Ottoman Coffeehouse CIC

11/10/2026

This is the 2nd visitor book. The first one's spine is cracked, its pages curling at the corners. It feels less like a visitor book and more like a passport full of visa stamps.

Every signature is a person with a life, someone who crossed oceans & time zones, passed through airports, slept in rooms that weren't theirs, somehow ended up on a quiet Glasgow street, through our door, into the Glasgow Musicians Society concert room, now the Ottoman Coffeehouse and left their mark.

They decided to just go and find a place they'd never been. Curious & brave enough to leave home. That's what we are a species that left the known, the familiar, to the unknown. Something in us couldn't sit still. We believed crossing the ocean or moving across manmade borders was something worth leaving. Some wanted to escape from hurt, or take a chance on something better. It's an inherent trait from our ancestors.

My father travelled, his friends travelled. I want to travel. looking at these names, how many of these people travelled for pleasure or pain? How many even think of us now, the short step into Ottoman's? How many went back, or travelled further? These names sat next to each other, names from another place.

Coming from Winnipeg, Portrush, Abu Dhabi. From a small town in Kansas you'd have to look up on a map. Writing their name next to a stranger's from a country they'll never visit, in a book they'll never see again, that rests in a coffeeshop they will forget.

I see Ottoman Coffeehouse differently now. It's a kind of oasis, a place where the great human migration, restless, hopeful, wanting to move, which briefly pauses. Where the traveller from the Bahamas, Rhode Island, Burlington, Abu Dhabi, Monterey, Austin, Toronto, New Zealand, Dallas, Denver, India, Paris, Andalucía, Jakarta, Chicago, Malaysia, Kansas becomes the guest. Where people from the world finds itself in a few square metres of warmth, for a few hours, before scattering like seeds across the planet again.

To every person who ever walked into a strange place & hoped to feel welcome.

This is Glasgow. A familiar place for the unfamiliar.

09/10/2026

Everyone moans about the rain here. The washing never dries, the school run’s a nightmare, and you can’t step out the door without a brolly. Fair enough, But I’ve lived in Glasgow for fifty years and along the years I’ve fallen in love with it. When it falls the way it does, I smile to myself.

It cleans the air. Feels like a shower that washes away the worries and the hurt, it's kinda refreshing. I wonder why I smile. It gives me happy thoughts, I’ve seen it all. The 80s winters that froze with snow piled up, traffic solid on the Kingston Bridge, cold coming through the windows. And the summer holidays we’d all cram in like we could store the heat for later, the parks were full.

But it’s the rain I miss most. It’d come down during those summer days and we didn’t run from it. We ran into it and out in the street in our t-shirts, jumping in puddles, rain splashing off the pavement, soaked to the skin and laughing. Going home to take a shower after being dirty playing outdoors. It’s a feeling only the kids that grew up in the 80s can understand.

Without the clouds ripping open, this wouldn’t be Glasgow. Just another city. The rain’s now in our blood. It’s in the air after a game, in the way we cherish a night out or a hot cup of tea.

Let them complain because they don’t see what I see.

This rain, it’s a love letter to the kids who grew up in the 80s. A reminder we’re a people grew up in the damp and cold who learned to find our own way. The Glasgow we know, I for one wouldn’t have it any other way.

06/10/2026

You should not open a coffee shop.

Ignore that little voice that says, "I could do this." I know that voice well. Years ago, it whispered to me too.

I'm not saying this because it's hard, or because most fail. I'm saying it because you will be tested in ways you don't expect. Even now, with a coffeehouse ranked No.1 in the UK, we still work 75+ hours a week.

If I could go back to the moment that dream first took hold, I'd be the voice behind the bookshelf in Interstellar, begging my younger self "Don't do it."

Back then, I didn't realise what it would cost, the early mornings that run into late nights, the daily worry you carry home, and the time with the people you love, especially the kids, that you quietly give up.

I think my stubborn younger self would do it anyway.

Maybe some dreams have to come true.

If, like me, you still insist on opening one, I want you to walk in with your eyes open and your heart ready.

Follow the series. Learn why you should not open a coffee shop, and how to open one anyway.

And to everyone who has ever sat in our shop and made it feel like home, you're the reason all of it was worth it. ❤️

Because a successful coffee shop isn't built on great espresso alone. It's built on a person who isn't afraid.

As someone somewhat once said, The more you have, the more you fear losing. The richer you get, the poorer you become in courage. You build a business to be free, only to find yourself held hostage by your own principles.

— Muhammad, co founder, Ottoman Coffeehouse, Glasgow

06/10/2026

We’ve been here since 6:40 getting everything ready. The espresso machine is hissing, steam curling up toward the ceiling. The grinder’s grinding, the low rumble still fading out. Music’s playing and the lights are on. Chairs are down, A-boards are on the pavement. The open sign is on the door. I’m standing behind the counter in an apron with a rag in my hand.

Customers walk in through the doors, which are open, obviously. They’ve managed to get past the A boards, down the corridor, they squint around at a fully operational coffee shop, and ask

Are you open?

Seriously.

Is this you?

If so, don’t take offence, but c’mon, have a look around. Has it not registered that you’ve walked into a coffee shop? Why are we here, just for fun?

What else do you need? A neon sign? Would that help? Maybe not.

It’s always first thing in the morning you get them. The ones who don’t want coffee, they just want to chat, and they go on and on about something that happened, and I’m standing there still thawing out, not a morning person (you probably can tell), running on nothing, trying to remember how to be a human before I’ve even settled in.

Thank God for my brother. He’s the morning person and loves to chat, and smile, and keep it going. Me? I’ve maybe done my quota of talking to people over the years. Maybe it’s age. Maybe I’ve just got too much going on up here before I’ve had a chance to settle or Maybe I don’t know.

Good morning to you guys anyway, and yes we open from 8am Tuesday to Friday and 10am at the weekend.

04/10/2026

Step through the door, leave Glasgow at the threshold. Lantern light, skylights overhead, and a room full of people taking their time. This is Ottoman Coffeehouse.
📍 Glasgow

Ranked No.1 in the UK by

04/10/2026

03/10/2026

Hanna works at Ottoman Coffeehouse and has been with us for many years. Now she’s doing something most people would never dare to do, she’s stepping into the ring at Glasgow Fight Night.

It takes a certain kind of courage to put yourself on the line like that. To train for 9 weeks and stand under those lights with 1100 people watching. She’s already a winner for me.

The last event sold out in 5 seconds. So if you want to be there when Hanna fights, get yourself a ticket.

TICKETS ON SALE 6th OCTOBER AT 10AM.
Tickets: £38 (£35 + £3.50 booking fee).

Date: Monday 16th November, 2026
Venue: The Galvanizers, SWG3
Doors Open: 5.30pm
First Bout: 6.30pm
Close: 11pm
Dress Code: Black Tie Optional, wear Black Tie if you fancy it, or keep it open collar and comfortable. Your call.

Tickets are non refundable, but will be refunded if the event is postponed or cancelled.

LOCATION
SWG3, G3 8QG.

30/09/2026

What happens when a coffee shop becomes yours?

Every town has that one spot.

The one where you take out of town friends because you want to show it off, where you’ve had first dates and the difficult conversations and the Sunday morning catch ups with people you love.

The coffeeshop that got you through that brutal winter, the tough university year, the job you hated.

The one where the barista knows your order before you reach the counter. Where you have a usual table. Where walking through that door feel like returning home.

You can get coffee anywhere.

But you can only get this here.

And once you’ve had that? It’s really hard to go back to your usual coffee shop.

And for the comments on our social media? Sometimes it’s polished. Sometimes it’s random. Sometimes it doesn’t look great.

Kind of like all of us.

Because we’re human and humans are messy.

We show up how we show up, that’s exactly what makes this place feel like yours.

So apologies for the random off topic posts.

27/09/2026

Chains are run by machines and management teams. Indie shops are run by people who are terrified, passionate and mad in equal measure.

6pm on a Saturday. The shop is full.

The grinder is getting hot, steam is hitting the ceiling, and there’s a couple arguing in the corner about something, would be interesting to know what, maybe he's deciding to buy a Porsche, doesn’t matter. People are laughing, some of the laughter sounds like an exorcism, many come here to read. To you, it looks like a vibe. To me? It’s controlled chaos.

For every smooth Saturday night, like this, there were years of uncontrolled chaos. Years of getting it wrong. Where I stared at the empty room, dreaming, wondering, if It would work.

Most days, this job is just fixing what broke and trying to keep the lights on. Doing the rota, Getting stock, missing the kids. Back pain, Always tired, You don’t see the panic behind the operation (hopefully). That’s our job to hide.

Shops like ours don’t survive because the coffee alone is good. We survive because you guys choose to walk past the big chains. You choose to forgive a mistake instead of slamming us on Google. You guys let a family business exist by giving us a chance when we mess up.

More than 80% of you prefer independents. That’s the difference between a generic high street and a street with soul.

We’re starting a series. The real stuff. Mopping floors at midnight, the thin margins, the why, the arguments, But for tonight? Tonight was good because you guys showed up.

We're grateful for a full stomach, a place to call home, our children who are safe. We know that's not everyone's story, not in this city, not in the world. But we can be a small, warm room on a cold street.

Safety and a full plate are not small things. ♥️

25/09/2026

A huge thank you to every single one of you 🫶

Whether you walked through our door or helped spread the word about us by word of mouth, we wouldn’t have lasted a year, never mind 10, if it weren’t for this local community. You are the reason we’re still here, and we never take that for granted.

We did want to address one small point though.

We keep pushing ourselves out there, competitions, SCA, Workdbestcoffee, awards, magazines, whenever the opportunity arises. But there are two things we’ll never do:

1. We won’t accept awards that don’t align with us morally
2. We will never pay for an award.

Any award, entry, or review we’ve ever received, we have never paid for. We’ve never paid for influencers or news articles about Ottoman Coffeehouse. Every bit of recognition we’ve earned, we’ve earned honestly.

We recently turned down an award because the sponsors behind it don’t align with the values we hold dear.

To finish off, We don’t want to be an international brand. We’re happy being a local Glasgow brand. This is our home, this is where we’re comfortable. This is our home ground. ☕🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿

Thank you for 10 years. Here’s to many more, together.