Posts Tagged ‘fine dining’


Now first and foremost, I should say that I’m a coffee snob. That is to say, I’m not satisfied with the ground up dirt that passes your average quality control program for mass producing suppliers like Nescafawful or Home Brand Moulded Roasted Beans. Having said that, I don’t need to prove my taste buds by drinking “Kopi Luwak” coffee that only achieves the right “flavour” after the beans are defecated from some kind of feral animal.

This all started about four years ago, when a global cafe chain run by some kind of clown issued a public advertising blitz apologising for their woeful product. They claimed that they were going to turn the customer’s frowns upside down, which I guess has something to do with the clown. Given that their newly appointed 15 year old baristas have about as much experience drinking coffee as they do with personal hygiene, I viewed the announcement with some suspicion, to the point that I avoided the place like the plague… and I sincerely mean that if the plague is still around, then I’m sure you will find it in one of these establishments.<!–more–>

Anyway, after a sleepless night, then a 2 year old screaming in the car on a trip along the highway to hell, the only “cafe” I came across just happened to be the aforementioned McPlague Cafe. I quickly analysed my options… fall asleep at the wheel and kill an innocent family, tell a 2 year old “NO, we can’t stop at the playground”, or option 3, replenish my caffeine levels with a “barista made coffee” at the new an invigorated Plague Cafe. As the 2 year old’s scream peaked at 140db, the deal was sealed. I yanked the wheel and cut across 3 lanes of traffic to make the exit ramp. I got honked once to “You fucking maniac,” but I’m not sure if they were commenting on my driving, or choice of cafe. I think it was the café.

We walked into the *cough* cafe (I’m not sure why I coughed, it could have been a nervous reaction, or possibly my immune system kicking in) and the 2 year old dashed for the play ground.

“WAIT… put your rubber gloves on… and for the love of clowns, don’t lick anything!!”

After ordering my cappuccino, a double shot extra hot no sugar extra clean, I stepped back and had a chance to look at the other clientele. There were the gray nomads or pensioners, with their seniors discount cards who could only afford to share a stale muffin and small sized coffee. Then there were the truckers… eyes blazing from methamphetamines, needing a double caf with 20 sugars to wash down their “meds.” Their were some tourists who didn’t speak English, except when it came to picking items from the menu of this place. There was also a teenage guy in a hoody, who didn’t seem to order anything… I think he might have been a boyfriend or pimp to the 14 year old girl who was playing “expert barista” today. Then I zoned out for 3 minutes.

A wimpy voice murmured, “Number 897! – Cappucino, extra snot.”

Did she say extra snot, or extra hot? What happened to extra clean? “THAT’S ME!” I yelled.

I sat down and nodded at my partner as I flicked off the plastic lid to peer into the cup. She looked at me with sorrowful eyes, then glanced at the brown stain on the lid, “Are you sure you want to do this…. what’s in it?”

I looked down sorrowfully, noticing my shoe had just picked up a fresh piece of gum, “It’s better not to think about that. I’m hoping for caffeine.”

As the first luke warm liquid past my lips and touched my taste buds, I shuddered. I had a vivid flashback of 40 years ago, when as a child I fell into a stagnant pool of water in a gravel car park and received a mouthful of yuck. The skim milk I didn’t ask for simply wasn’t old enough to mask the stale aftertaste of the coffee beans that had been harvested 10,000 kilometres away then ground too early and left sit in an unsealed coffee grinder that was possibly cleaned when it was manufactured. Taking care not to put my hand on the flap of the bin, I pushed the cup through in one fluid movement, “it’s back to whence you came.”

Inspired from this News article