Real estate agents call it the “Parisian cafe look”, which means the cafe has outside tables. And is snobby.
“My Cafe” nestles in the crutch of Manuka with views of a pedestrian crossing. Which means it’s in a slow spot. So is my coffee order. So it doesn’t matter that it is smooth, flavour ridden, with a good crema; it took longer than three minutes, it doesn’t pass.
I’m not offered water but there is an ashtray. Plenty of pedestrian action, pigeon action, and passing traffic make it prime rubber-necking turf.
“My Cafe” is a favourite of many locals, but the staff aren’t exactly savvy and you may be asleep by the time your coffee arrives.