Coia’s Café

473-477 Duke Street

Glasgow G31 1RD

0141 554 3822

IT was wet. Wet and miserable.

Well, that was on the outside. Inside I was pretty pleased with myself.

A case that had all the aspects of slipping down the drain had been turned around at the last minute and the good guys, including this old gumshoe, were back on top.

“When are we going out?” inquired the Moll from the hall, looking every inch the tall doll as the closing titles of my Shoestring boxed set started rolling.

“You should do some of your work on the radio. Just like Eddie Shoestring,” came the cry.

“He’s no’ real,” I replied.

“He’s a work of fiction.”

“Nothing fictional about this,” said the sultry one ambling ever closer, her lips eerily drawing towards a pucker.

“I’ll get my coat,” I said, perhaps too hurriedly, but I was in my new celebration suit from Slater’s and preferred not to get it creased mid Sunday morning.

“There’s a shiner of a diner we should go to.

"And if we get a move on, we’ll make breakfast and call it brunch.”

She mumbled something that sounded like “you’re the big man” but may instead have been “you’re a bit wan”.

My trench coat collar raised, trilby at a jaunty angle, brogues perfectly polished I stepped out the close and turned to take the hand of this likeable lass.

She stepped forward and sneezed fully in my direction.

“Aw, sorry about that, Tec. Awfy weather, in'it?”

We shimmied through the puddles penetrating the pavement along Duke Street and took shelter in one of the most warmly welcoming corners in the country: Coia’s Café.

Alfredo and Antonia Coia continue the legend that began in Dennistoun in 1928.

“You didnae start going here then, did you Tec?”

I winced as my hat and coat were taken by mine host.

We slipped into a booth by the window where her ladyship immersed herself in the menu.

Eggs Florentine, Eggs Royale, steak and eggs, traditional breakfast and Eggs in Purgatory.

“Purge a Tory, Tec? Whit’s that all about?” asked Toots. “It’s purgatory. Eggs poached in a Napoli sauce and a total joy,” I replied.

But we were each to opt for another Coia’s joy: Eggs Benedict.

This brunch delight of poached eggs perched on bacon – the doll’s made to her specific order, crispy of course – resting on finely baked muffins and smothered in Béarnaise sauce.

The attentive staff were readily on hand to produce two chilled glasses of freshly-squeezed orange juice.

“Just what I love best, Tec,” said Toots sniggering. “Orange juice?” I suggested. “Naw, a fresh squeeze,” came the almost predictable reply.

I decided the best action on my part was to look away swiftly to study the raindrops forming imaginative designs on the windows.

Part of the job does push me towards considered contemplation and invariably she tends to snap me out of it at the most unexpec…

“Tec! You’re off again. How many times do I have to tell you to stop dreaming?”

Our waiter appeared as if by magic and tried to tempt us further with the menu, but we’d already decided to pop into the Coia’s deli and take dessert home.

“Pure romantic,” she winked at the waiter.

“Pure Sportsound,” I swiftly nipped in.

“And when they say sport, they mean football.”

Breakfast Menu:

Eggs Benedict £7.95

Orange juice £2.05

Total: £20

Atmosphere – 4 stars

Food – 4 stars

Service – 4 stars