Flat White/Sacred Cafe, London

(1) Melancholy trip up to say goodbye to my old apartment (2) Frustrating and expensive mission to replace my passport (lost my purse during moving, let the shit rain down on me). 'Make it stop' element to both somewhat lessened by the inclusion of coffee.

I spent ages trying to think of what else SFW could stand for but they were all lame.

So Fucking Weird? I am not 14, I'm not wearing a tshirt that says 'you're just jealous that all the little voices are talking to me' that I bought from Camden Market.

So Fucking Wired is way more suitable. I seem to spend a lot of my life in a state of wound-up alert these days.

 This book is really good. I picked it up used for really cheap. Right now I'm reading the chapter which discusses theories based around how the sex drive and death drive are connected despite the latter being the antithesis of the 'innate' need to 'continue the species'.

Dunno if understanding aggression will help me deal with my own anger issues or allow me to refine my hate even further. I wonder if I need anger management?

Look Mum, No Hands - London

Awful name. Not sure if it's better or worse than Tina, We Salute You (one of the highest rated coffee shops in London despite this)? It kinda fits with the whole bike-courier-Williamsburg-hang-out thing I guess...for better or worse...god what am I saying? I've become everything I hate.

I was in town for the Violent Shitt/Good Throb (both bands RULE, really looking forward to seeing both of them again) show and to see my lovechild/ex roommate Coco. Everyone I called was too hungover to hang out (~smug nondrinker~)so I trekked to Old St to check this place out.

Aside from the personal name-based grudge, I really liked LMNH. It's BIG which is a MASSIVE BONUS because I sat there for 4 hours and didn't feel like I was outstaying my welcome. Milk Bar/Flat White/Nude provide the upper-echelon of coffee and snobbery but they get pretty cramped, especially at weekends, and all close 6pm at the latest whereas this place stays open til 8 or 10pm.

The shop is full of bikes and bike shit which is cool if you like bikes and wanna stare at them. Lots of bike people with small hats and lycra. I basically sat at the window for a really long time waiting to go meet friends, mainlining long blacks (v. good) and reading Blanchot essays on my macbook (wifi! another BONUS). Nice staff. Cheap and quality coffee. Welcoming atmosphere. It's a little 'out of the way' (10 min walk from Old St) but worth it.

Sacred Cafe

Carnaby St/Covent Garden, London

Carnaby Street likes to think it's really cool because it has like, boutique shops and the Vans store is there but really it's just Oxford Street minus a few thousand people. Aka, still my own personal hell. Sometimes I wonder why I moved to London and then I remember it's because I thought I was too cool for Brighton (more fool me as I run back, tail between my legs). I have, however, perfected my own personal blend of industrial strength misanthropic vitriol which allows me to continue existing in a non-hermetic state. As a result, I braved central London to meet my friend James.

I hadn't heard of Sacred Cafe so it was on his recommendation (always appreciated as the internet can be a somewhat dubious resource and there's only so much you can gain from Time Out).

Turns out it's a really nice coffee shop and manages to trick you into thinking you're not in Cunt Central which is quite an achievement. Due to the location the queue was always pretty long but w/e I will wait 5 mins for something once I know it's worth it (5 mins is sometimes generous twss).

Larger coffees than places like Nude or Flat White but the taste wasn't particularly compromised. Very friendly baristas, nice food, reasonably priced. I made James order me a long soy macchiato which might even be worse than 'double shot mocha with soy and vegan chocolate'.

The day after I went to get my hair cut as part of my high-functioning emotional breakdown and went to the Covent Garden shop which was not as nice but the coffee was just as good. They use their own blend which I would probably buy to use at home if I didn't already have 4 bags of beans on the go (I have no life).

Bea's of Bloomsbury

Holborn, London

I know everyone still buttfucks cutesy cupcake culture but it's not something I am massively into. I don't have much of a sweet tooth and tend to think of cake as a pointless addition to life that will never make you feel anything more than regret for eating it. As of now, my only 'vice' is coffee and I am totally fine with that, why the fuck would I eat cake to make up for not drinking or smoking? Idiotic. This is why people get obese: cupcakes are a gateway drug. They're small so you think they don't count but therein lies your mistake, fatty. Have an apple.

Anyway, baked-goods based rants aside, the coffee here is really quite good. They use Square Mile AND Bonsoy so that is 2 A+ before I've even tried it. I had 2 flat whites and both were great. The shop was cold as fuck though, and putting the heating on isn't gonna break the bank guys, obviously you make a pretty penny via frosting and if I wanted to freeze my ass off while I discussed disillusionment and possible future spinsterdom I would sit at home.

Fig. 1: return of the blob. Personally I think it resembles an infected vagina (vile gash?). Artfully rendered at least. Almost Picasso-esque but with less of the classical Cubism; the fluidity of the blobs suggests a move away from the harsh, boxed in quality of his earlier work.

Obviously Bea's coffee does not suffer from the shop's focus on food and cakes, which is nice and somewhat of a novelty. Unfortunately, and this is not their fault, I am like the antichrist of twee and objects like this <<< offend mine eyes greatly.

On the way home I bought a life-sized skull tealight holder. Fuck you, cakestand.

Taste of Bitter Love

Hackney Rd, London

I have the pleasure of currently residing a stones throw from the beautiful Hackney Road. It should really be a National Trust recognized area of natural beauty. Such divine visions accost you at every turn...the discount luggage store...the discount shoe store...the kebab shop...the travel inn...the National Front pub...Hackney City Farm and its 3 sheep and clinically depressed pigs.

I went to The Taste of Bitter Love after hearing a LOT of good things, expecting something really great that would make up for how soul crushingly awful Hackney Rd is. As it happens, I was massively disappointed to the point of being angry. My anger was more from the rudeness of the barista; I am not a chatty person and I have worked in the service industry - I know sometimes you just want to get on with it. But if I try and make your day less shit by being nice to you then for FUCKS SAKE don't be rude to me because next time, so help me, I will not be nice.

Luckily (lol) it was the last day before they closed, which may have had something to do with the poor service, but can't justify the shitty latte I got. Horrible cheap soymilk (I know the exact guilty culprit and there's no excuse on spending 50p less a carton, yes I can taste it), very weak espresso, lukewarm to the point of being cold.

Whatever. Over it.

Camden Coffee House

Camden (no shit), London

So far we have had the good. Time for the not so good. Anywhere that serves milkshakes and chai tea lattes (which is what my companion got...jesus fuck are you an 11 year old girl?) is probably not gonna be AMAZING for coffee but I find it in my heart some time to not judge a book by its cover without caressing its pages.

Sadly I was right. The shop uses Has Bean blends which I haven't had before and wouldn't try again in a hurry. The espresso base was ok but nothing on Square Mile. The milk was too hot which is a schoolboy error. The microfoam was good though and apparently the incoherent galaxy is their 'signature' foam art (LAZY).

It's also a tiny shop but as far as I know, Camden isn't crawling with great places to get coffee. What it is crawling with are throwbacks from every music and style scene known to man so if you haven't been to see the weird and wonderful freaks...don't go. The town makes my skin crawl, every time I step off the subway I want to throw up everywhere. And I have spent a fair amount of time at the Underworld seeing hardcore bands of varying talent and eating thai vegan buffet.

Fuck Camden.

On a plus note, I got the opportunity to discuss the philosophy of war with my good friend Jack who is not only a writer but a BJJ instructor and general nihilistic asshole like myself. Here I am reading his first novel and pretending I am as smart as he is...

Prufrock @ Present

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:
-espresso
-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.

Milk Bar

Soho, London

Flat White's big sister. Apparently a 'milk bar' is an Australian thing but to me it sounds like some creepy, Clockwork Orange-esque establishment which would involve drinking the aforementioned non-vegan beverage direct from a swollen nipple attached to a distressed cow perhaps sporting some kind of latex.

I digress. It's roomier than FW but still retains the atmosphere and I like how high the bar is. Also, they do food and RUMOR HAS IT that there is vegan french toast to be had. Usually I am too excited about coffee for food but breakfast for dinner is one of my favorite things to do because I am 5 years old.

This is grumpy birthday me (seductive bags under eyes? rain-greased hair? dejected glare?) mid-way through a soy macchiato which was AMAZING. I could have a bath in those, I don't give a fuck, I want to douse myself in sweet, sweet espresso and stay awake forever (like Lady Bathory and virgins blood, see?)

Also, it stays open until 7pm which is late by London standards (oh England when will you learn to embrace coffee culture as equivalent to that of alcohol?).

Flat White

Soho, London.

Picture the scene: my 24th birthday, I am in a DARK PLACE (unfortunately unrelated in any way to Garth Marenghi) and the streets run amok with tourist shit cunts, xmas shopping like their lives mean nothing beyond materialistic offerings and getting in my way. My parents selfishly timed my birth exactly one week before xmas and every year the charade of excitement slips further and further away.

So my mum is in town and all I want to do is drink coffee and gaze broodingly through a rain splattered window so I made her go to Flat White with me.

It's great. My #1 coffee shop in London. Antipodean *check*; cute baristas *check*; impeccable flat white (would have to be as it is the shop's namesake) *check*; Square Mile specially designed blend *check* etc = when I can move in pls?

I went in recently with my friend Stu and they forgot our coffees (twice lol oh what are you guys like, fucking Kiwis...just kidding) but did try and bribe us with cake to apologize. Regretfully I am vegan and he's on a diet.

SEE? SEE THESE? This is foam art.

Nude Espresso

Bethnal Green, London

I love Nude for several reasons, not connected to the act of being nude, which whilst being brilliant for certain activities is not neccesarily a state I like to be in while around hot liquids (twss?)

One, it is 20 mins walk from my apartment. Two, everyone that works there is really nice. Three, they use the Holy Bonsoy, milked from the finest Australian soybean nipples. Four, it is probably the only thing I like about Brick Lane which is a massive sea of cunts.

And obviously the coffee is awesome. Consistently awesome. I usually get a three shot flat white which is always impeccably made and presented. Nude is tied top 3 of my favorite places to get coffee in London.

They also sell their own blends for a very reasonable £6ish and if you are partial to food what has got cheese and meats in it then I believe they do a good sandwich too.

TOURIST TIP: The street the shop is on was where Jack the Ripper committed one of his first murders. I like to roll around on the sidewalk in imaginary evisceration after my coffee.