I certainly fell-off there for more than a minute, I can admit that... But I ain't never left. Just been posted in the booth, watching suckers play theyselves an' all that. But I'm about to take these fake-arse A&R's to court, because I the Inspector!!!
(whew! so many mixed-up rap references already in the first para - first person to ID will win............. nothing but the satisfaction of Knowledge).
Anyway, like I'm saying, it's not as though your boy Edward Burlington III freaked-the-fuck-out and stopped coppin' those extravagant fast-breakers, had some kind of petit-bourgeois crise-de-couer (Franc'd-the-fuck-out) and eats nothing but beansprouts and water from his own artesian bore in Kaiwaka. I'm Bout This Brunch Life, always have been, always will be. ACKLIKEYOUKNOW.
I feel like those first two were far too Urban.
Apologies to my Two (2) followers (and any other Anon lurkers - optimistic, I know), who I'm sure have long forgotten the existence. In any case I shouldn't have left you, without some knowledge darts to step to (step to). One can only review Salta so many times...
I have recently made the move out of Central, which hasn't yielded any discoveries particularly blog-worthy, until recently.
First at the crease is Devonport Delicatessen Cafe, right on the main drag. Based on it's shady appearance I prolly would've never bothered, but my Fred-buddy suggested we go there one day post some Rapha-as riding in the Alpes d'Henderson, and I was pleasantly surprised.
Good, honest food, that wasn't too rich... and heaps-dece' coffee to boot. While we're about it: why is it it seems once you travel a certain distance from AKL Central, suddenly coffees are available in up to four times as many sizes (Starsquiers excluded, of course). Stop me if you think you've heard this one before, but didn't the latte bowl disappear about the same time as colourful iMacs, or at least it should have - along with Mingi/Backwards Cheese-cutter Combos. Surely the idea of a Large Short Black is in itself contradictory. Once I got over this minor gripe, however, the kai was thoroughly enjoyable. Hit. Go here. Would eat again. A+++ cheers :)
Click here, scroll down. Not a bad guide, but someone could do a better one. Lord knows it won't be me.
Top billing this time goes to Cafe at Bennetts of Mangawhai (52 Moir St). A place like this would ordinarily set alarm-bells off in my head - faux Tuscan villa style, the main event is in fact an award winning Chocolatier (PAUSE), distressed-french-country-everything-everywhere - but I was in such a good mood after a surprisingly refreshing sleep on the top bunk I was able to get over my usual prejudices. In spite of all these obvious faux-pas, the cafe has a pretty honest vibe about it. Simple, concise blackboard menu - all the big names, none of the bullshit. A little on the spenno side, but it is worth it. I opted for the omelette with raclette and onion jam, with a side of excellent pork & fennel saus. As usual, my talk exceeded my walk, the plate getting the better of me (this time, and only just). My companions' plates were also pronounced good, if a little riche. We all left disrespected, obviously. Service was prompt, but to be fair, we did get there quite early (before 10:00AM even... shit's unheard of), and it looked like the hoards were 'pon us as we stumbled across to the Boutique afterward. The waitress even had a wrist-tat. Alt Dot Tick. Gripe: my latte was far too creamy, but maybe I should grow a pair and stop ordering lattes. Also, what did I expect from an adjunct to a chocolate factorie. We admired the various bon-bons on display as we basked in the afterglow. As we were leaving, J enquired as to the highest percentage 'cocao' Bennetts' make: "70%... anything higher is just too bitter". Before I could check myself: "that's an opinion..." and off we went. Gimme that stuff that TASTE LIKE DIRT. That's my shit. Oh, yeah. Hit.
