The Butterfly and the Pig

ELEVEN years on from its opening, it is business as usual at Bath Street’s The butterfly and the pig. Everything else in the world seems to change – technology, its neighbours, fashion, my sense of self-worth – but this cosy basement pub remains a constant.

My first memory of visiting it: a free couple of hours in the middle of the university day, and a hunt for cheeseburgers that led us here. I remember the old tankard-style glass my beer arrived in, the mismatched crockery, the free verse menu that took repeated readings to decipher. I remember the way the gruyere oozed out the middle of the burger as I sank my gnashers into it, all my pleasure centers firing at once. We stoated back to class in a daze, delirious from the meat sweats. I mean, those are the kind of experiences you don’t forget.

Ten years on, those original wood features and artfully-shabby details are all still there. There’s live rockabilly and on weekend nights, when the place is ram-jam with hip punters waiting to head upstairs to the Buff Club. There, a raffish soundtrack of funk, soul and disco provides one of the best staple clubbing experiences to be had in the city: I have never had a bad night in there. And while it doesn’t have as many post-closing time options, the pub’s newer outpost in Shawlands represents that area’s regeneration as a hipster enclave perfectly. Because if your area gets a Butterfly and Pig, it must be cool.