Kings Cafe

Incredible fish machine! Being from the coastal side of northern Germany, I have to say that the experiences I have made in this small fish-​paradise were of the kind to make me move to Glasgow forever. Unfortunately the weather is, well… let me say it this way — comparable to winter in Hamburg.
Chips — great, fish — fantastic! I added some kilos here to my fantastic body, made for belly-​dancing…

You gotta love it when something works. Evidently this «something» has been working for the Kings for a couple decades.
Hey all you retro café designers — put the bloody cupcakes down and come here and figure out what you forgot to stuff in your latest «diner».
Hot rolls, mac and cheese. Comfort food in a comfortable setting.
Later on Drunk chicks show up — hang around if you want to witness that.

I have mostly sampled Kings Café in the wee small hours of the morning after dancing up a storm in the Garage or (to make me sound cooler) Sleazy’s. I have many a hazy yet fond memory of guzzling chips and cheese, spilling sprinkles of chedder down my cleavage, onto the ground and having tomato sauce plastered on my forehead.
Sexy.
That is the reality of a night out. I walk by people like that and feel increasing embitterment and hatred these days, but a lot of us have been there. Maybe not red sauce on your forehead there, but close?
Anyway, even if you’ve not been to the Garage level of deepest, darkest drunkenness, you should at the very least experience Kings Café chips. Soft and succulent, they are about as good as it gets when it comes to Glasgow chip suppers.
Not the cheapest place ever but who is going to notice or complain? As far as fast food goes, it’s good nosh!

I didn’t want to become one of them, I promised myself I wouldn’t be that guy. It happened though.
Last Thursday morning, June 24^th, I set my alarm for 6am, got up early and went to see if I could find myself an iPhone 4. I know, I know!
Great Western Road? Hmm maybe, but a bit too far from work to get in on time. Quick dash to Sauciehall Street then. Aye right. Buchanan Galleries? Not a chance.
I looked down Buchanan Street at the Apple Store and saw the queue snaking toward me, beckoning me like the devil’s finger. Everyone in the crowd turned in unison and looked straight at me. ‘Join us!’ They hissed.
Oh god, I had become that guy. I didn’t want to be that guy.
I turned, plugged my headphones to block the voices, and headed to work. I can wait.
As I approached the office, happy in my choice, the thought struck me that I was going to be early, really early. Life is way to short to be starting a 9 to 5 at 8am. So I went for a stroll, and my feet took me here.
Yet another internal dialogue.
‘Should I?
Seems a bit unhealthy, I should probably just grab some cereal when I get to work.
Yeah but, you have time to kill, money in your pocket.
Yeah but.
No buts! Not today. You could be in that queue right now, you took the right path. Go on, you deserve it.‘
I wandered in, and sheepishly asked for a roll and sausage.
The guy serving said something that I did not understand, but he gave me a winning smile, so I smiled back. It was a moment.
I stood outside in the glorious sunshine, munching on my roll, and watched the crowds gradually gather on their way to the offices.
I don’t know if it was the lack of sleep, the philosophical musings or the sunny weather, but it was the best damn roll and sausage I ever had.

Deep fried Mars bar.
I don’t know what else they serve here, but for the Scotland treat that no one in Scotland actually eats, come here. The people are friendly and will make you an odd concoction that is famous the world over.

A long standing Glasgow institution, The King’s Café is the first port of call for a quick bite after pubbing and clubbing.
The chips and cheese they serve here are the best in Glasgow. They double deck the cheese, putting some under the chips and on top of them which is amazing! I would thoroughly recommend that! They are more of a chip shop than a café though, but they do pizzas and pastas to take away and there is a wee sit in bit, so i suppose it is a café by definition!
Definite stop on the way home from the bars.

The King’s Café, as Nicola rightly says, is actually a chippy (although they make a decent cup of tea) and it has the priveledge of being Glasgow’s oldest one. Out of all the ones that have come and gone then, you figure King’s must be decent to still be around. I figured so too and so I went in one morning for my daily fix of all things fried, unhealthy and delicious. All the things that Scots shouldn’t, but love to, eat for breakfast are on display from black pudding through to square-​sliced sausage. Maybe some one tipped them off that I was coming and that I would be easily influenced into spending, and subsequently eating, too much but I’m glad I did.
If the quality of their lunch and dinner items are up to par with the breakfast wild horses won’t stop me coming back whenever I’m in the Charing Cross area. In fact I can only hope that they aren’t open late at night when I’m coming out of a club on Sauchiehall Street!
As for the «café» itself its a fairly nondescript chippy, and if you’re expecting Glasgow’s oldest chippy to be in an grand, ancient building you’ll be disappointed but go on and get something to eat and you’ll change your tune.
Nothing mindblowing or revolutionary here just good scran that will leave you wanting more. And more. I could go on. And on…

Don’t let the name fool you. It’s really a chippy!
And not a bad one, at that. I’ve heard the odd complaint about the King’s Café lately. The soup is too salty. Some of the staff are miserly and rude. I don’t suppose you can blame them.
My own short and sweet little visit was a fine experience, however. I left work absolutely starving, with the words «Fritter Roll…» swirling about my wee head, so I decided to throw caution to the wind and grab myself something from beneath those hot, grubby lights. Fritters!
The chap who served me looked bored out of his mind, but was lovely nonetheless. He even threw in a few extra fritters for good measure. I imagine they were going to waste anyway, but I appreciated the sentiment and trotted back out into the night and a freezing cold Charing Cross train station ’round the corner.
Can’t complain!