IT had been a hard morning pounding the sidewalks in the big city and I was getting nowhere.
Clues were hard to come by and I was one disheartened detective, with sore feet and a bad attitude.
I had to smile wryly to myself – I might be a Glasgow gumshoe, but I would have fitted right in at a diner in downtown New York, home to the pushy, the impatient and the disillusioned.
My phone rang – it was the Moll, trying to track my whereabouts as usual.
“Where are you, Tec?” she blared.
I looked around. My travels seemed to have brought me to Woodlands in the West End. I reported in.
“Hey, that’s great!” came Blondie’s dulcet tones down the line. “I’m only a few minutes away – want to meet for lunch?”
I had to admit it, the thought of a little company and a nice stop somewhere held more appeal than eating a sandwich in the Buick.
I suggested the first place that caught my eye – the Eusebi Deli on the corner of Park Road.
“See you in five, honey!” said Toots and hung up.
Sure enough, a few minutes later, she sashayed around the corner. I don’t know what she was doing round these parts, but judging by the carrier bags, it wasn’t going to be good news for my wallet.
She stopped to a juddering halt.
“What is it, kid?” I asked nervously.
“Are you really sold on Eusebi’s, Tec?” she asked. “I’ve got nothing against it, but I love the look of that…”
By then she practically had her nose pressed up against the window of TriBeCa, a few doors down.
She must have spookily picked up on my New York state of mind – the place was billing itself a slice of the Big Apple, complete with pictures of yellow taxis and what look like a great brunch menu. I decided that brunch instead of lunch was exactly what I needed, and we took the plunge.
First impressions were good – it was New Yorky, but they weren’t overdoing it, and the place seemed funky and low-key, with comfortable chairs and tables and a glittering bar. Nice and grown-up.
I decided to go for the Eggs Benedict, a real treat I don't see too often on a menu. Two poached eggs sitting on toasted muffins and thick slices of bacon, and topped with a dreamy Hollandaise sauce. Heaven. The day was looking up already. But it was only half-over, so like a pro, I ordered it with a coke. Blondie, under no such inhibitions, ordered a big glass of Pinot Grigio to go with a waistband-busting five-egg omelette with lots of veg and roast chicken thrown in. Our waiter was so polite and attentive, we figured he must be working for tips, USA-style.
The scran arrived and lived right up to expectations, my eggs were delicious, a taste of luxury, and arrived with a dinky salad to add a bit of a healthy sideshow. The Moll's omelette was a beast, but she managed to clear her plate, though she needed a second glass of wine to seal the deal. A word, though. Check the small print - it came drizzled with a good dose of balsamic vinegar. I would have asked them to hold that, but fortunately Toots loves it, and her knife and fork clattered to the empty plate as she gave a contented sigh.
"That's set me up for the afternoon, Tec," she beamed. I ordered a very decent latte as I waited for her to drain the second wine glass. We looked longingly at the decadent dessert menu, but duty was calling and we reluctantly decided to call it quits - this time. After paying the very reasonable bill, we made a pledge to be back when we could do a Manhattan Transfer and make a night of it.
TriBeCa 144 Park Road, Woodlands, Glasgow, G4 9HB
Tel: 0844 357 7777
Food 3 Atmsosphere 4 Service 4
East Village five-egg omelette with roast chicken £10
Eggs Benedict £7.90
Glass of Pinot Grigio X 2 £10.50
Diet Coke £2.50
Latte £2.60
Total £33.50
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