Mature love

Once again I find myself indulging in some self-care on the Kingston Foreshore after having the delight that is Angus’ Elbow pummel my hips. Feeling looser and generally with a skippy disposition I decided to try the other EB dealer with a water view.

The weather was overcast, but still warm and bright. After ordering at the counter I took a seat undercover, tucked in a corner. I wanted to just sit back as watch the world go by.

After a few minutes of that I got bored, so decided I’d catch a few Pokemon in the wild. I’m a sucker for this game. It’s got me walking again and the combination of elbow and cartoon aliens has seen my daily walking increase a few kilometres. Sometime though, you can catch loads when sat, relaxing.

I had ordered the Halloumi EB. I was curious to see how the salty, cooked cheese would work. The description on the menu claimed ‘Two free range egg, sauteed spinach, Hollandaise, sourdough.’ Yes, despite there being two, egg was singular, and yes, half way through the description, the name of the sauce was capitalised.

I realise that my inner grammar nerd was kicking in, so I smile and remind myself that we all make mistakes, and how the menu is presented isn’t necessarily a reflection on the quality of the food.

My EB arrived at the same time as an older couple sat at the table next to me, in an otherwise deserted cafe. I inwardly roll my eyes and mutter something about ‘herding instinct’ before paying attention to my meal.

It looks good.

Even better the sauce is golden yellow indicating that it might not be packet sauce. I’ve come to realise that many places buy in their sauce. It has an insipid butter yellow colour and tastes way too creaming and completely lacks the lemon tang of homemade.

This beauty was not the usual packet, but not really tangy, so I can’t quite put my finger on the origins. It wasn’t too bad though.

Him in a loud voice more suited for shouting across a workshop: ‘Can we run away to an island somewhere, just us, I want to ravish you’.

I’m not convinced the spinach was sauteed. Rather waved over the pan and thrown on top of the sourdough.

Him: ‘Your touch, it makes me feel so alive’. As he takes her hand.

The knife sliced throgh the smooth textures of the sauce over the poached eggs with ease.

Him: ‘I’m so in love with your face and skin’

As I cut into the egg the vibrant, orange, yolk spilled over the hard, toasted bread onto the plate.

I heard her breath out and say: That’s enough Dear.
I wanted to tell you that Sarah* can’t make it on Saturday night.’

There was a rapid shift in tone an he said, at the same oversharing volume: ‘What the f*cking, f*ck!? F*cking lightweight letting us the f*ck down again.’

I popped a fork load into my mouth. The cheese was rather tasteless and overwhelmed by the sauce.

I was impressed with his use of the most versatile word in the English language but even more with his ability to complete ignore the momentary slip of decorum and go back into romancing the woman sitted opposite.

i’m alive
at your touch
every inch burns
to be with you —
f*cking f*cking

I finished my lunch and stood up. He seemed startled by the movement behind him, he turned a looked at me briefly, he turned back and lent in to his partner and whispered ‘was she there the whole time?’

She just nodded slowly. Her mouth a thin slit, eyes closed.

Overall the food was a little better than OK, but totally out shined by the accidental entertainment. Sadly the show isn’t guaranteed with every meal.

I’d like to finish by saying, what’s with charging an extra 19c for paying with a card in CoVid times?

Who’s still carrying cash?

This surcharge alone would be enough for me to take my business elsewhere.

Location: Dockside Cafe
Address: 13/81 Giles St, Kingston ACT 2604
Website: docksidecoffeehouse.com.au

EB Price: $19 (Bacon $21 Salmon $22)