I walked in as if my mistake. A subtle nod and I had the best table in Mosman. I sat down. From my seat the overwhelming aroma of freshly ground coffee beans, searing bacon and eggs washed over my double breasted leather full length coat. I sat alone as my cappuccino and banana bread arrived. A single coin of Pepe Saya butter was placed on top of the banana bread like the ancient Chachapoyan Fertility Idol. As if under a spell, methodically ate everything to the beat of a Middle Eastern trance shuffle trap theme, the apparent soundtrack to this corner haven. Amid a handful of languages, interrupted by incessant bell ringing and the sharp steam exhaust of the La Marzocco coffee droid I was abruptly interrupted by my VoxComms and had to depart in the same manner I arrived.
5/5 would recommend.
