Melbourne Cafe Reviews

vidamaria:

I had a capuccino at Journal Cafe yesterday and it was the worst ever. It was flat, a smallish cup and way far too much chocolate sprinkled on top. The guy next to me had a cappucino as well and spent a few minutes spooning off the chocolate before sipping. Then the coffee was not even warm and a good flavour was sorely lacking. For $5.50 it was an outrageous let down. At that price one would expect an exceptionally good capuccino. It was simply robbery! I was peeved and paid begrudgingly. I won’t be back. Why $5.50 I cannot understand, better coffees in many places in town for less than $4. Who is raking in the unfairly made profits?

Jack W S:

I have lived opposite Journal for some 2 years now and this place is part of the fabric of my life. I have lived through some of the saddest and happiest moments of my life sat on either one of the long tables or by myself in the corner stool facing the library walkway.

Once I cunningly forgot my keys and locked out of my apartment, the only warm and inviting place in winter to wait with a vantage point on our front door is the corner seat by the awesome bulb amp / ipod stereo for the return of my flatmate. Perfect so that I may pounce on him at his very emergence. I was eyed up by staff members at the time as being somewhat of a voyeur, my eyes transfixed on the street but I have had a love/hate relationship with all the staff there since I moved in. I’ll come back to that.

I feel sorry for the blogger above who had a bad coffee experience as my espresso in the morning served cleverly in a small take away cup is always fruity and sharp, and short! At $3.20 – I agree you pay more, but wouldn’t you pay more for a Masserati over a Ford Laser. Their short black is the best around the Degraves district, and I don’t mind paying more. Rather than just being a coffee in the morning. I mentally enjoy the experience and see it as an art form rather than a hit of caffeine or a drink. I compare it going to a good art exhibition where you get to taste the art!

My love/hate relationship with the staff has transpired mainly from the fact they are all so very cool for school. There was a British lass who seemed to dislike me much, but that may be due to the fact that as they only take cash and I walked out one day in a daydream forgetting to pay – with a member of staff running down the street after me – I felt most embarrassed being British and all myself.

They tend to have very quirky and pretty waiting staff. They are challenging as they’re aren’t many smiles, but agree that it wouldn’t suit the environment to have too many smiley faces. This is a designed, accurate and sharp space. Next time you are there, just admire the line work on the fixed bar stools in the corner looking out to the library walkway. They’re a mix of art deco and heavy industry. The tramway posters from England on the corner walls are very now and the tiled mosaic work on the expansive bar is so subtle you might miss it. There is little out of place. Even the horizontal trellis covering up the kitchen area works well with the rest of the lines of the light controlled but not deprived area.

When I go in after work sometimes for a G&T, I’ll sit on the side couch and just sit. Sit and observe the world and people around me – that’s all I really want to do. It’s a place for thinking and contemplating. I can remember going when I had found out my father had contracted cancer, when I was working out what I wanted to do with my life, when I met the girl of my dreams and wanted to relive all the happy moments in an area that never wants to disengage you or try and attract your attention, but let you drift. It comes back to why I think the staff shouldn’t smile or talk too much.

I have read, written, designed in that space. One edgy staff member asked me if I was a graphic designer once. She broke the unwritten ‘rule’. She has engaged with me and I was shocked. But I responded and our brief chat pleased me but thankfully did not phase me. I continue to think that I may write short stories or create in their space without feeling the pressure of a watchful eye. Their eyes stay firmly on my empty tumbler of water or espresso cup. My empty plate is cleared away without ever so much of flutter and the refill question is always quite discreet.

My all time favourite snack for breakfast or lunch is the toasted leg ham, cheddar and tomato sandwich with their trademark drizzle of olive oil on the top. The butter melts, the cheese is melted the taste of olive oil mixed with great tasting tomatoes, cut in half makes my heart melt everytime.

You could happily sit there alone or with someone. I rarely take anyone there as it tends to be ‘me’ time. However, as I have just met ‘the’ girl I want to take there, it looks like there could be more shared moments to come. Reading the paper, handing each other the different sections as we’ve finished. Munching on toasted olive oil sandwiches. She, the hot chocolate. Me, the short black.

I’d like her to taste the breakfast there. I have had their fruit and yogurt and the porridge. Both excellent. Of note is the attention to detail. But still keeping things simple. The honey on the porridge was a real touch of class for what is simple oats. Same on the fruit and yogurt combo.

I first fell in love with Journal because of their logo. Its a testament to lasting graphic design. It appears on a page by itself in my visual inspiration diary. Their calling card is large and looks stamped, mostly crooked. It needed change for hundreds of years. It will stand the test of time, the change of fads and fashions. The line work reflects the interior. The vertical grill with the letters standing proud is one I have even tried to replicate for other projects. Its inspiring, edgy, modern – but timeless.

The music from the corner large amp stereo really needs a mention. They played the Smiths the other day – and I jumped for joy. ‘There is a light that never goes out’. How fitting I thought.

I don’t know who owns Journal; I don’t know any names of members of staff; I don’t know if they recognise me as I walk in (oh – its him again…); I don’t know if when I move, I’ll go back again; I don’t know how much I’ve really thought about it or them. All I know is that it’s just a small part of me. Of my time living in Degraves. My ups and downs and it’s my story that I get to tell.

There are so many other moments I wish I had written down. Maybe one day I will. Journal deserves that story.