Bice and I went for coffees this morning. We walk past five cafes to get to Villino Espresso to order our usual Double Restretto Flat White, Chai Latte and other assorted coffees for colleagues.
We wouldn’t do this if we were not specifically ‘into’ the Villino experience. If we were simply going to purchase a hot drink, why would we walk past five cafes to do so? Villino offers a whole that is far greater than the sum of its parts – parts which are available across disparate cafes, but only together in one place.
Believe it or not, this post isn’t all about pimping my favourite cafe. This morning, we discovered something strange.
Bice had a hankering for doughnuts, so we made our way – Villino drinks in hand – to Donut King. Donut King are known for there lovely hot cinnamon doughnuts. The fact that they have a sign on the counter that says “Great Coffee!” does not necessarily inspire much confidence in the prowess of their ‘barista’. A gentleman greeted us and immediately (but reasonably politely) enquired as to the origin of our beverages. Having received his answer, he informed us that they too make “pretty good coffee” themselves and suggested that next time, we give them a try. He asked us what we had and I promptly replied with “a doppio ristretto flat white” in an attempt to flummox him with my coffee wankery knowledge. After making Bice’s “donuts” for him, he returned with a small flat white (on the house) and told me to give it a try when I got back to work.
I did so and was pleasantly surprised. Not because the coffee knocked my socks off, but because I had assumed that the gentleman from Donut King wouldn’t know a good coffee from a cup of cigarette ash and water. To be honest, the coffee was far better than the slop that is produced in a large proportion of cafes around Hobart – Better than it should have been, considering the source.
The moral of the story? Don’t judge a coffee by the logo printed on the cup.
PS: You can rest assured that I’ll still be going to Villino tomorrow morning. It wasn’t that good.
Dylan Moran is surly, yet eloquent. I went to see him with Bice tonight at Wrest Point. The halls, both Tasman and Plenary, were packed with people who have some sort of appreciation for churlish Irish humour.
I get the impression from his comedy that Dylan Moran shares some key similarities with his television persona, Bernard Black. His penchant for alcohol, smoking and picking holes in the human condition leave me concerned for his family. I hope, for their sake that he is somewhat more laid-back in the home.
All in all, it was a hilarious and fun night. Hopefully this will inspire me to break my blogging drought.