IT’S ONE of the great lockdown paradoxes that I am able to order dinner to be delivered to my home from a restaurant in London, or the Lake District or even Edinburgh (next week)…but not from a restaurant on the other side of Glasgow. Bearsden, say.

Yes, I’m thinking of you: Annoyed of The West who emailed to ask why I hadn’t reviewed your local Indian restaurant, among other things. This is simply because hot food delivery is still local and cold food delivery requires a high level of organisation. And usually DPD.

Of course, I can’t jump in my car and drive across to the other side of the city to collect hot food either unless I want trouble with Nicola. Which is why I’m jumping in my car tonight and driving across this side of the city. Only kidding, not actually across the south side. It’s virtually over the road, officer.

Rolling up outside a posh chip shop in Mount Florida, in the shadow of Hampden Stadium, to stand awkwardly in the street with some other awkward masked strangers, nobody making eye contact, until I kind of shout like a masked Dom Jolly: Hello! Are we all waiting for orders? Nods all round towards the weirdo (moi) and then someone comes out and it turns out mine is already ready. High five.

One of the other paradoxes of lockdown has been how masks and crises and online booking has made things seem cold and impersonal.

I’ve noticed, and probably it’s just me, that the concept of cheery service has slipped well below the eye line and everyone is doing everyone else a favour by providing food while the world goes to hell in a handcart.

I mention this because there’s no opportunity to ask anything of the person who whirls out the door with my bag. And when I phone Hooked later to ask a crucial question I don’t get an actual person but the usual endless and tedious (after a year) covid crisis messages followed by a list of all the things they can’t do, including unfortunately, answer the phone. Then it’s an answering machine. And as yet no return call.

On the subject of lockdown paradoxes, here’s another one: don’t those people who design those food apps that are absolutely coining it in just now ever consider how bloody annoying it is to go all the way through through the ordering process and only then be told: ha, ha no slots available. Yes, I’m thinking of you Koxedo by Ox and Finch, though it is completely widespread.

Oh, here was the question for Hooked: What’s in that gluten-free batter that we had on the haddock tonight? Ordered out of curiosity, enjoyed by everybody, described as being like eating haddock encased in Quavers (apparently a good thing). Rice flour maybe?

I can’t see an answer on the web page but the interesting thing about it is it was entirely crisp and dry. We would choose it again over the normal batter which, and possibly because fish suppers don’t travel well, was limp and really a bit too oily.

Hooked are one of the relatively new breed of chip shops which are pushing the culinary envelope – Catch, Salt N’Vinegar – there’s a few of them nearby.

I remember shouting there should be lots more of these, say, six or seven years ago and now I find myself nostalgic for the simple disappearing Glesga chippie and occasionally slipping round to the Golden Fry in Thornliebank for some of the old school hard stuff.

But brie in breadcrumbs, baked haddock with pesto in panko, or with lemon and parsley, cauliflower wings, squid, chilli and garlic – didn’t used to get all these in a chipper, did you?

Like the brie and the cauliflower wings (cauliflower in batter) though I forgot to tick the sauce box, baked haddock is pleasant too, not so sure about the squid and I’ve mentioned the traditional haddock. But I suppose suppers, unlike many other take-aways, are better the quicker they’re eaten.


1027 Cathcart Road,


0141 649 3994


Menu: It's a chip shop but one of the newish breed with panko options, gluten-free batters, brie in breadcrumbs, good choice though not a lot of detail on sourcing. 4/5

Service: Their website ordering worked quickly and was good, unlike many others, and collection was fast and pain free. No luck on the phone though. 4/5

Price: It’s £8 for a haddock supper nowadays, fair enough, squid £6.65, cauli wings £3.65. 4/5

Atmosphere: The great mask crisis means handovers nowadays are always impersonal affairs. Such is modern life. 3/5

Food: We were very surprised by the gluten-free batter option, ordered out of curiosity and yet light, oil-free and very good, the rest pretty much depends how far your supper has to travel. 6/10