The Highlands

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The menu lists haggis and sends a message across 500 miles: The Highlands is a Scottish pub, not an English one, with a small, 28-seat dining room whose grouse-print wallpaper and proper dining room chairs evoke the best restaurant in a quaint village lost somewhere between Glasgow and Edinburgh. The adjacent bar is another matter—twice the size, three times as loud and right out of SoHo. And, oh, are these rooms hot, both packed on weekday nights with a half-hour-plus wait for dinner. Don’t look for kitsch: Except for some ornately framed pipers on the walls and a stag’s head on the bar’s exposed brick, you’d never suspect you’ve strayed so far north of Hadrian’s Wall.

menu musts

Lamb sausage roll with mint, cress and harissa aïoli
Pound of cockles with shallots and Pinot Gris
Baked cod with bubble and squeak (fried leftover vegetables)
Lamb shank braised in Malbec with brussels sprouts
Jerusalem artichoke bake

sweet seats

The few tables along the padded bench in the glass-box window (a design touch that further proves the Highlands isn’t going for a “hoot, mon” aesthetic) are hands-down the best. One diner looks into the room, the other stares out at a quiet Village and, across the street, one of New York’s seminal gay bars—Julius.

chew on this

The Highlands is owned by Scots (and one Irish guy), but the chef, William Hickox, is as American as Old Glory—born in Texas and most recently cooking in Spain. (Executive chef Jeremy Chambers is a Scot, however.)

hours

dinner: Mon.–Sun. 6 PM–2 AM
brunch: Sat.–Sun. 11 AM–4 PM
no reservations

price range for dinner entrées

$18 (wild mushroom shepherd’s pie and pork faggot) to $25 (lamb shank)