My adventure to ScooterCaffe was not as I intended. I wanted a hot chocolate; I ended up feeling like a hobo.
I normally don’t feature places that I absolutely loathe, but ScooterCaffe is worth laughing at. Read on…
My friend Mia had discovered a list of people’s recommendations for hot chocolates in London, on which ScooterCaffe was repeatedly recommended by Joe Bloggs and his brothers.
Alarm bells started ringing, however, during my online investigation prior to our visit. Customers were raving about the cats.
As a kid, I wanted to be a cat. I introduced myself as “Phoebe Amoroso Cat”. I drew many pictures of cats (including a picture of my father as a cat with glasses and a disproportionately large human penis attached – much to his approval).
My mum bought me a kitten when I was three. That’s when I got asthma and a whole load of allergies. Oh the ironies of my cat love! Cats and I do not mix. If you own a cat, I won’t be visiting your home. Within 20 minutes, I will fall ill. If I stay overnight in your house, I’m likely to be ill for the next 5 days. It’s that bad.
This meant ScooterCaffe was probably going to be a take-out visit.
We headed to Waterloo to find a rather dark, grimy looking café, with a scooter in the window and, sure enough, a cat. Eclectic objects decorated the room and a various alcohol bottles lined the wall behind the counter. This was a café that was obviously trying for an edgier feel.
In fact, the more I inspected it, the more I realised it should probably be found in Hoxton or Dalston or any other trendy East London location. Through the dirt, I noticed some rather well-to-do, fashion-conscious clientèle. Obviously, this is how they get in touch with the earthier side of life whilst still being comfortably removed from it.
We went downstairs to the basement to find a room so stale and full of dust that even the allergy-free Mia felt suffocated. The air was so thick that it could have been sliced up and served. It did, however, explain why everyone was sitting upstairs.
We approached the counter and ordered two hot chocolates and two egg custard tarts that had been infused with raspberries.
“Excuse me, is there anywhere the cat doesn’t sit?” I asked. “How about those high wooden stools?”
“Huh,” said the woman, clearly confused. “He sits everywhere.”
“Could we get take-out then?”
She gave us the two tarts, then walked out from behind the bar towards the door.
“We’re out of milk. I’m going to buy some more.”
This was not a good sign. A café that serves coffee and hot chocolate and doesn’t keep adequate milk supplies. “How long will that take?”
“Not long. I’m just telling you so you know.” No apology. Nothing. And with that, she was gone.
After ten minutes of me nervously eyeing the cat, she returned and made us some hot chocolates and we scarpered. The service was as neglectful as the place looked.
Through foggy breath, we puffed our way to some cold seats in Waterloo. The hot chocolate – quick! Let it warm my hands and its chocolatey sweetness fill my mouth!
Ugh. Something lukewarm and slimy slid down my throat. It was like custard with a mild chocolate flavour. Mia and I looked at each other in disbelief. People actually recommended this? It was thick and sickly and generally revolting.
We also discovered that raspberries should never be put in egg custard tarts.
ScooterCaffe 1/5 – For shamelessly awful hot chocolate in aspiring squat-like conditions, pop by! 😉
Where: I’m not telling you – look it up if you’re feeling masochistic!
Pheebz Eatz 