Coffee

I’m still standing…yeah yeah yeah

Im still standing better than I did before‘ sang Elton John (surprise given the six Martinis he’d just thrown back with Duran Duran) as he pranced on this very street back in ’83…‘lookin’ like a true surviver, feeling like a little kid’ sang I while barely suppressing the urge to skip. And why not? I’m on the Promenade des AnglaisNice…the Côte d’AzurFrance!

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20130901-124126.jpgA quick sidestep to view the beach delights with a six emotion slam dunk. Curiosity, intrigue, surprise, thrill, fear, reverence. She’s frail, 70+, snowy white curls, helped over the pebbles by two burly lifesavers, plunges in, flips over, topless and backstrokes smoothly out to sea, bosoms a bobbing. Elle est magnifique!

20130901-124203.jpgInto a side street to the old town and on through the famous Cour Saleya Saturday markets: poisson and fromage to the left; figues, roses, framboises to the right. Followed by coffee and a wonderfully fluffy omelette with the most interesting frites…slender, concave and just too delish to leave.

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20130901-124343.jpgOnto the hairdresser where Thierry wields scissors like a chaff cutter while a waif with pouting ruby red lips whisks away a fur ball equivalent in size to a small blond rodent. Fringe be gone!

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20130901-124454.jpgAnother coffee, the pure shot of caffeine jet propelling me up the Avenue Jean Médecin and the steps to the Parc du Château, all the while jabbering step count in French, as far as ‘Vingt‘ that is (213 if you must know). Photo op. Back down the other side to the Porte, a cocktail and aperitif, onto the No.81 and home.

Still jabbering. It’s 2am and I’M STILL BLOODY STANDING!’…damn coffee.

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Searching for a shake…

Sunday morning, nursing dusty hangover and wallowing in self pity when the darling Bellsies, bright eyed and bushy tailed after their early morning cycle, drop in and drag me kicking and screaming to a new coffee hole they’ve just discovered.

My personal hangover cure happens to be a pie and milkshake combo, but this argument falls on deaf ears…and I’m rather glad it did because this is one special little spot! ‘Shucked’ doesn’t deal in oysters as one would imagine with such a name but it does deal in kitch…a great big healthy bowl of it.

Quite literally a hole in the wall with another punched through to an open space that feels like your at one of those ‘garage confined’ parties…you know the ones? Crates ‘n stuff to sit on while pondering the status of the universe? Decor mirroring a melamine clad 60’s household, a mish mash of furnishings and funky wallpaper to match and my hangover head is spinning…in a really rather cool way actually.

Sipping a skinny latte that quite simply tantalises the taste buds over the front, middle and back palette…not dissimilar to the complexities of a fine red wine and something to do with the bean and host specific tailored roasting and we concur…bespoke coffee really is worth trawling for. But what about my ‘cure’?

An overview of Ipad presented menu reveals milkshakes! Ah! Bless!  Two ‘Turkish Delight’ shakes greedily slurped from real, deliciously cool old fashioned tin shakers later and I’m feeling  a tad better.

Toasted turkish pide topped with avocado, feta, semi dried tomatoes and snow pea sprouts substitute the ‘pie’, ticks the ‘virtuous’ box and goes down a treat while my mates hoover eggs nestled in bacon jackets, brekky burritos and more coffee and still more shakes. Just a few of the many delectable items on that menu.

Rubbing tum with satisfaction, I kiss my beloved Bellsies in gratitude and vow to return to ‘Shucked’ real soon…no excuses…and there really isn’t any…for ‘Shucked’ is just a block away!

Try it! Creswell St, Newstead

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