I tried Edinburgh's most copiously boozy Twenties-themed supper club

Inside the Kyloe supper club | Gaby Soutar

It wasn’t just the US that had prohibition, from 1920 to 1933.

We also tinkered with it in Scotland, though it was never nationwide.

However, Wick was the driest destination of all, as it wasn’t allowed booze for 25 years, after the Temperance (Scotland) Act of 1913. Poor old Weekers.

Anyway, there is no other era that is so ironically romanticised, in the world of booze.

That’s why Scotland has so many speakeasy-style bars, from Edinburgh’s Panda & Sons, which is in disguise as a barbers, to The Absent Ear in Glasgow, with its secret bell outside.

Now, Kyloe has got in on the trend, as it’s launched its first Prohibition and Roaring Twenties influenced Six by Nico-esque Subterranean Supper Club, which is running on April 9 and 24.

The first confusing thing is that it’s not in the restaurant, as we discovered when we rocked up to this venue, on the first floor of The Rutland Hotel. (The word Subterranean should’ve given us doughnuts a steer). It’s down in their basement pub, Heads & Tales, which doubles as the Eden Mill Experience.

We were shuffled outside, along the street and down stairs, where we knocked at the door and were asked for a secret password.

“Eh, open sesame?”

It seemed to work.

Inside, it’s very dimly lit, with swing music, white linen over tables and staff gussied up in themed outfits.

The supper club team | Contributed

Expect four courses and a welcome glass of fizz for £49.50, or add matching cocktails for an additional £30.

We kicked off with Cheese and Bread - aka torched and whipped goats’ cheese, though I let slip that my other half is averse to the caprine stuff, and they made him an Isle of Mull cheddar alternative, bless their hearts. It was a pleasant enough option with a plank of fromage, a fluffy twirl of the stuff, plus a splash of sherry vinegar reduction, pickled shallots, Melba toast, radish and chive.

The best bit by far was its twinning drink, which included a mini bottle of Johnnie Walker Black Label, hidden in a Lilliputian bread loaf, in reference to a bootleggers’ dough-based method of sneaking past customs. We were instructed to add this bottle to our long glasses of clarified apple, tonka and vanilla, for the headiest highball I’ve ever had. Very quaffable, but I had to pace myself and we were barely out of the starting gate.

Next up was Ham and Pineapple, which came with another Prohibition-era story, and a Pan American Airways coaster, as the airline was founded in 1927 to cater for US socialites who wanted to travel to exotic locations where they could get stocious.

This hearty dish included a large slab of room temperature shredded pork belly, with a mango salsa, piquant mojo rojo and a green halo of chimichurri.

Again, the cocktail was The Thing. This time, it was a shorter Aviation, with an edible Havana sugar paper stamp pegged to the side of the glass, plus a mixture of Porters Gin, Cocchi Americano, Noilly Prat, pineapple, bergamot and cardamon. Oh my.

Walnut spaghetti | Contributed

The next course, Beef and Wine, was my favourite food option. Apparently, this dish was also the usual choice of Al Capone, and I hope that’s all the Chicago mobster and I have in common.

Well, that and the fact that his middle name was Gaby. (Well, okay, Gabriel).

This bowlful was a walnutty, rich and balsamic-y chive-dusted ragu, with a whorl of spaghetti underneath.

I wouldn’t usually be into pasta, when I’m already three courses into a meal and neither, I’d guess, would most Italians, but I ate every last thread anyway.

The matching drink number three was Wine. Well, it looked like a nice glass of red, but was a juicy strawberry and blackberry lacto-fermented creation, with a hit of bourbon. Think mulled wine, but much better.

Another beauty, as was the final cocktail, Ice-cream. In tribute to the ‘near beer’ low alcohol equivalents made by breweries during Prohibition, this looked like a pint, but featured oolong tea, cream soda and vodka, among other ingredients.

I would have been happy just to have this for dessert, but there was also a little cherry and chocolate Italian meringue topped pie, to see us on our way.

We could still walk, as us lightweights didn’t finish any of our drinkies.

Despite that, the liquid elements are the shining stars of this meal, so definitely pay that extra £30.

Especially if you hail from Wick.

Kyloe (at Heads & Tales), 1-3 Rutland Street, www.kyloerestaurant.co.uk