Coffee Club Remote

Dessert Anyone?
A Day in Stratford - Part Three

     I believe it was Billy Shakespeare that said (and I'm paraphrasing here) "All the world's a coffee house, and men and women are merely baristas and patrons". Our Day in the small hamlet of Stratford continues.

    PajavaGirl and I have just finished a lunch that contained no coffee, so we are eager to get on to our evening repast. We have chosen to eat dinner at The Annex because several years ago we had a very very long wait for some very very good food there, and this time we came bearing the wisdom of our past trip. We ambled down to the restaurant before going to the "Thee-ay-tohr" and made a reservation for after the show.

    Several hours and a jovial rendering of "As You Like It" by the Statford Theatre later we wandered back in and were seated in some comfy leather couches to await our server. Drinks were ordered, food was ordered. All was drank. All was eaten. None of this is important right now. After about an hour of this foreplay we came to the main reason for this article: coffee and dessert.

    A grade school substitute teacher of mine once suggested that the word "dessert" contains two S'es because you'd always like to have two desserts. I never forgot that. Why the hell could I not remember the finer intricacies of algebra? Because my early brain cells are left holding that tidbit alongside the jingle to the "Koogle" commercial. (Koogle was a chocolate spread not unlike today's "Nutella").

    Anyway, I digress. The meals were done, the plates were cleared. There were no specialty coffees on this menu, so PajavaGirl got creative and ordered a shot of Bailey's to go with hers. I took mine straight up with a twist of cream & sugar - so not straight at all, really. PajavaGirl complemented her coffee with a Creme Brulée.

"Why Creme Brulée?" I asked.

Her eyes glazed over.

"Mmmmm. Creme Brulée." was the only thing she would say.

    The dessert and its two steamy companions arrive in sync. "Mmmmm. Creme Brulée." says PajavaGirl. She seems fixated.

    Crack! Her spoon stabs through the glassy crust like a bullet through a windshield and she scoops up a mouthful of the crusted custard. Her boozy coffee lies ignored for now.

    Since I am not so involved, I decide to try my coffee. The cup has barely left my lips and I've made up my mind. Weakness is the name of the game in the Bard's Town. The coffee is drinkable, sure, but where's the punch!? What is wrong with this place? Are you telling me the best cup of Java I've had came from Tim Horton's?!? This watery swill is just a short degree above Porky's - and it sure don't come with the angelic waitress and infinite refills. I'm sorely missing urban life at this moment.

    Now, I know there are fancy-lad coffee shops in this town. I spotted at least two while shopping. But I am here to review for the common space-monkey, not the tasteless bourgeousis or the upwardly intended dual-income suburban couple. I believe a town has to be measured by the merits of the majority of its coffees, and this town is falling short by a royal mile.

    Oh, and PajavaGirl's comments on the dessert: "Nothing has compared to the memory of the Creme Brulée I had at Splendido on Harbord St in Toronto many years ago, but this comes pretty close." Apparently this "dessert of the gods" was the size of a serving bowl with fresh fruit in the custard with a perfectly burnt sugar crust. As you can see, The Annex was all about the big-arsed fancy plates with pretty sugary drizzles that any space monkey with a squeeze bottle could have made.

    So it's a hesitant thumbs up for dessert, and thumbs mediocre for the coffee. I guess Stratford is to coffee what Shakespeare was to the theatre in his day. Vulgar and brewed for the masses.

Next: We head for the city lights...