I’m in 2 minds. And it’s not often I am. So it is unnerving me a little. You see, I was invited to go along to Workshop Coffee (27 Clerkenwell Rd) by their PR agency. The PR girl wanted me to review how they make their coffee, soak up the atmosphere and, after indulging in their treats, write it up as a review for you, my lovely reader.
And I did. In fact, I even braved the snow and held back on my morning caffeine so that I could fall in love, all over again, with the perfectionist Antipodean coffee culture, this time at the Workshop Coffee Co.
When I got there, the manager didn’t know that I was coming. The PR had clearly forgotten to tell him. But – I’m a grown up and seeing as I was accompanied by an equally hungry/thirsty grown up – we coped just fine. Scrolling through my iPhone with freezing fingers and a rumbling tummy, I called the PR only to understand that she was cancelling. Now. And then her boss got a little shouty on the phone. ‘The coffees will be free,’ she screeched ‘but nothing more’.
And my point here (finally) is that Workshop Coffee is unbelievably brilliant. My pot of Rwanda Buf Caf (£4)was exquisitely sweet and citrus-y, LL’s cappuccino (£2.80) was one of the best she’s ever had and the homemade jam with sourdough toast was faultless. BUT, do I simply relay this or do I delve into just how miserable the PRs were?
Shouting or no shouting, invited or not – just starve yourself before you take a trip to Workshop Coffee. It’s a real treat. Oh and next time I’ll go incognito.