Ok, bear with me, I am listening to NON in my dark bedroom so I may or may not trans/descend into some form of higher/sub consciousness.
My roommate told me about Prufrock when I told him about this 'project' so we went along one day. Bear in mind that he doesn't actually LIKE coffee...he drinks it for a buzz, not for the taste. Which is the opposite for me; caffeine has very little effect on me and I drink coffee purely for the taste.
The clothes store that houses Prufrock is pretty fuckin' Shoreditch but don't be put off. The menu is as follows:
-4oz espresso with milk
-6oz espresso with milk
-8oz espresso with milk
Basically that is espresso, macchiato, flat white, latte. But why write that when you can look extra cunty? I love it.
It's a pop-up coffee bar run by 2009 World Barista Champion Gwilym Davies. The coffee itself is impeccable, totally blew me away. Best I've had since Intellegentsia (sigh...). 8oz espresso with soymilk (which the awkward barista told me smelled like 'custard'...k buddy) makes me so happy.
But can we take a second here... both times I've got coffee I have had the same blobby not even half-assed attempt at presentation, while other customers get foam art. I am not an idiot, I drink coffee whatever it looks like, but I can't help feeling like I am getting unfair treatment. I have low enough self esteem without being denied my pointless and pretentious heart or rosetta or fern GOD FUCKING DAMNIT.
I think I am having a minor Boyd Rice-induced meltdown. Go to Prufrock, don't be put off by how it appears from the outside.