Coffee worth queueing for
Snell Parade, Stamford Hill Daily 6am to 5pm
082 773 6870
I CAN pull a decent coffee, but I’ve never been good at frothing milk.
I have tried, and even been shown by one of Durban’s best baristas, but somehow I just don’t get it. A home cappuccino for me is a dire affair, a milky creation that might, if you’re being kind, be described as a sloppy latte. So I always admire a good barista’s skill.
The hard first three months of lockdown were tough. That’s when the country’s super nanny NDZ included coffee in her infamous cooked chicken diktat. So when the first real relaxation came in June, and we were allowed an exercise window of three hours and a real coffee, that Saturday we hit the promenade and the Bike and Bean.
Obviously the rest of Durban had the same idea. The socially distanced queue was almost back to Suncoast. We took turns standing in it while the others walked the promenade. But despite pulling more coffees in three hours than they had probably ever done before, the baristas didn’t flag. The rich golden cappuccino was like nectar. It restored the soul.
Popping in this week, there was still a socially distanced queue, but fortunately not all the way back to Suncoast.
The Bike and Bean is basically a glorified takeaway – albeit one with a neighbourly, community feel.
Inside is one long counter made up out of old wooden doors, and a group
of friendly staff waiting to take your order. The menu is chalked up on the board. The barista takes your coffee order while you're still queueing to pay for it. You’re given one of those square buzzers which will alert you when the food is ready.
Outside are a few wooden tables – all full – and a row of socially distanced plastic chairs along the verge for people to take in the sea. What a good idea. I did just that as I enjoyed an excellent Americano.
Food options are simple. There’s the Bean 10 with bacon, eggs, cheese, avo and mushrooms, or a Full House with bacon, egg and mushrooms, both at R45. Then there are things like avo on toast, to which you can add feta and onions, or a three-cheese sarmie with basil pesto, or any number of combinations with eggs, bacon or avo in a roll. A few toasted sandwiches complete the picture, while the most expensive food offering is a chicken burger with either pepper or mushroom sauce at R50. There’s even the intriguing funny eggs, although chatting through masks over the whirl of the coffee machine, I didn’t quite get what was funny with them.
On the day I was there they were out of avos, which limited things a bit, but I opted for the omelette, R45. It was substantial and well-stuffed with cheese, bacon and mushrooms, and came with some spicy beans on the side. The toast was extra at R6. It was delicious and a substantial breakfast.
Also on the food list is a range of home-baked items, individually wrapped. Date balls, crunchies, chocchip biscuits, coconut clusters and muffins all feature. I relished a very good chocolate brownie (R19) with a second cup of coffee while watching the world go by.
The whole time cyclists glided past, runners trundled by, there were a few paddlers out on the ocean. A shirtless guy showed off chiselled abs shamelessly to a gaggle of Durban North cycling mommies. They were decked out in their “uniforms”, with one in blue leopard print lycra, another in pink. Yet a third was actually wearing leopard-coloured leopard print.
But it wasn’t only about bodies beautiful. People of all walks of life were relaxing after a morning’s exercise whether on the promenade or in the ocean. Even on a gloomy day with the squalls of drizzle visibly approaching, the coffee machine continued to whirr away.
3 ½
3 ½
4
Food: Service: Ambience:
A FIERCE debate about ethics, legitimacy, truth and honour broke out on the couch this week.
And no, it was not about the Zondo commission, impeachment trial, helicopter tea trip or any grubby, dirty-handed politician, but about bird sightings.
Nature lovers and twitchers are welcome to weigh in.
I have always been enchanted and fascinated by birds and animals.
My jungle garden attracts many visitors. A nearby conservation spot is home to a pair of fish eagles which often serenades us, a slightly absurd sound to hear in a suburb while hanging up the washing, but one which always sets my heart aflutter.
Hell, I even like the noisy hadedas and welcome them nesting and honking just outside my lounge window.
And having an occasional face-off with the monkeys when the primates try to use their nesting branch to get on the roof.
WildEarth was the way my sister began and wound down her day, and I started watching as a way to keep the close connection we shared. It’s now my default channel and has been an eye-widening education.
It’s like I’ve been suffering from the Dunning-Kruger effect, the theory that sometimes you are too dumb or ignorant to know what you don’t know and so don’t actively try to learn more.
I’ll tell you my learning curve has been steep, and the ignorance profound. But it has also been an appetite-whetting inspiration to start filling the hole.
The debate question is: can one claim a bird or animal sighting if one is stuck on the couch watching WildEarth for hours?
“Driving” on the daily safaris has opened a world of sounds and beautiful creatures. Now I want to learn their names and all about them.
The debate came about after one of the guides accidentally flushed out a hard-to-find bird (a bronze-winged courser) because it is nocturnal.
He said he knew a man who had spent years camping out and patiently tracking this bird, but had never spotted one.
The man apparently will not claim a sighting unless he has photographed the subject, and recorded the exact time and place.
Could I, with little effort and dedication, claim it as a sighting? Can people on game drives claim sightings even though it was the guide or tracker who found the animal?
Doesn’t seem fair.
Once you get the bug, there’s always the pull of making a list of what you’ve seen, where, what it was doing and with whom.
I want to get an app which, apart from all the relevant details you need to know, will play bird sounds, and they are not cheap. Some include a list you can build and I really, really want to do that.
However, after back surgery and a fall that reminded me that recovery can be long, slow and painful and not to be risked regularly, my natural exploration will be limited to the couch.
Talk about learning: getting older is something you also have to learn to live with and realise some things will no longer be in your mobility repertoire.
And, of course, there’s Covid. The debate continues, but I’m swinging towards starting my list, even if it means keeping it secret.