My apologies for not posting on Friday. I know it’s my thing. But my phone broke and it set me back.
So, as you might have read, I went to Budapest last weekend with my boyfriend. It was our 3rd anniversary that Friday, so a mini-getaway fitted perfectly. We visited a spa and many great restaurants (Drum Café Budapest and Mazel Tov being the favourites). But most of all it was a coffee trip.
The last one I went to was Coffee Cat, so let’s start at the end?
Coffee Cat was this cute little place I went to by chance. I had to wait a few hours for him, so I wanted to sit somewhere and write. I had done my research on the rest of Budapest, this was not on the list. Sometimes these chance encounters are so charming, this was no exception.
There were 4 small tables + the window bar, so this was a tiny place. The counter and space for the cakes and coffee machine took up a 4th of the shop. The walls were decorated with black&white photographs of the city and in the window there were a stuffed toy cat. There were another toy cat in a box under the table, with other toys too. I can picture kids playing there, while their parents drink their espressos and catch up on the last pages of the newspaper that they didn’t have time to finish in the morning rush.
The barista greeted me with a big smile and invited me in. He suggested a poppy-seed pastry and I ordered it + a cappuccino. The cappuccino was ice, although I wouldn’t call it memorable. But what coffee could really be memorable when you have your first ever experience of a poppy-seed pastry? I don’t think any could.
I am trying to place the taste… It’s like taking a sip of water from a cold river in a pine forest. Like the smell of wet moss drying in sunlight filtering down through the branches. Yeah. It’s stupid. But how can you place a flavour, or explain a sensation, you haven’t ever had or tasted before? We have to turn to our memories and ask “What does this remind me off?” And your brain will fetch out the closest sensation it can. It is an artform in itself to associate like that. Think about how a bag of coffee can have on it “Tastes like strawberry jam” or cherries or burnt wood. And then it actually does, when someone tells you. You couldn’t place it yourself, but you knew it reminded you of something. Our memories lead us to the associations.
Anywho. This was a quiet place. Sweet. Perfect for writing. I would be back for more pastry, and would probably grab a coffee too and eventually make friends with the barista, so yeah, I liked it here.
Pastry: 5/6 🌟 🌟 🌟 🌟 🌟
Atmosphere: 4/6 🌟 🌟 🌟 🌟 🌟
Coffee (which is most important): 3/6 🌟 🌟 🌟
Final verdict: 3/6 🌟 🌟 🌟