleven pages, covers all the geographical points on the great whiskey compass (from the northern islands to Speyside to the bogs of Islay), and includes flowery tasting notes on all the whiskeys. Who knew that a sip of smoky Bruichladdich ’01 ($16, from Islay) tasted faintly of “mint and peanuts” (it actually sort of does) or that a glass of the toffee-colored Gordan & MacPhail Mortlach from Speyside ($22) emits an aroma of “mulled fruit” and “oatmeal”? If you feel like a little something sweet after your haggis, I suggest the rice-pudding brûlée. Otherwise, make like you’re in some hard-bitten pub in Glasgow or the Isle of Skye and call for another round of drinks. — Adam Platt

Note

The restaurant serves an elaborate weekend brunch featuring kedgeree (an Anglo-Indian concoction made with smoked fish, hard-boiled eggs, rice, curry, and cream) and black pudding.

Ideal Meal

Lamb sausage roll or Loch Duart salmon, pork “faggot,” rice-pudding brûlée.

Related Stories

New York Magazine Reviews

• Adam Platt's Full Review (4/19/10)

Featured In

• Fall Preview 2009: More New Restaurants For Fall (8/31/09)

Recipes at Highlands

• Blood and Sand (2011)