"And now, the end is here
And so I face the final curtain.
My friend, I'll say it clear
I'll state my case, of which I'm certain..."
Okay so it would be easy to write this entire blog through the words of Frank Sinatra, but I get the feeling this would be a slight cop out. Plus I would have to refer to myself as a man on several occasions, which at the age of twenty-five I'm pretty convinced I'm not.
The time has come though...I had to say goodbye to the wonderful Edinburgh and with it it's beautiful buildings, all-encompassing festival and ever generous coffee shops. (Generous in the sense that they put up with me.)
There have naturally been many gloriously independent coffee shops that have been left off my list, purposefully or accidentally, and this should in no way be considered a conclusive list. Black Medicine, for example, that came surrounded with recommendations, but was simply too busy, closed or didn't take my fancy at the time. Peter's Yard another with the masses of people enjoying their coffee in the sunshine as recommendation in itself. Captain Taylor's coffee, Fredericks, Wellington's, Eteaket and many more. Yes I feel I have let you down somewhat, but then working 48 hours a week and squeezing in 43 shows during the four week festival lessens my guilt somewhat.
So what have I learnt from my time in Edinburgh? Well many things to be honest, but most of them mushy and self-gratifying so I won't divulge. But what have I learnt from their coffee shops? That they have some fantastic independent business men and women securing their living in the city.
It's apparent of course across London that chains have ousted many of the independents. And its common to see a Starbucks within 200 metres of another, particularly in tourist spots and/or near stations. This chain revolution isn't limited though to the big cities. Even in my small home town with a population of about 11,000 a Costa has found its way onto our High Street. As shops closed and companies went bust that big maroon sign with bold white writing went up. A big fish in a little pond. You may have noticed I'm a fan of the little man. The under dog. Maybe being 5"4 I think I've got something to prove, who knows.
Don't get me me wrong, I'm not blind to the fact that Edinburgh also has its big names. During my explorations I counted three Starbucks, a few Costas and a Cafe Nero. I know they exist, but they are less in your face. You are not forced into one during a coffee emergency. (Yes there are such things as coffee emergencies. I experienced one this morning at Euston Station after an unexpected early start.) Your choices in Edinburgh are varied, which in my mind is beneficial. You are suddenly a person, rather than a number or sales figure.
Listen, I'm getting all sentimental here. Dangerous territory. Those of you reading this who know me as well are well aware of my ability to rant, so I will stop before I start ending my sentences in angry rhetorical questions like "Isn't it?!" or "Why? Just why?"
Edinburgh virgins I urge you to visit this great city and what's more take advantage of the mass of independent shops and sights available. If you're feeling particularly brave leave your phone in the hotel room, put on a backpack and explore the city in peace. It will be worth it!
"I've loved, I've laughed and cried
I've had my fill, my share of losing (money)"
Don't worry I'm not actually going to end the blog with more Sinatra lyrics. In a way I'm not ending it at all. I've kind of got into this whole blogging malarky and as a whole am a bit obsessed with writing. I truly appreciate you all reading this, which is why I'm passing the baton on to you. I'm looking for an idea for a new blog. More specifically I'm looking for your ideas. If you've enjoyed reading my blog and would like me to write about something specific let me know. It may be an idea for one post or maybe for a whole blog. Perhaps you want me to report back on a knitting class, whatever, but I'm interested in your thoughts.
To get in touch email me at lyviablogs@gmail.com! You suggest it (within reason) I'll write about it!
For now...signing off. Roger that. Over and out.
Wednesday, 5 September 2012
Sunday, 2 September 2012
Peppy coffee and convo.
Looking for an independent coffee shop in the New Town is like looking for a needle in a haystack. It's a bloody mission. I know this will probably be met with a backlash of counter arguments, people saying "No it's not. You're just not looking in the right places, they're just not obvious." Well of course I'm not and of course they're not, but I don't want to hunt for my coffee. I'm a vegetarian remember, that sort of instinct left me long ago. Hand me something on a plate and I will eat it off the floor, make me go find the plate and I will cross my arms, shut my mouth and shake my head like a stubborn child.
I'd been walking around the New Town for quite a while, up and across the main few streets. I tried George Street, Rose Street, Princes Street, walked in parallel lines up Frederick Street and down Hanover Street and around St Andrews Square. Nothing. My desire for coffee was increasing as was the ache in my feet. I was basically at the stage of giving up and heading back to the Old Town. I stopped to watch a group of South African A Capella singers advertising their Edinburgh show. This was a momentary distraction as I contemplated heading down Leith Walk away from both parts of town. I'm sure there are places to go down there, but I was running low on time and very aware that Leith Walk incorporates quite a slope. Alright on the way down, not so fun on the trek back up. Sweaty and caffeine high is not a good look for work.
As I'd already walked part way along the street I crossed the road at a lower point walking up to the main crossing. This gave me a view along Waterloo Place, a street I'd never previously looked down. (There is a very expensive wedding dress boutique on the corner, would you look further down?) I took a mini walk down and came across a strange mix of places. There was a cafe/pub, the type of place old men go to reassure themselves they're not alcoholics, slurring their words as they say "I come here for the tea." Next to this was your average off-licence, further up a business-fronted Apex Hotel and squeezed in the middle a barely distinguishable coffee shop called Pep and Fodder. I sighed audibly out of relief and walked in.
The shop itself is nice, but slightly confused. It doesn't quite know if it wants to be quirky and independent or generic and minimal. I'll forgive it though, having spoken to the man behind the counter it's only been open for three weeks (more like six weeks at the time of writing).
There are light wooden tables that line the wall, off-white walls dotted with large pieces of art and a shiny new coffee machine half concealed behind the counter. The man greets me with a warm hello and asks what I'll be having. I tell him "Skinny latte really really hot and no froth please." "So that's like a flat white basically?" he replies. What is it with these people and their flat whites? Unlike the woman from Union of Genius, however, there is no hint of accusation in his voice. It's a simple enquiry. We enter familiar conversation about the difference between flat whites and lattes. "I thought flat whites couldn't be served extra hot though because of the way the milk is heated?" I say. "No, they can be as hot as you want them, they just don't have the top on them like most lattes do." Well that's me told and to be honest I'm happy to accept. Having been told twice and much more charmingly the second time I'm willing to admit I like a flat white. (I still won't order it though, such a stubborn cow).
The man, obviously keen to impress in such a new shop, pours my coffee into a tiny takeaway cup. It looks good. I take a sip. His eyebrows raise in anticipation. I tilt my head and squint my eyes. "It could still be hotter." I say. "Wow" he replies "You do like it hot. No worries." And without me even asking he has started to make a new one. He pours the new one into another cup keen to avoid any froth and gently pushes it towards me to try.
"Perfect" I say.
"You won't be able to taste your dinner" he says.
"Even more perfect" I reply "It will only be chips anyway."
I leave the shop and sip my coffee. It is gorgeous, smooth and creamy. The one problem and I suppose it's quite a big one paradoxically is that the cup is tiny. It's the size of a double espresso cup and for £2.60 I do feel slightly cheated. I need my coffee to last more than a short walk, which in case you're wondering is why I always ask for it extra hot in the first place. With this cup, barely noticeable in my hands, my coffee won't still be there by the time I've reached work. It's such a shame because the coffee is gorgeous and the service was great. I would definitely recommend a visit if you're stuck in the New Town with nowhere to go. I would also recommend to them that they get themselves some bigger cups while they're still new enough to make the changes.
It's easy to see how this place can be missed with a simple painted on sign. They'd be wise to invest in something a bit more obvious, but I'm sure as soon as word of mouth gets around this place will be buzzing. It definitely has great potential and with a more defined style and bigger cups I'll certainly be a mouth to spread the Pep and Fodder word.
P.S Again please ignore the person in this photo. It's still not me, but if that's his car I'll 'ave it.
Frothy Fun Fact of the Day: Not sure about Pep, but Fodder is agricultural foodstuff used specifically to feed domestic livestock, including cattle. So that's what cous cous salad is.
I'd been walking around the New Town for quite a while, up and across the main few streets. I tried George Street, Rose Street, Princes Street, walked in parallel lines up Frederick Street and down Hanover Street and around St Andrews Square. Nothing. My desire for coffee was increasing as was the ache in my feet. I was basically at the stage of giving up and heading back to the Old Town. I stopped to watch a group of South African A Capella singers advertising their Edinburgh show. This was a momentary distraction as I contemplated heading down Leith Walk away from both parts of town. I'm sure there are places to go down there, but I was running low on time and very aware that Leith Walk incorporates quite a slope. Alright on the way down, not so fun on the trek back up. Sweaty and caffeine high is not a good look for work.
As I'd already walked part way along the street I crossed the road at a lower point walking up to the main crossing. This gave me a view along Waterloo Place, a street I'd never previously looked down. (There is a very expensive wedding dress boutique on the corner, would you look further down?) I took a mini walk down and came across a strange mix of places. There was a cafe/pub, the type of place old men go to reassure themselves they're not alcoholics, slurring their words as they say "I come here for the tea." Next to this was your average off-licence, further up a business-fronted Apex Hotel and squeezed in the middle a barely distinguishable coffee shop called Pep and Fodder. I sighed audibly out of relief and walked in.
The shop itself is nice, but slightly confused. It doesn't quite know if it wants to be quirky and independent or generic and minimal. I'll forgive it though, having spoken to the man behind the counter it's only been open for three weeks (more like six weeks at the time of writing).
There are light wooden tables that line the wall, off-white walls dotted with large pieces of art and a shiny new coffee machine half concealed behind the counter. The man greets me with a warm hello and asks what I'll be having. I tell him "Skinny latte really really hot and no froth please." "So that's like a flat white basically?" he replies. What is it with these people and their flat whites? Unlike the woman from Union of Genius, however, there is no hint of accusation in his voice. It's a simple enquiry. We enter familiar conversation about the difference between flat whites and lattes. "I thought flat whites couldn't be served extra hot though because of the way the milk is heated?" I say. "No, they can be as hot as you want them, they just don't have the top on them like most lattes do." Well that's me told and to be honest I'm happy to accept. Having been told twice and much more charmingly the second time I'm willing to admit I like a flat white. (I still won't order it though, such a stubborn cow).
The man, obviously keen to impress in such a new shop, pours my coffee into a tiny takeaway cup. It looks good. I take a sip. His eyebrows raise in anticipation. I tilt my head and squint my eyes. "It could still be hotter." I say. "Wow" he replies "You do like it hot. No worries." And without me even asking he has started to make a new one. He pours the new one into another cup keen to avoid any froth and gently pushes it towards me to try.
"Perfect" I say.
"You won't be able to taste your dinner" he says.
"Even more perfect" I reply "It will only be chips anyway."
I leave the shop and sip my coffee. It is gorgeous, smooth and creamy. The one problem and I suppose it's quite a big one paradoxically is that the cup is tiny. It's the size of a double espresso cup and for £2.60 I do feel slightly cheated. I need my coffee to last more than a short walk, which in case you're wondering is why I always ask for it extra hot in the first place. With this cup, barely noticeable in my hands, my coffee won't still be there by the time I've reached work. It's such a shame because the coffee is gorgeous and the service was great. I would definitely recommend a visit if you're stuck in the New Town with nowhere to go. I would also recommend to them that they get themselves some bigger cups while they're still new enough to make the changes.
It's easy to see how this place can be missed with a simple painted on sign. They'd be wise to invest in something a bit more obvious, but I'm sure as soon as word of mouth gets around this place will be buzzing. It definitely has great potential and with a more defined style and bigger cups I'll certainly be a mouth to spread the Pep and Fodder word.
P.S Again please ignore the person in this photo. It's still not me, but if that's his car I'll 'ave it.
Frothy Fun Fact of the Day: Not sure about Pep, but Fodder is agricultural foodstuff used specifically to feed domestic livestock, including cattle. So that's what cous cous salad is.
Saturday, 1 September 2012
Coffee and spells in this place Dwells.
I must apologise for my complete lack of blog over the last week or two. It has certainly been a busy couple of weeks. Personally I blame a visitor friend of mine who kept me well occupied from 11am to 11pm daily watching shows and some rather questionable free comedy. My usual coffee breaks turned predominantly into cider breaks (If you'd experienced some of the "comedy" we had, you'd understand) and I was unintentionally caffeine deprived for a few days. For any coffee lovers out there who are trying to cut down I highly recommend you take up more drinking, it eases you into the process. Don't try going cold turkey have a whiskey and coke to refresh the monkey on your back in a different way.
Anyway enough of my bad advice for addicts, I luckily have a few coffee shops stored up somewhere in my brain space to tell you about.
A while back I was heading into town for a late shift and decided to finally chance it, the famous Elephant House Gourmet Tea and Coffee Shop. This place I may have mentioned before is famous as, to use their words not mine, the "birthplace of Harry Potter". It was JK Rowling's coffee shop of choice as she sat writing her novels in the back room overlooking Edinburgh Castle. Well that's a nice little claim to fame there and certainly gave the Elephant House paramount exposure. They use it of course to their advantage. In the front window there is a framed watercolour of Rowling herself sitting at a table penning her future book. Underneath this it's the story of how she whiled away the hours inspired by the views of the city around her. This is the reason why during the festival the Elephant House is flocked with people. Tourists old and young and from all over the world congregate and have photos taken standing next to the picture in the window. To me it's quite bizarre to have a picture stood next to a picture, but I think I was one of the rare-breeds that missed out on the Harry Potter hype. Having never read it I can't criticise or applaud her work, but I can absolutely admire her success.
People not only stand waiting for a photo in front of the coffee shop, they also stand in queues that run outside the door waiting for a table for lunch. Again bizarre. I remember passing people in Milton Keynes shopping centre on several occasions queueing to get a table at Pizza Hut and thought "Are you serious? It's Pizza Hut!" But at least Edinburgh during the festival can get extremely busy and you might be in for a wait wherever you chose to eat at lunch.
This is the reason, however, that every time I've walked passed the Elephant House I've kept walking. Don't get me wrong it looks very inviting, but I've never had the time to stand and wait.
On this occasion I walked past and figured I must have got the timing right. Although there was still a queue, it didn't stretch as far as the door and with three people working behind the counter I took my chances. Inside is definitely charming. It has a kind of continental feel about it which comes across as both polished and rustic. The walls are peaches and oranges decorated with small pieces of art. Heavy material lampshades hang from the ceiling and dark wooden tables and chairs are scattered across the floor. The set-up for ordering I suppose is quite similar to Starbucks. You queue up at the front counter to order (lunch orders included) and then wait to be seated. Your drinks are prepared as you wait and food later served to your table. As I watched the ebb of people coming in the set-up seemed a bit chaotic, waiters dashed to the front to block people from helping themselves to a table. In all honesty if I saw a queue at the counter and a few empty tables I would probably make the same assumption that people were queueing for a takeaway service, just like I was. Still once people had got the gist and read the signs it seemed to quieten down the confusion.
As I waited I admired the food in the deli counter to my right. There were fresh quiches, half slices of pizza, vegetable and meat pies and fresh cakes and flapjack slices. Along the back of the counter on the ever popular blackboards were the lunch time offerings and prices. I'm surprised at how popular this place is yet how affordable it remains. Just like when a restaurant gets a Michelin star and ups it's prices by two-thirds, it would be easy for the Elephant House to ask for more simply to sit where J K Rowling barked her bum.
In terms of the service it is proficient and professional. The ladies behind the counter serve with speed, but precision. Less time is given to general chit-chat, but with lines normally out of the door this is probably developed through habit and only a good thing. The lady who takes my order listens carefully to my coffee instructions and offers a nod and a courteous "Sure". To my surprise she also asks if I would like one shot or two in my coffee. This is rare these days, when two shots is the standard. I'm glad to be offered the option and choose the one shot. I watch carefully as she heats the milk and then swirls it in the metal jug. I'm prepared to ask for it hotter or for more milk, but again to my surprise she serves it roasting hot and to the brim. The result is a velvety hot coffee that melts down your throat. Delicious! I genuinely walk along the street with a smile on my face. It's sad how one good cup of coffee can make such a genuine improvement to my day. This place, despite it's popularity as the "birthplace of Harry Potter" clearly has a lot more going for it. There is a really good atmosphere and although it is busy it's not cacophonous. There is a mild hum of conversation and coffee machines rather than a shrill discord present in many larger coffee shops.
Anyway enough of my bad advice for addicts, I luckily have a few coffee shops stored up somewhere in my brain space to tell you about.
A while back I was heading into town for a late shift and decided to finally chance it, the famous Elephant House Gourmet Tea and Coffee Shop. This place I may have mentioned before is famous as, to use their words not mine, the "birthplace of Harry Potter". It was JK Rowling's coffee shop of choice as she sat writing her novels in the back room overlooking Edinburgh Castle. Well that's a nice little claim to fame there and certainly gave the Elephant House paramount exposure. They use it of course to their advantage. In the front window there is a framed watercolour of Rowling herself sitting at a table penning her future book. Underneath this it's the story of how she whiled away the hours inspired by the views of the city around her. This is the reason why during the festival the Elephant House is flocked with people. Tourists old and young and from all over the world congregate and have photos taken standing next to the picture in the window. To me it's quite bizarre to have a picture stood next to a picture, but I think I was one of the rare-breeds that missed out on the Harry Potter hype. Having never read it I can't criticise or applaud her work, but I can absolutely admire her success.
People not only stand waiting for a photo in front of the coffee shop, they also stand in queues that run outside the door waiting for a table for lunch. Again bizarre. I remember passing people in Milton Keynes shopping centre on several occasions queueing to get a table at Pizza Hut and thought "Are you serious? It's Pizza Hut!" But at least Edinburgh during the festival can get extremely busy and you might be in for a wait wherever you chose to eat at lunch.
This is the reason, however, that every time I've walked passed the Elephant House I've kept walking. Don't get me wrong it looks very inviting, but I've never had the time to stand and wait.
On this occasion I walked past and figured I must have got the timing right. Although there was still a queue, it didn't stretch as far as the door and with three people working behind the counter I took my chances. Inside is definitely charming. It has a kind of continental feel about it which comes across as both polished and rustic. The walls are peaches and oranges decorated with small pieces of art. Heavy material lampshades hang from the ceiling and dark wooden tables and chairs are scattered across the floor. The set-up for ordering I suppose is quite similar to Starbucks. You queue up at the front counter to order (lunch orders included) and then wait to be seated. Your drinks are prepared as you wait and food later served to your table. As I watched the ebb of people coming in the set-up seemed a bit chaotic, waiters dashed to the front to block people from helping themselves to a table. In all honesty if I saw a queue at the counter and a few empty tables I would probably make the same assumption that people were queueing for a takeaway service, just like I was. Still once people had got the gist and read the signs it seemed to quieten down the confusion.
As I waited I admired the food in the deli counter to my right. There were fresh quiches, half slices of pizza, vegetable and meat pies and fresh cakes and flapjack slices. Along the back of the counter on the ever popular blackboards were the lunch time offerings and prices. I'm surprised at how popular this place is yet how affordable it remains. Just like when a restaurant gets a Michelin star and ups it's prices by two-thirds, it would be easy for the Elephant House to ask for more simply to sit where J K Rowling barked her bum.
In terms of the service it is proficient and professional. The ladies behind the counter serve with speed, but precision. Less time is given to general chit-chat, but with lines normally out of the door this is probably developed through habit and only a good thing. The lady who takes my order listens carefully to my coffee instructions and offers a nod and a courteous "Sure". To my surprise she also asks if I would like one shot or two in my coffee. This is rare these days, when two shots is the standard. I'm glad to be offered the option and choose the one shot. I watch carefully as she heats the milk and then swirls it in the metal jug. I'm prepared to ask for it hotter or for more milk, but again to my surprise she serves it roasting hot and to the brim. The result is a velvety hot coffee that melts down your throat. Delicious! I genuinely walk along the street with a smile on my face. It's sad how one good cup of coffee can make such a genuine improvement to my day. This place, despite it's popularity as the "birthplace of Harry Potter" clearly has a lot more going for it. There is a really good atmosphere and although it is busy it's not cacophonous. There is a mild hum of conversation and coffee machines rather than a shrill discord present in many larger coffee shops.
Although I'm not sure their coffee could, as they claim on their website, "satisfy your every need" it certainly did taste good. And I can certainly see how writers could sit for hours penning novels in the back room.
If I was to bring visitors up to Edinburgh I would chose to take them here without a doubt and for no other reason than the taste of the coffee and the shop itself. A truly delightful place.
P.S Please ignore the random person in the corner of the photo. It is not me and I would never wear those trousers.
Frothy Fun Fact of the Day: The Harry Potter books have been translated into 67 different languages and the seventh and final book in the series sold 11 millions in it's first 24 hours of release. Go on Elephant House ride that band-wagon and ride it hard.
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