Scone Spy: Glasgow's Singl-end is full of rustic charm

Singl-end's scone (Andrew Cawley / DC Thomson)

MY mum often tells stories about her days living in a single end.

Huge families all crammed in one tiny room not big enough to swing a cat, with a lavvy on the landing.

So when I visit Glasgow eaterie Singl-end, I’m somewhat surprised.

Yes, it’s just one room – but it’s a pretty huge one.

In fact, this single end occupies the entire lower floor of a sandstone tenement block.

It’s Thursday lunchtime and packed to the rafters.

My eyes are immediately drawn to the side of the room, where there’s a long table laden with freshly homebaked sweet and savoury treats.

There’s double chocolate cake, chocolate chip brownies, banana custard tarts and sticky toffee apple cake to name but a few and, in the corner, a mountain of scones. You can even buy a freshly baked oat biscuit for your dog!

Thankfully before I start to salivate, I’m greeted by a member of staff who shows me straight to a table.

As she fetches some menus, I can already feel the draw of Singl-end’s rustic charm.

The cushioned window shutters and stag antlers on the wall add a touch of warmth to the concrete floor, exposed pipes and bare brick walls.

A shelf filled with knick-knacks brings a pleasant air of antiquity. It’s a bit like being in your gran’s living room after Laurence Llewelyn-Bowen has given it a modern makeover.

I opt for one of the open sandwiches. Home-baked ham with guyere cheese and roasted vine tomatoes. Despite how busy the bakehouse is, it arrives within a few minutes. It’s absolutely delicious – and massive! At £7.50, it’s a little steep but, as I discover, worth every bite.

For a moment, I think it might be a struggle to fit in a scone but for the purposes of this article I soldier on!

There’s a choice of sweet or savoury scones. I choose blueberry with a coffee on the side.

When it arrives, I almost fall off my chair. You wouldn’t be hard pushed to mistake it for a door wedge but this much cake for just £3 is an absolute steal.

Served warm on a mini wooden chopping board, with a sizeable pot of blueberry jam and a huge knob of butter, it looks perfect. And it tastes even better! But there’s just too much of it.

If ever there was somewhere you should share a scone it’s Singl-end. Instead of cutting mine in half, I have to quarter it. I still manage to squeeze in every last crumb, though.

After settling the bill, which comes to less than £15, I drag my full tummy up the stairs, overhearing other customers giving their dining experience rave reviews. It seems the warmth and the spirit of the single end isn’t quite confined to the history books just yet.