Day 3: Adelaide Coffee Bar, 73 Grenfell St

As far as workplace ailments go, the only thing worse than Mondayitis is Wednesdayitis. MMC and friend agree that a damn good coffee is required to get through ‘Hump Day’, as named by the innuendo-autistic. The Adelaide Coffee Bar on Grenfell came highly recommended, not least by the pal we saw taking away this very morning. It’s about time, said pal greets us, because the last two MMC visits were a little lowbrow. Remedy: standard flat white, large latte (in the absence of medium). Price: $3.20 = smile, $4.00 = so-so hand motions.

Hark, what is that pleasant aroma? It’s coffee, and it’s character.
Greeting: clumsily across food display, but we’ve ordered within seconds of stepping inside warm brick. Shopspace: clever fitout. Two rows of spunky lighting, cheery round tables, and cleverly magnifying mirrors on the far wall. Chalkboard style signage and display counters are loaded with brunchy foods and creative beverage options.

Under the sheltering outdoor umbrellas, it’s possible to forget you’re on busy Grenfell Street. We expectantly settle between breakfast meetings, with envious glances at the next table’s raisin toast spread. The vibe is almost Melbourne/Flinders Lane-y, and we’re wooed by prompt, spill-free table service. Presentation: tall, slender friend of MMC is impressed by a tall, slender glass. One gets the impression that hot chocolate would be a grand affair.

Have a glance at today’s pic. The Pour: what do you think? Middle-of-the-road for a flat white? Feel free to object. Unlike its useless takeaway cousin, a flat white in a dainty cup can be the purest and most magical of the cafe au lait experiences. That perfect high pour can deliver the finest of feathertops, and the subtlest, silky foam coverlet. At an over-generous 6mm, my foam doesn’t approach the ethereal. It is also dark with crema: the type you wilfully leave in the bottom of the cup.

Ach, flavour: also heartbreakingly imperfect. Juusst edging into burnt/bitter/acidic territory, hence the crema-stained facade. It’s not entirely unpleasant, but without a chocolate/mint/biscuit chaser, the aftertaste will linger ‘til lunch. On the other side of the table, Friend of MMC again has issues with strength. Will he find the plus-sized holy grail? Or should he descend to the lowlands of standard sizing? Time will tell.

Lesson: maybe you can’t judge a cafe by its 1898-dated, Gothic-designed, Federation brickworked cover. But if you’re interested to read that Bertram House, converted to a coffee shop in the 1990s, was actually built as the SA headquarters of British & Foreign Bible Society (as in, we publish the world’s best-selling book), either check out the plaque on the Coromandel Lane side, or mosey through the Env/Heritage departmental website. But whatever you do, don’t fling your coffee dregs at the cream render, because the ACB is building-mates with a local law firm, and damaging a heritage lister carries cash penalties of up to $120K. Now that’s a lot of coffees.

The latte word: 3-3.5 beans out of five. Join us tomorrow as we drop in on a city North establishment rumoured to be the best-value vendor of My Morning Coffee.

Link: Article on Heritage Bricks