A Haunt (One of the Better Kind )

Chinese Kiwi brother and sister set-up—interesting for that alone. Light-on chat something in their favour; even with their regulars the young pair is shy and reticent, failing to rise to the bonhomie. The place trades on the strength of its location, the feng shui of the interior, simple good fare.

         Strongly Jewish quarter; film and TV people, mag-flippers (broadsheets marginally in the ascendant). Real estate/developers and other biz types, retirees and landlords with time on their hands, travel plans, discretionary spending; one or two conservative local painters whose pics appear in the Arts pages. Yarmulkes rare (one mid-aged hard-man almost certainly Mossad); in an unfortunate conjunction the recent South African wave prominent.
         Yellow steel road-sign punctured with incisions where freshly cut flowers and fronds protrude. (No “art-work” otherwise; nor Opp. Shop kitsch.) Through the spring a vase beside the coffee machine held budded tree branches cut short of the ceiling; smaller colour along the window bench over-stepping the Zen touch. Trying too hard was not the problem here: a confident designer following her instinct—the sister’s manner and clothing gave the indication.
         The loud venturesome Jewish waitress who on first encounter seemed a nuisance had become the chief ornament of the place, her warmth and ebullience contrasting with the others—the geologist’s daughter aside. (Far too many frustrated artists, actors & performers in this town sullenly waiting between times).
         Another positive was the low music, mostly retro lounge/jazz.

         Tables unsqueezed; re-cycled materials, second-hand furniture, wood-grains (albeit veneers).

         Without picking your hours getting a seat was problematic.
         The quest for a café where film and TV references were absent continues. If not movies, serials and reality shows, it’s bands and rock-stars, food, tourist destinations, renovations, property. Cosmetic surgery gets a run here, screenplay pitches, rankings of private schools, children’s career launches—overseas escapes and adventures above and beyond all else, the States especially popular for security reasons.

         Little sport, no politics or social issues, no sexual flirtation, no enquiry. Like everywhere else the minutiae over egg poaching, bacon crisp, sourdough/rye/wholemeal and coffee.
         Re-filling of water a nice courtesy (were it delivered with good grace). Disrepair in the upper storey facades across the road adds chic; some days from the outer bench seat a corner of sky seemed attached to the place like a kite. Consoling trams and shopping trolleys. Horse-headed workingmen one side and numbers of precocious kids the other.

         Nebbish fashions common on the street were welcome (half the time even the monied matrons eschewed flaunting); the elderly regulars, the aged sometimes and even the seriously ill, pale, bruised carefully pushing walking frames settled all spirits.
         Café $3.5; top main $16.
         6 - 6 ½ /10. 3 ½ stars. The Café of the imagination is not to be found in this town.