Or that is what Tommy Tardie’s Flatiron Room seemed like to me. Situated behind a discreet entrance in a prestigious location on West 26^th Street in Manhattan this is unlike any bar I have ever visited.

I was lifting to my lips what was probably the most expensive glass I had ever seen. It was hard not to feel nervous knowing if I dropped it not only would over 40 thousand pounds worth of antique smash on the floor but an irreplaceable and almost unique part of Scottish history would be destroyed for ever.

Filipa Valente’s eyes sparkled as she enthusiastically described some of the traditional dishes that are typical of Lisbon. “You must try the Pastel de Massa Tenra” she enthused and described an exquisite Portuguese version of a Forfar Bridie or Cornish Pastie. “And make sure you have some Escabeche, a sauce we use on lots of things but is particularly good with baby sardines. And the Iscas is fantastic. It is Liver steaks fried in olive oil and eaten with potatoes.”

Like many Scots I have a not entirely unjustified reputation for having a bit of a sweet tooth. When the petit-fours are passed around with the coffee after dinner you might catch me watching to see if anyone declines to take theirs in the hope I might get a second piece. And if it happens to be fine Scottish tablet that is on offer you better watch out. I could well knock you over in the rush to get to the plate.