Most cafes I visit are most likely to be in Dublin where I live. Some of my favourites are listed in the sidebar. Occasionally I get to visit cafes and coffeehouses elsewhere, some of which I blog about, but most of which I don't. This one is worth taking the time to write a few words of personal recommendation (for what that's worth, right?).
A couple of days away with the family to County Cork this week provided the longed for opportunity to walk around Cork City. I've become very found of Cork very quickly. For a start I like how the main shopping area has developed between the River Lee and a southern channel of the same river thereby forming a shopping island. The gloriously wide avenue of St Patrick's Street attempts to cut the island in two before it sweeps around and asks Grand Parade to complete the task. The tributaries of this main route provide some fascinating small streets and laneways where you will find independent clothes shops, art and craft stores, bakeries, chic restaurants, bookshops and a couple of fantastic traditional toy shops where batteries are not included because they are not needed! The English Market also offers some fine fare with fruit and veg, cheeses, breads and olives, fish so fresh you think they're still breathing (and lobsters which are), meat of every variety, and a chocolatier who provided sweet treats for Queen Elizabeth's recent historic visit.
But I'm not writing a piece for the Cork Tourist Board. I want to tell you about O Conaill Chocolate Bakery Cafe. It's located on French Church Street, one of those alluring passageways off St Patrick's St. On a cold, gray January afternoon the warmth from within the cafe seemed to be silently suggesting that to walk past would be foolish, forever leaving you wondering what it might have been like. Now here's the thing: For most people the choice of whether or not to enter would be easy, but when you have four children in tow, one of whom is still in a buggy and by the sound of things needing a nap, you think twice before entering. But in we went, such was the attractive power of the place.
Clearly this is a popular spot in Cork as all seats downstairs were taken, while upstairs at tables and couches another crowd sat, sans enfants, with only the company of other adults or a book. I will admit that I was more than a little jealous. There was even a queue for take away coffee and hot chocolate! But then a vacancy became available and it was perfect: a hightop table, surrounded by stools, which was large enough for all of us with room for four more children - should we have desired!
As is clear by this blog, if I'm going to write about a cafe it's because I have a coffee there. This was no exception and the regular latte served to me was most acceptable. No doubt countless other people go to O Conaill's for the coffee (and huge cookies for just 1euro! Nice), but with certainty people go for the hot chocolate. Not because it's served up in a huge mug with mountains of marshmallows, capped with too much whipped cream and drowned in sprinkles - far from it. This is hot chocolate for the more discerning palette. My wife enjoyed a dark chocolate, cinnamon and orange drink decorated with a small tricolour of mini chocolate buttons on the side. It was most agreeable and my wife gave it the rating of the second best hot chocolate she has ever had. (You'll have to ask her about the first.)
To top off the experience three delicious drinks were served to my older children. Then when the chocolate barista noticed our youngest was a little more than unsettled he provided a complimentary warm milk with just a drop of vanilla essence. It did the trick in seconds.
I've gone out of my way to Cork for coffee in the past, but I wouldn't recommend that cafe now. (Anyway, I don't think it's still there). However, if you are ever in the Cork region it would be well worth your while visiting the O'Conaill Chocolate Bakery Cafe on French Church Street.
An added bonus is that they also have a bakery down another one of those lovely side streets!
Wednesday, 4 January 2012
Sunday, 1 January 2012
New Year - Try Again
No one ever really keeps New Year resolutions and I am no exception. I've stopped trying.
But a thought popped in to my head so I reached for my blog again.
Happy New Year! I hope you'll read on below.
But a thought popped in to my head so I reached for my blog again.
Happy New Year! I hope you'll read on below.
My Personal Coffee History - Part 1
This morning I made a cafe latte for my wife and myself. The beans were roasted just a few days ago at one of my favourite specialty coffee roasters in London - a blend of El Salvador and Guatemala - and then precision ground just seconds before I brewed. The resulting thin flow of espresso from my machine was reminiscent of dark, golden honey with a buttery, sweet fruit aroma. Steaming the milk I then added it into the rich coffee base managing to pour the shape of a heart on the top - especially for my wife. Delicious.
But it hasn't always been like this.....
The first cup of coffee I remember making was for my dad and a friend he was meeting with at home. I'm not sure what it was - probably Nescafe, but I also remember Cafe Hag floating around the kitchen. Whatever it was, it was instant coffee. (It's okay. I was just a kid. I didn't know any better.) I would have been around eight or nine years old and the responsibility of handling a kettle of boiling water then bringing the cup of hot, brown liquid to my dad is what made the impression on me rather than the coffee itself: 1 tsp of coffee granules, 2 tsps of sugar, add some milk (full-fat back then) are the instructions I recall. Nevertheless, it was the start of a journey which has and still does bring a moment of pleasure with every cup.
I drank tea before I drank coffee, and at quite a young age. My mother was from Ireland and my father England - two great tea drinking nations. It came naturally. I still drink tea today (possibly just as much as coffee; some days more so), but I no longer drink it with lots of sugar as I did when I was younger. On rare occasions someone may accidentally hand me a cuppa with sugar in it which I will, of course, graciously accept and for a moment I'm transported back to different times simply through the taste of hot, sweet, milky tea. On the flip side I struggle to drink coffee with sugar added to it. A freshly brewed cup of quality coffee will be naturally sweet and probably more flavourful without milk.
I can't say for sure when I started drinking coffee, but I would guess it wasn't too long after learning the art of independent coffee production. I certainly can remember coming home from secondary school (11 yrs old), flicking on both the kettle and the TV and sitting down to enjoy a cup of coffee and a Wispa chocolate bar. (Thank you Cadbury's for bringing them back!)
Cups of sweet tea and instant coffee were all well and good, but an early milepost in this journey occurred when a new coffee machine appeared in the kitchen of our small house in South Wales. I have a vague feeling that we already owned a coffee percolator (can there be a worse way for brewing coffee?), but this was different. It was a present from my dad to my mum I think and it featured two main functions. One was that it brewed ground coffee into a small jug at a high ratio of coffee to water in order to extract as strong a flavour as possible. The other feature was a steam arm used to heat, no scald, a jug of milk. This morning as I steamed my milk I carefully skimmed the surface introducing air to the milk and stretching it with fine microfoam. The result is a velvety, textured milk brought to a high enough temperature to produce a caramel sweetness, but stopping before the milk gets too hot and tastes burned. Back in my mother's kitchen however the aim was to produce big bubbles in the milk by raising and lowering the milk jug so the steam arm would gurgle while submerged and splat as it was removed from the milk only to dive back in again. The result was astonishing and the finished product was affectionately and rather aptly named. This was years before knowledge of the cappuccino. This was the age of the Frothy Coffee. No matter the quirkiness of the name the very act of personally crafting such a drink was enough for me. I was smitten.
Years later and then living in England I learned a valuable, but heart-breaking lesson. My grandmother accidentally placed that frothy coffee machine on top of a hot oven. It melted and was ruined. I hugged my grandma while she cried and told her that it didn't matter. It was just stuff.
Today I am very happy with my growing and varied collection of coffee machines, grinders and brewers. It has become quite an investment, but is very satisfying. I do feel a little bit proud when every now and then I get a drink just right. But I've learned to hold loose to it all. There are things far more important than coffee.
More thoughts on this journey to follow.
But it hasn't always been like this.....
The first cup of coffee I remember making was for my dad and a friend he was meeting with at home. I'm not sure what it was - probably Nescafe, but I also remember Cafe Hag floating around the kitchen. Whatever it was, it was instant coffee. (It's okay. I was just a kid. I didn't know any better.) I would have been around eight or nine years old and the responsibility of handling a kettle of boiling water then bringing the cup of hot, brown liquid to my dad is what made the impression on me rather than the coffee itself: 1 tsp of coffee granules, 2 tsps of sugar, add some milk (full-fat back then) are the instructions I recall. Nevertheless, it was the start of a journey which has and still does bring a moment of pleasure with every cup.
I drank tea before I drank coffee, and at quite a young age. My mother was from Ireland and my father England - two great tea drinking nations. It came naturally. I still drink tea today (possibly just as much as coffee; some days more so), but I no longer drink it with lots of sugar as I did when I was younger. On rare occasions someone may accidentally hand me a cuppa with sugar in it which I will, of course, graciously accept and for a moment I'm transported back to different times simply through the taste of hot, sweet, milky tea. On the flip side I struggle to drink coffee with sugar added to it. A freshly brewed cup of quality coffee will be naturally sweet and probably more flavourful without milk.
I can't say for sure when I started drinking coffee, but I would guess it wasn't too long after learning the art of independent coffee production. I certainly can remember coming home from secondary school (11 yrs old), flicking on both the kettle and the TV and sitting down to enjoy a cup of coffee and a Wispa chocolate bar. (Thank you Cadbury's for bringing them back!)
Cups of sweet tea and instant coffee were all well and good, but an early milepost in this journey occurred when a new coffee machine appeared in the kitchen of our small house in South Wales. I have a vague feeling that we already owned a coffee percolator (can there be a worse way for brewing coffee?), but this was different. It was a present from my dad to my mum I think and it featured two main functions. One was that it brewed ground coffee into a small jug at a high ratio of coffee to water in order to extract as strong a flavour as possible. The other feature was a steam arm used to heat, no scald, a jug of milk. This morning as I steamed my milk I carefully skimmed the surface introducing air to the milk and stretching it with fine microfoam. The result is a velvety, textured milk brought to a high enough temperature to produce a caramel sweetness, but stopping before the milk gets too hot and tastes burned. Back in my mother's kitchen however the aim was to produce big bubbles in the milk by raising and lowering the milk jug so the steam arm would gurgle while submerged and splat as it was removed from the milk only to dive back in again. The result was astonishing and the finished product was affectionately and rather aptly named. This was years before knowledge of the cappuccino. This was the age of the Frothy Coffee. No matter the quirkiness of the name the very act of personally crafting such a drink was enough for me. I was smitten.
Years later and then living in England I learned a valuable, but heart-breaking lesson. My grandmother accidentally placed that frothy coffee machine on top of a hot oven. It melted and was ruined. I hugged my grandma while she cried and told her that it didn't matter. It was just stuff.
Today I am very happy with my growing and varied collection of coffee machines, grinders and brewers. It has become quite an investment, but is very satisfying. I do feel a little bit proud when every now and then I get a drink just right. But I've learned to hold loose to it all. There are things far more important than coffee.
More thoughts on this journey to follow.
Thursday, 25 August 2011
Signs and Wonders
Every now and then I have to travel from my home in Dublin up to meetings in Belfast. It's only a couple of hours drive, but - depending on who you talk to - you do get to cross and international border. I'm happy to make the journey with other people, but if I'm honest I quite relish the time alone in the car for a few hours. I usually take along a couple of podcasts to listen to: often some theological seminar balanced by Car Talk for the way home.
Today as I was approaching Lisburn (I think) just outside of Belfast I happened to see a small sign at the side of the road that advertised a near by "coffeehouse". That phrase caught my attention because it isn't often used this side of the Atlantic and I began to wonder what delights were to be found. I drove on and thought to myself, 'I should stop there sometime and check it out.'
You may or may not be surprised at how often I think to myself, 'Oh I must.....sometime.' Perhaps you encounter similar wistful moments. It wasn't until a minute later that I thought about how I was making good time that morning and maybe I should turn around and find the coffeehouse that was luring me. If not now, when?
On managing to turn the car around and find the sign again I turned down a small country road, eventually pulling into a car park of what looked like a block of warehouses. The "coffeehouse" was actually a large restaurant, but it looked pleasant enough so I went in, ordered a latte, declined a scone and sat in a sofa by the window. There was no one else around so it wasn't long before my coffee was brought to me.
Wow.
I haven't seen coffee presented like this in a loooong time. The drink was in a tall glass mug which was not too unusual. It did however allow a view into the overwhelming proportions of coffee and froth. It was an even 50/50 split in the mug with another third again of froth on top, sitting like a delicate white meringue peak still soft from the oven. I sensed that the girl who brought me the drink was quite pleased with her creation and I wondered for a moment what training she was given. Is this something you learn in a book or watch a video? Or perhaps it was a skill passed on from the older proprietor of the restaurant because 'that's the way our customers like it.'
Unfortunately I didn't. This wasn't helped by being able to see coffee grounds sitting at the bottom of the mug. All of which goes to prove that spontaneity and going down the road less travelled isn't always all it's cracked up to be!
Today as I was approaching Lisburn (I think) just outside of Belfast I happened to see a small sign at the side of the road that advertised a near by "coffeehouse". That phrase caught my attention because it isn't often used this side of the Atlantic and I began to wonder what delights were to be found. I drove on and thought to myself, 'I should stop there sometime and check it out.'
You may or may not be surprised at how often I think to myself, 'Oh I must.....sometime.' Perhaps you encounter similar wistful moments. It wasn't until a minute later that I thought about how I was making good time that morning and maybe I should turn around and find the coffeehouse that was luring me. If not now, when?
On managing to turn the car around and find the sign again I turned down a small country road, eventually pulling into a car park of what looked like a block of warehouses. The "coffeehouse" was actually a large restaurant, but it looked pleasant enough so I went in, ordered a latte, declined a scone and sat in a sofa by the window. There was no one else around so it wasn't long before my coffee was brought to me.
Wow.
I haven't seen coffee presented like this in a loooong time. The drink was in a tall glass mug which was not too unusual. It did however allow a view into the overwhelming proportions of coffee and froth. It was an even 50/50 split in the mug with another third again of froth on top, sitting like a delicate white meringue peak still soft from the oven. I sensed that the girl who brought me the drink was quite pleased with her creation and I wondered for a moment what training she was given. Is this something you learn in a book or watch a video? Or perhaps it was a skill passed on from the older proprietor of the restaurant because 'that's the way our customers like it.'
Unfortunately I didn't. This wasn't helped by being able to see coffee grounds sitting at the bottom of the mug. All of which goes to prove that spontaneity and going down the road less travelled isn't always all it's cracked up to be!
Sunday, 31 July 2011
Accents Coffee & Tea Lounge
I knew the first time that I entered Accents Coffee & Tea Lounge that if anything was going to awaken me from my blogging slumber then this was going to be the place that did it! (The fact that it has taken half a dozen visits before I write should, perhaps, be left unsaid.)
I came across a flyer advertising the cafe in a local community centre while attending for my daughter's end of year Feis. That community centre is about 4 or 5km from the cafe which just goes to prove that the further you throw your net the more likely you are of catching something. But why would I want to go to a cafe which is a bit of a distance from where I live?
The answer to that question was on the hand-held advertisement: It wasn't the 50% off voucher. It wasn't the 'Cadbury's purple' colour scheme of the design. It was simply the inviting words: "Open until 11pm."
Finally! A cafe in Dublin that stays open past 7/8pm. My local coffeehouse used to stay open 'till the wee small hours......but not anymore. I had to get down to Accents to check it out.
I did and it's great. An almost perfect coffeehouse. The kind of place that, were I to run my own cafe, it would be very much like this. For me it takes the Starbucks model of a 'third space', a home-from-home environment, and says we can do better. And they do.
The cafe is spread across two floors: the ground floor with serving area, a few tables and sofas and a nook which is home to a well stocked bookcase. Then there is the basement which is not the dingy sort of affair that you often find in coffeehouse basements, but is very comfortably furnished with sofas, chairs, huge beanbags, handmade tables, portrait photos on the wall (I think I spot the owner??), and lighting which is subtle but still bright enough to read a book from the further selection available.
Added to this are coffees in their usual shades, a wide variety of teas, chai (which I'm happy to admit I have no idea what it really is, let alone tasted), plus a fantastic hot chocolate that you would go out of your way for on a cold winter day....and quite probably a cold Irish summer night.
To top it off they a completely family friendly. In fact they positively encourage families to visit!
There's more I want to say about Accents Coffee & Tea Lounge, but I'll save it for another post. Suffice to say, well done for creating a wonderful and much sought after space.
I came across a flyer advertising the cafe in a local community centre while attending for my daughter's end of year Feis. That community centre is about 4 or 5km from the cafe which just goes to prove that the further you throw your net the more likely you are of catching something. But why would I want to go to a cafe which is a bit of a distance from where I live?
The answer to that question was on the hand-held advertisement: It wasn't the 50% off voucher. It wasn't the 'Cadbury's purple' colour scheme of the design. It was simply the inviting words: "Open until 11pm."
Finally! A cafe in Dublin that stays open past 7/8pm. My local coffeehouse used to stay open 'till the wee small hours......but not anymore. I had to get down to Accents to check it out.
I did and it's great. An almost perfect coffeehouse. The kind of place that, were I to run my own cafe, it would be very much like this. For me it takes the Starbucks model of a 'third space', a home-from-home environment, and says we can do better. And they do.
The cafe is spread across two floors: the ground floor with serving area, a few tables and sofas and a nook which is home to a well stocked bookcase. Then there is the basement which is not the dingy sort of affair that you often find in coffeehouse basements, but is very comfortably furnished with sofas, chairs, huge beanbags, handmade tables, portrait photos on the wall (I think I spot the owner??), and lighting which is subtle but still bright enough to read a book from the further selection available.
Added to this are coffees in their usual shades, a wide variety of teas, chai (which I'm happy to admit I have no idea what it really is, let alone tasted), plus a fantastic hot chocolate that you would go out of your way for on a cold winter day....and quite probably a cold Irish summer night.
To top it off they a completely family friendly. In fact they positively encourage families to visit!
There's more I want to say about Accents Coffee & Tea Lounge, but I'll save it for another post. Suffice to say, well done for creating a wonderful and much sought after space.
Wednesday, 2 February 2011
An Unfinished Project
My guess is that blogs can be broken into three categories. Those that write prolifically about anything and everything, those that write half-a-dozen posts before giving up entirely, and then there's the rest of us. By that I mean those who stop-start-stop-apologize for not blogging in a while-start again and write profusely-stop-apologize again-start-then disappear for an undetermined period of time. I place myself firmly in this last category.
And yet I've never felt like I was done with blogging even though the general popularity of it has seemed to fade somewhat. (Please be assured that I am most certainly not done with coffee!) Unfortunately I allowed Views from a Coffeehouse to become another in a fairly extensive list of unfinished projects - along side sorting out photos, putting pictures up, getting in shape, editing home videos, memorizing poetry, cleaning out the den, and goodness knows how many books.
So here I am again almost five years to the day when I first started and I'm going to give it another go. I still want to tell you about the things I'm seeing/hearing/reading over coffee. I might do some coffee videos. I'd like to write up my personal history of coffee. Plus I never did actually fully write about when I visited every Starbucks in Ireland - though I'm not sure there's much point. Once you've been to one Starbucks.....
Speaking of the 'bucks, I have noticed that the stats which now are available for me show my post about McCafe vs Starbucks as the most visited page. If you google "mccafe vs starbucks" I come out as number 2 in the USA and UK and number 1 in Ireland! I'm just a little bit proud of that insignificant achievement.
Right, I've just used my new hand grinder (thanks mother-in-law) and brewed some beans from Machacamarca, Bolivia using my aeropress. Time to find out how to freshen up this whole blog a bit and get going again.
To Coffee!
And yet I've never felt like I was done with blogging even though the general popularity of it has seemed to fade somewhat. (Please be assured that I am most certainly not done with coffee!) Unfortunately I allowed Views from a Coffeehouse to become another in a fairly extensive list of unfinished projects - along side sorting out photos, putting pictures up, getting in shape, editing home videos, memorizing poetry, cleaning out the den, and goodness knows how many books.
So here I am again almost five years to the day when I first started and I'm going to give it another go. I still want to tell you about the things I'm seeing/hearing/reading over coffee. I might do some coffee videos. I'd like to write up my personal history of coffee. Plus I never did actually fully write about when I visited every Starbucks in Ireland - though I'm not sure there's much point. Once you've been to one Starbucks.....
Speaking of the 'bucks, I have noticed that the stats which now are available for me show my post about McCafe vs Starbucks as the most visited page. If you google "mccafe vs starbucks" I come out as number 2 in the USA and UK and number 1 in Ireland! I'm just a little bit proud of that insignificant achievement.
Right, I've just used my new hand grinder (thanks mother-in-law) and brewed some beans from Machacamarca, Bolivia using my aeropress. Time to find out how to freshen up this whole blog a bit and get going again.
To Coffee!
Thursday, 2 September 2010
More sobering than coffee
I don't really know Dave. Just bits really. Mostly from what he writes on his blog or from the comments he leaves on mine. But what he writes he writes well.
I've been somewhat absent of late in reading blogs I enjoy, but took a moment this evening to catch up with Dave. What I read was a snapshot of the moment a man losses his job:
Pondering Dave: Forgetful Me
God bless you, Dave and the hundreds and thousands like you who still suffer consequences because someone somewhere thought they could control the economy.
By the way, if you get a chance, you'll also discover some great short poems on Dave's blog.
I've been somewhat absent of late in reading blogs I enjoy, but took a moment this evening to catch up with Dave. What I read was a snapshot of the moment a man losses his job:
Pondering Dave: Forgetful Me
God bless you, Dave and the hundreds and thousands like you who still suffer consequences because someone somewhere thought they could control the economy.
By the way, if you get a chance, you'll also discover some great short poems on Dave's blog.
Friday, 13 August 2010
Climpson & Sons - London
On a rainy, but warm August afternoon in London I manged to find a moment to steal away from the family holiday to visit Climpson & Sons, one of the cafés listed on the London Coffee Map.
The café is to be found on Broadway Market in east London and, on entering, I instantly liked it. Ordering a flat white I take a perfect seat at the front window and observe life. With about 15 people also drinking coffee and enjoying toasted cibattas and pastries there's not much more space. Most are trendy, young Londoners. And me. Plus a couple of guys from 'Frisco who seem to be patronising a crazy homeless guy outside by seeking his advice for how best to turn a bin bag into a rain jacket.
So I sat at the window (I always will if a seat is available) and watched the world go by. And the world did go by: An orthodox Jew left the bakery across the street while two boys dressed in white robes returned home after Friday prayers. A couple of mothers laden with buggies and kids on scooters made their way to the nearby park and a vagrant stepped in to the bakery hoping for some charity. Across the road the bald and tattooed hairdresser took another drag on his cigarette and watched curiously, along with me, as a man walked down the street and stopped to put a red sticker on a door before moving off quickly. A sign perhaps for the angel of death to not passover.
Meanwhile the bin-bag-jacket homeless guy sheltered under the dripping canopy in front of me and, finishing his cup of milk which the café had earlier given him, signalled through the window that there was a little left for me should I want it. I declined and he made his way to another part of the world down the street.
The café is to be found on Broadway Market in east London and, on entering, I instantly liked it. Ordering a flat white I take a perfect seat at the front window and observe life. With about 15 people also drinking coffee and enjoying toasted cibattas and pastries there's not much more space. Most are trendy, young Londoners. And me. Plus a couple of guys from 'Frisco who seem to be patronising a crazy homeless guy outside by seeking his advice for how best to turn a bin bag into a rain jacket.
So I sat at the window (I always will if a seat is available) and watched the world go by. And the world did go by: An orthodox Jew left the bakery across the street while two boys dressed in white robes returned home after Friday prayers. A couple of mothers laden with buggies and kids on scooters made their way to the nearby park and a vagrant stepped in to the bakery hoping for some charity. Across the road the bald and tattooed hairdresser took another drag on his cigarette and watched curiously, along with me, as a man walked down the street and stopped to put a red sticker on a door before moving off quickly. A sign perhaps for the angel of death to not passover.
Meanwhile the bin-bag-jacket homeless guy sheltered under the dripping canopy in front of me and, finishing his cup of milk which the café had earlier given him, signalled through the window that there was a little left for me should I want it. I declined and he made his way to another part of the world down the street.
The coffee was long gone before I managed pull myself away to return to my own world.
Ah yes, the coffee. Fantastic.
Tuesday, 4 May 2010
Café Moda - Rathmines
It would be wrong to say I have a love-hate relationship with Moda. Hate is a very strong word and should be used far less than it typically is. Love is an even stronger word. You can decide for yourself whether you think it should be used more or less often. Instead, I think I’ll refer to my relationship with Moda as like-dislike. There are times when the service is appalling – I’ve been known to sit around for 15 or 20 mins waiting for someone to take my order – and the coffee has been awful – I’ve sent coffee back because it was clearly too cold, and I’ve also burnt my tongue on too may occasions. However, there are times when the staff is friendly and helpful and the coffee served has been pretty good. But my feelings for Moda actually go beyond coffee.
This coffeehouse, located on the main Rathmines Road next to the long abandoned fire station and across from the majestic looking library (but don't judge a book by its cover), was one of the first places I visited when arriving in Rathmines almost seven years ago. Right from the start I was drawn to its atmosphere – subdued lighting, original artwork, some interesting tunes, the cosmopolitan mix of guests discussing interesting topics, a sense of the spiritual, and (back then) the distant waft of cigarettes coming from the smoking room. The clincher for me was the fact that the café opened early in the morning and continued to serve coffee until way past midnight. Unfortunately it now closes around 10pm, which is better than most cafes, but no longer provides the late night alternative to the pub. In fact, I have a feeling that it’s lucky to be open that late at all. Back when Ireland suddenly realised it no longer had money it looked like Moda may have had to cut right back to solely being a daytime café. What a shame that would have been.
This was highlighted for me this evening, as I sat in a fairly quite Moda, reading The Well-Connected Community by Alison Gilchrist, and was reminded of the phrase ‘third space’ – “an accessible and accommodating place that feels like a home away from home where there are neither guests nor hosts, simply regular users who share the space and engage with one another as and when they choose.”
You see, Moda gives more than good/bad coffee, cream cheese and bacon bagels, and the simple but delicious toasted scones. It provides a much needed space in Rathmines for the community to connect – something that is badly lacking in this area and a topic for which I have a particular passion.
So, God bless Moda and long may its doors stay open. May it be a space for friends to laugh, cry, whisper, shout, argue, play, share wisdom, break up, kiss, or be silent together until late in to the night.
(With just a little more attention to the way the coffee is served, please.)
This coffeehouse, located on the main Rathmines Road next to the long abandoned fire station and across from the majestic looking library (but don't judge a book by its cover), was one of the first places I visited when arriving in Rathmines almost seven years ago. Right from the start I was drawn to its atmosphere – subdued lighting, original artwork, some interesting tunes, the cosmopolitan mix of guests discussing interesting topics, a sense of the spiritual, and (back then) the distant waft of cigarettes coming from the smoking room. The clincher for me was the fact that the café opened early in the morning and continued to serve coffee until way past midnight. Unfortunately it now closes around 10pm, which is better than most cafes, but no longer provides the late night alternative to the pub. In fact, I have a feeling that it’s lucky to be open that late at all. Back when Ireland suddenly realised it no longer had money it looked like Moda may have had to cut right back to solely being a daytime café. What a shame that would have been.
This was highlighted for me this evening, as I sat in a fairly quite Moda, reading The Well-Connected Community by Alison Gilchrist, and was reminded of the phrase ‘third space’ – “an accessible and accommodating place that feels like a home away from home where there are neither guests nor hosts, simply regular users who share the space and engage with one another as and when they choose.”
You see, Moda gives more than good/bad coffee, cream cheese and bacon bagels, and the simple but delicious toasted scones. It provides a much needed space in Rathmines for the community to connect – something that is badly lacking in this area and a topic for which I have a particular passion.
So, God bless Moda and long may its doors stay open. May it be a space for friends to laugh, cry, whisper, shout, argue, play, share wisdom, break up, kiss, or be silent together until late in to the night.
(With just a little more attention to the way the coffee is served, please.)
Thursday, 22 April 2010
Flat White - Starbucks Ireland
I've mentioned previously how I'm fond of the style of coffee served in Australia/New Zealand called the flat white. So when I heard a rumour that Starbucks in Ireland now serve a flattie I made a mental note to give it a try. I don't think I've been back to a Starbucks since I finished my coffee odyssey. (I never did write that one up...) Today though I managed to stop by. After buying a magazine - a title I've never read before - I went for a coffee.
The sign describes the drink as something like a dark and creamy coffee that is hand crafted especially for me. I also noticed that it is more expensive than a regular latte at €3.30. And smaller. But not in a mug.
I was served by a lovely young lady who, after hand crafting my drink, gave a small exclamation of delight when she saw the pattern that she had poured. Apparently she hadn't got that result before. I was pleased for here.
Taking my coffee to a comfy chair I sat down to enjoy this moment and browse through the magazine.
What a waste of money. It was absolute rubbish and I couldn't face finishing it. I'm talking about the magazine - Philosophy Now; I was intrigued by its front cover article relating to New Atheism, but it was nothing new.
Unfortunately after a couple of sips of the coffee I had exactly the same reaction to the drink. What a shame.
The sign describes the drink as something like a dark and creamy coffee that is hand crafted especially for me. I also noticed that it is more expensive than a regular latte at €3.30. And smaller. But not in a mug.
I was served by a lovely young lady who, after hand crafting my drink, gave a small exclamation of delight when she saw the pattern that she had poured. Apparently she hadn't got that result before. I was pleased for here.
Taking my coffee to a comfy chair I sat down to enjoy this moment and browse through the magazine.
What a waste of money. It was absolute rubbish and I couldn't face finishing it. I'm talking about the magazine - Philosophy Now; I was intrigued by its front cover article relating to New Atheism, but it was nothing new.
Unfortunately after a couple of sips of the coffee I had exactly the same reaction to the drink. What a shame.
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