At the Coffee Shop
The corporate behemoth that invented the $5 coffee, Starbucks, hasn't come to Cape Town yet. I'm pretty sure it hasn't set up shop anywhere in South Africa. But there's something called the Seattle Coffee Company that's in several of the more upscale malls.
Seattle, as it's called, has coffee and espresso drinks that are pretty close to the Starbucks ideal, though they still can cost upwards of $3 in a country where the median income is something like 100 rand, or $15, a day.
I've talked to several people from Cape Town who had no idea that it wasn't an American company. But a little research shows that South Africans founded it, though some big multi-national may own it now.
Since people here think it's not local, it must have a menu, a decor and an attitude that seem un-South African… unlike, say, the Mombassa Café at the other end of the mall.
And largely, Seattle's would seem oddly familiar to anyone from the states who showed up there looking to satisfy their tall-iced-mocha-jones. They've got it all, from the biscotti to the couches to the earnest, piped-in music to the odd claims about how their coffee beans are fed spring water, grow only in the shade and only on west facing slopes, and are picked only in the mornings by extremely well paid, well trained and well washed virgins. Or something.
They also have a coffee glossary on the wall to help explain coffee terminology, and when you order, they insist on repeating your order back to you in their weird jargon that doesn’t sound like anything I've ever heard in the states. I mean, "with wings" ? Is that familiar to anyone? It means to go. Or "fun" instead of foam? I dunno. I was never up to speed on my coffee talk.
The oddest part about the Seattle Coffee Company is the weird posters they have on the wall that wax lyrical about Seattle--both the shop and the city. I think. I mean, it's hard to tell what they're really on about.
As Exhibit A, I give you this poem, which I copied into the laptop when I was supposed to be writing about wine. It was plastered in massive type on a poster next to the cash register. I assure you, there are no transcription errors:
For me, this is a
Sacred point in time
I drank from her cup her sweet fragrance
Lingered on its lip mellowing the coffee &
Smoothing its edge, a dreamy combination
Which invaded my senses.
Pause;
Seattle. I found my
dreams. In Seattle.
I found my life. In
Seattle. I found myself.
Continue.
Seattle, as it's called, has coffee and espresso drinks that are pretty close to the Starbucks ideal, though they still can cost upwards of $3 in a country where the median income is something like 100 rand, or $15, a day.
I've talked to several people from Cape Town who had no idea that it wasn't an American company. But a little research shows that South Africans founded it, though some big multi-national may own it now.
Since people here think it's not local, it must have a menu, a decor and an attitude that seem un-South African… unlike, say, the Mombassa Café at the other end of the mall.
And largely, Seattle's would seem oddly familiar to anyone from the states who showed up there looking to satisfy their tall-iced-mocha-jones. They've got it all, from the biscotti to the couches to the earnest, piped-in music to the odd claims about how their coffee beans are fed spring water, grow only in the shade and only on west facing slopes, and are picked only in the mornings by extremely well paid, well trained and well washed virgins. Or something.
They also have a coffee glossary on the wall to help explain coffee terminology, and when you order, they insist on repeating your order back to you in their weird jargon that doesn’t sound like anything I've ever heard in the states. I mean, "with wings" ? Is that familiar to anyone? It means to go. Or "fun" instead of foam? I dunno. I was never up to speed on my coffee talk.
The oddest part about the Seattle Coffee Company is the weird posters they have on the wall that wax lyrical about Seattle--both the shop and the city. I think. I mean, it's hard to tell what they're really on about.
As Exhibit A, I give you this poem, which I copied into the laptop when I was supposed to be writing about wine. It was plastered in massive type on a poster next to the cash register. I assure you, there are no transcription errors:
For me, this is a
Sacred point in time
I drank from her cup her sweet fragrance
Lingered on its lip mellowing the coffee &
Smoothing its edge, a dreamy combination
Which invaded my senses.
Pause;
Seattle. I found my
dreams. In Seattle.
I found my life. In
Seattle. I found myself.
Continue.
posted by Erik at 8:45 am
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