Troy McNaughtonWell Connected - I couldn't find the well
July 27th 2006 04:26
If it were acceptable to “dis” Well Connected in Glebe, then it would be called Disconnected.
At 35 Glebe Point Road, Well Connected is one of a string of cafes maintaining the street’s reputation for funky if overpriced formerly bohemian dining. You might know it as the small looking place with retro swivel red chairs. Yes, the tables really are as small as they look. On the other hand, the bench seats along the walls are lavishly cushioned to your bottom’s relief and far less uncomfortable than they appear.
The décor has been described as “grungy”, “alternative” and even “depressing”. Who are these people? Dark colours and low couches do not a depressive episode make. If you like it light and airy, the upstairs is very well lit, more spacious, and generally is a little more main stream if you feel safer out of the clutches of the Glebe passers by, but we must remember that Glebe is gentrified and not nearly as edgy as any non-local might spruik as they monger their scare wares.
This means you pay more for waitresses unburdened by so many chips and piercings. The staff at Well Connected were all very friendly and not at all Enmorish. They even coped with a post-holiday request for two people to share a two course meal, and thus for different dishes to come out at different times. There was, additionally, none of the stress of whether the food would be there in time and even those with one hour breaks had time to eat at a leisurely pace. Here is Well Connected’s main selling point over any Thai in Newtown – it wasn’t too crowded and it wasn’t so much of a gamble which ends in such bad indigestion.
Open Mon-Sat 7am-10pm and Sun 8am-10pm, Well Connected has acknowledged its propinquity to Sydney University with a dinner offer that was prohibitively specific – something along the lines of 30% off a main course from a specific menu when you buy another main course after 6pm week nights on even days of the month if you’re wearing green and the waitress thinks you’re cute.
The portions are small for what you pay, and it’s hard to justify against a $6 Thai lunch that would feed a family of five for three days (a Thai family that is – Thai people are smaller and less gluttonous than your average Aussie family). But the blueberry pancakes are delectable and the bruschetta is made with TLC and no shortage of Spanish onion or balsamic vinegar, so for the foodies the meals might be justifiable. I suspect that their very limited menu (said one fellow diner, “Is that it?”) allows the cooks to specialize to their hearts’ content.
But though I might look like a foodie, I’m really only a hedonist. Good food is good food, and I’d really prefer it wasn’t served in minute quantities on an oversized plate in a precarious, gravity-defying stack of over-thought, over-prepared and (logically) over-priced unpronounceable morsels. None of this has any relevance to the café I’m currently pulling to pieces, but my point is, my area of expertise is coffee, not whatever excuse for nutrition accompanies it.
So what does the cappuccinista say? Well it’s better $3 coffee than most places pass for $3.50 coffee. It is yet to pass the strong coffee test - I’ll get back to you on that one. My cappuccino was unremarkable amidst the company of Master D and Miss E, which means it did the job inoffensively and with a minimum of fuss. Satisfying, a predictable temperature, not too bitter, not too strong, such that it invaded my body and was promptly adopted, accepted like a well-placed kidney, without the pomp and ceremony of anaesthetic and life saving.
Or was it?....
“Last night a latte saved my life.”
The décor has been described as “grungy”, “alternative” and even “depressing”. Who are these people? Dark colours and low couches do not a depressive episode make. If you like it light and airy, the upstairs is very well lit, more spacious, and generally is a little more main stream if you feel safer out of the clutches of the Glebe passers by, but we must remember that Glebe is gentrified and not nearly as edgy as any non-local might spruik as they monger their scare wares.
This means you pay more for waitresses unburdened by so many chips and piercings. The staff at Well Connected were all very friendly and not at all Enmorish. They even coped with a post-holiday request for two people to share a two course meal, and thus for different dishes to come out at different times. There was, additionally, none of the stress of whether the food would be there in time and even those with one hour breaks had time to eat at a leisurely pace. Here is Well Connected’s main selling point over any Thai in Newtown – it wasn’t too crowded and it wasn’t so much of a gamble which ends in such bad indigestion.
The portions are small for what you pay, and it’s hard to justify against a $6 Thai lunch that would feed a family of five for three days (a Thai family that is – Thai people are smaller and less gluttonous than your average Aussie family). But the blueberry pancakes are delectable and the bruschetta is made with TLC and no shortage of Spanish onion or balsamic vinegar, so for the foodies the meals might be justifiable. I suspect that their very limited menu (said one fellow diner, “Is that it?”) allows the cooks to specialize to their hearts’ content.
But though I might look like a foodie, I’m really only a hedonist. Good food is good food, and I’d really prefer it wasn’t served in minute quantities on an oversized plate in a precarious, gravity-defying stack of over-thought, over-prepared and (logically) over-priced unpronounceable morsels. None of this has any relevance to the café I’m currently pulling to pieces, but my point is, my area of expertise is coffee, not whatever excuse for nutrition accompanies it.
So what does the cappuccinista say? Well it’s better $3 coffee than most places pass for $3.50 coffee. It is yet to pass the strong coffee test - I’ll get back to you on that one. My cappuccino was unremarkable amidst the company of Master D and Miss E, which means it did the job inoffensively and with a minimum of fuss. Satisfying, a predictable temperature, not too bitter, not too strong, such that it invaded my body and was promptly adopted, accepted like a well-placed kidney, without the pomp and ceremony of anaesthetic and life saving.
Or was it?....
“Last night a latte saved my life.”
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Comment by edward
Rocky's Running Diary
Good point about the food; I ran with it here, hope you don't mind. I've been feeling a bit the same recently for whatever reason.
I hope you've got lots of rocking stories you're gonna share with us
Comment by Cibbuano
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