Tales from the Café by Giovanna Eusebi

Mundy and Jean weren’t their real names. My paternal grandparents, Giovanna and Edmondo had their English names bestowed on them by the Glaswegian clientele who frequented their café, Rendevous on Downhill Street. Their beginnings couldn’t have been more different. Giovanna was born in the southern Italian village of San Lorenzo, the daughter of peasant farmers and one of four siblings: Maria, Netta and Pierina.

I fondly remember asking her when she got married and she would recount the tale of her as a 16-year-old being taken to the mountain church in a cart pulled by a donkey. The poor animal had struggled and slipped all the way up the snow-dusted track. “It was just after the chestnut festival,” she said. It was in fact, October 1936 when they were married. It was such a beautifully simple way of measuring time; not by the clock, but by the seasons. The fruits of the natural landscape marked the days, it was the rhythm of another time.

In contrast her 17-year-old husband, Edmondo was the first generation of Scots Italians, whose parents were part of the human cargo who had left their homeland after the First World War. They settled in Coatbridge and later opened a café in Shettleston. My grandfather’s first job was selling ice cream from a hand-carved barrow. The barrow would be filled with huge blocks of ice to keep the freshly-made ice cream at the perfect temperature and consistency. He would walk the streets with his whistle to announce his arrival at the entrance of the local parks, or the nearby cinemas to sell “pokey hats“.

Just a few years later, their lives together were ripped apart overnight. In 1940, my grandfather was called up to fight for the British Army. His regiment, “The Argyll & Sutherland Highlanders” took him away from his wife and 2-year-old son, Eddie. The tour took him to Northern Africa and Egypt. He survived D Day, despite his boat capsizing and being unable to swim!

I often imagine my Nonna’s joy to see him alive and well on his return. She had managed to keep the café going, against all odds. Living each day not knowing if the war would end or if she would ever see her husband again. As well as the painstaking agony of waiting for Edmondo to return, she ironically had been the victim of anti Italian attacks on the café. She ran scared with her fellow Glaswegian neighbours to air raid shelters with my father in one hand and his tiny gas mask in the other. She had lived on ration books and endured the hardships that war brought to all, but continued serving customers each day with a smile.

The Rendevous Café in Partick continued to grow and began to manufacture ice cream in the 50’s and 60’s. Daily deliveries of 60 gallons of milk arrived from Sloan’s dairy in galvanised milk churns. Soft drinks from Barr’s and Dunn’s were transported by horse and cart, ready to sell to thirsty customers. On Sundays, people queued with their bowls and jugs to be filled with “Mundy’s “ ice cream as it became renowned in the city. The ice cream vans would deliver across Glasgow, from Drumchapel to Anniesland and Sandyhills. Selling out early in the day afforded my grandfather and father the chance to stop off at his local, “The Wee Mans” in the Gallowgate for a game of billiards on the way home.

Before our landscape was torn up by soulless out of town shopping malls and supermarkets, people lived, shopped and ate in their local neighbourhoods. Every evening a local lad from White Street would stop by when he finished his shift at the Clyde shipyards. He was learning to play the banjo and the jukebox in the café acted as his backing track. My Nonna and the rest of the family had a soft spot for him. He didn’t have a mum and like them, he never fitted in completely. They naturally got each other and he felt at home with them. This young mans name later became very well known as it was iconic Scot, Billy Connolly.

Despite the long hours in the café, the family enjoyed every happy moment in Glasgow. Returning to Italy for family holidays and eventually purchasing their own home, thirty years after starting their business. My grandfather afforded himself a Jaguar, bought from Arnold Clark’s first garage, on the site of the current Eusebi Deli establishment on Park Road. My Nonna was never seen without her signature red lipstick and pearls, her children’s clothes changed from once recycled hessian sacks to beautiful tailored garments.

Despite my grandfather dying suddenly in the early 70’s and my Nonna only a few years ago, their legacy continues to this day. It is a prime example to us all of a loving and courageous partnership, born out of under-privilege with a determination to survive and do better. A story that has enriched my life and left a lasting mark on the landscape of Glasgow.

Tuna Crudo by Giovanna Eusebi of Eusebi Deli in Glasgow

Serves 4

Ingredients

For the tuna

320g tuna loin

12 caper berries, halved

2 chicory leaves, cut into strips

Dill, a few sprigs to garnish

Salt and pepper

For the dill and curry dressing

15g curry powder

150ml extra virgin olive oil

10g dill

1 clove of garlic

2 sprigs of rosemary, stripped

Method

1. To make the dressing, blitz all the ingredients until smooth.

2. Slice the tuna thinly and place onto centre of the plate, place 6 caper berry halves, chicory leaves cut into strips, and then sprinkle the dill over the tuna.

3. Season with salt, freshly cracked pepper and spoon the dressing all over the tuna.