One necessity of relocating yourself for work, whether it be for a week or a year, is finding your coffee place.
And what’s even more difficult is when you’re out and about in the field, knowing where you can get a decent cup of Joe. I know of a couple of good places in Darwin City. Out near the depot where I'm working - not so much.
And another thing. I drink decaf. I do this for health reasons. I love the taste of coffee, but I can’t do that much caffeine. Decaf has got a lot better over the years. And being a decaf drinker, I tend to go in with very low expectations and then I’m happy when I’m surprised.
Until today, Darwin has met and exceeded my expectations when it comes to decaf. The coffee shop on the opposite corner makes a good decaf. The 1995 Café, another near the office in town, makes very good Melbourne-style coffee complete with tattooed hipsters to serve whilst giving you judgy side eye. Feels just like home.
But working out in the sticks makes lunch options a bit more difficult. By the sticks, I mean working in a suburb a few kilometres away. There's very little out this way.
Yesterday, a colleague gave me a meandering tour of an inner suburb. He claimed that he knows how to drive there but is crap at navigating. I can attest to this.
Today, after last night’s visit to the supermarket, I’d bought my lunch, but forgot to bring it with me, so I went back into town for lunch in my hotel room. It was a good move after a morning of meetings.
On the way out, I stopped in for a coffee. At the coffee shop right next to work. Which everybody had warned me not to go into.
I should have heeded the warnings. I was in a rush.
“Hi, can I please have an almond decaf latte?”
“Sure. What’s the name for that?”
“Panda.”
They go to write my name into the register, but look back at me. “Panda?”
“Like the bear.”
“Oh.” They looked a bit puzzled. “That’s a funny name.”
“Short for Pandora.”
They seemed happy with this. I paid for the coffee. The server, who was young, and very pleasant, went about their business.
Stood to the side to wait for my coffee.
Others were served around me. All good. It’s a lunchtime. They’re busy.
A few minutes later, I hear, “Um, is there a Panda here. “
“Yep. That’s me.” I raised my hand.
“Sorry, we’re out of decaf. We can do you a chai, or a tea..?”
Being out of decaf is nothing out of the ordinary. McDonalds used to do decaf. Not any more. Most shops remember they're out of decaf well after they've taken your order.
I shrugged, it was fine. Used to it. “Almond chai, please. “
A few minutes later I got my chai and traipsed off to get in the car from the car park next to the city office.
For the next half an hour I pondered where I had tasted chai like this before. And I drink a bit of chai. Normally wet chai – tea bags or leaves. This, I’m sure, was the powdered stuff.
It was sweet – too sweet. It left an aftertaste that lasted for a good half hour. It wasn’t unpleasant, but it wasn’t quite what I was expecting.
Then I got it. I had to delve long and hard into my memories, back to childhood.
Egg Nog. When I was a teenager, there used to be this milk drink in a carton called Egg Nog. I used to love it. It might just be a South Australian thing, like so many of the foods.
This chai tasted like that Egg Nog drink. I believe they now sell it at Christmas at Coles.
Not that I mind it, but it was pretty awful chai. The 30 minute aftertaste was a give away.
Allegedly, the coffee is so dire, nobody will go to that cafe.
Hmm. I might give the place a miss next time I’m in dire need for a decaf.
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