Troy McNaughtonThe Courtyard Cafe - the Italian way
June 20th 2006 01:26
Bus drivers should get paid double time when they are nice to people before 12pm. The difference it makes to people’s days is immeasurable – a little compliment of your concession card photo, a bit of banter, gentle and jovial suggestions for people to move down the bus, and of course well wishing for the rest of your day.
Similarly, a bouncy waiter or barista can inject your mood with more than caffeine – but I’m not suggesting you track down those heroine dealer baristas. Get it? Track down? Never mind.
Basically, anyone who sees me within the first 3 hours of waking up needs to take more responsibility for the fragility of my mood and their ability to cause the "start as you mean to go on" ripple effect.
...Butterfly effect. All those effects that chaos theorists like. Mmmmm chaos. Tasty.
At any rate, while you may only stop at a café to grab your morning coffee (although I’m getting really sick of the baby spouts on take-away cups, and the fact that the rim seems to retain coffee that eventually comes out cold onto your hand), the demeanour of the people serving you can set the tone for the day. Sunshine and lollipops are not necessary, but surely if baristas and associated persons did a bit of smiling and ‘how are you’ing they’d get a lot more smiling and ‘how are you’ing in return, making THEIR morning equally tolerable.
And let me tell you, a compliment, provided it is a genuine one, goes a long way. And this was the very Italian opening I received from The Courtyard Café (or Da Capo, it seems to go by either alias).
Its opening hours are not terribly friendly, but Monday - Friday 7.30am - 4pm and
Saturday and Sunday from 9am - 4pm, you can get a very decent coffee and/or food right by the Domain. Of course, you get to think about all the sick people polluting the air around you, since it’s basically inside Sydney Hospital, 8 Macquarie Street, Sydney.
They even serve breakfast all day on the weekend. I say all day. I mean til 4pm because like every other café in the city they are most unfriendly to the 9-5ers. The lunch menu is varied and fairly standard upper-end prices at around $16.
But let me go back to these baristas. They were friendly, chatty, insisted on translating everything into Italian, and said sweet Italian things that Italians should say, like “two beautiful coffees for two beautiful girls”. No, it wasn’t sleazy, but after being pash-raped by an Italian in Venice I have a pretty high tolerance for such things.
And the coffee! Oh the coffee! I’m pretty skeptish about mochas these days. But this coffee was doubling as dessert so it seemed the only viable option. So I, feeling restrained and self-disciplined, got a large and it was PERFECT. Oddly, it was made with chocolate milk, but it was strangely strangely perfect. It was the perfect sweetness, the perfect amount of coffee – as in, it tasted like coffee, not sugary milk – and it had none of that awful mineral taste you get when they use too much chocolate powder.
And I left so smug and satisfied with myself, my café choice, my scarf that was complimented, and my truly fulfilling mocha that I felt equipped to sit back down to work and study for a good… half hour… before I got bored and restless again.
Death to The Man Who Invented Exams. And his children. And his children’s children.
Similarly, a bouncy waiter or barista can inject your mood with more than caffeine – but I’m not suggesting you track down those heroine dealer baristas. Get it? Track down? Never mind.
Basically, anyone who sees me within the first 3 hours of waking up needs to take more responsibility for the fragility of my mood and their ability to cause the "start as you mean to go on" ripple effect.
...Butterfly effect. All those effects that chaos theorists like. Mmmmm chaos. Tasty.
At any rate, while you may only stop at a café to grab your morning coffee (although I’m getting really sick of the baby spouts on take-away cups, and the fact that the rim seems to retain coffee that eventually comes out cold onto your hand), the demeanour of the people serving you can set the tone for the day. Sunshine and lollipops are not necessary, but surely if baristas and associated persons did a bit of smiling and ‘how are you’ing they’d get a lot more smiling and ‘how are you’ing in return, making THEIR morning equally tolerable.
Its opening hours are not terribly friendly, but Monday - Friday 7.30am - 4pm and
Saturday and Sunday from 9am - 4pm, you can get a very decent coffee and/or food right by the Domain. Of course, you get to think about all the sick people polluting the air around you, since it’s basically inside Sydney Hospital, 8 Macquarie Street, Sydney.
They even serve breakfast all day on the weekend. I say all day. I mean til 4pm because like every other café in the city they are most unfriendly to the 9-5ers. The lunch menu is varied and fairly standard upper-end prices at around $16.
But let me go back to these baristas. They were friendly, chatty, insisted on translating everything into Italian, and said sweet Italian things that Italians should say, like “two beautiful coffees for two beautiful girls”. No, it wasn’t sleazy, but after being pash-raped by an Italian in Venice I have a pretty high tolerance for such things.
And the coffee! Oh the coffee! I’m pretty skeptish about mochas these days. But this coffee was doubling as dessert so it seemed the only viable option. So I, feeling restrained and self-disciplined, got a large and it was PERFECT. Oddly, it was made with chocolate milk, but it was strangely strangely perfect. It was the perfect sweetness, the perfect amount of coffee – as in, it tasted like coffee, not sugary milk – and it had none of that awful mineral taste you get when they use too much chocolate powder.
And I left so smug and satisfied with myself, my café choice, my scarf that was complimented, and my truly fulfilling mocha that I felt equipped to sit back down to work and study for a good… half hour… before I got bored and restless again.
Death to The Man Who Invented Exams. And his children. And his children’s children.
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Comment by Mr T
More on topic, isn't there a giant brozne hog outside this place in macquarie street? I think I saew a similar one in Florence somewhere? Or am I crazy?
Comment by amy
Apparently you're meant to kiss the nose of the hog on Macq St, but you need to think about how many sick people are hanging around wanting good luck....
Comment by Mr T
Florence - Hans Christian Andersen. Click here
Comment by amy
Still you though, sorry.