The Big Black Brew

Death Valley’s Little Brother, or DVLB for short, is a gastronomer’s analytical dream. Gastronomer, not restaurant reviewer. You all know, I consider myself the latter. Sure, I relay to you luxurious readers how things taste, but I like to put culture a good step before any tasty meal. Why, out of all the third spaces in town- coffee shops, I mean- is DVLB a place worth visiting? What does it mean for its patrons? A myriad of sophistications.

Does it have a niche?

believe it.

Is it a business monopoly?

Perhaps.

A charmed kind of coffee circle?

Most definitely.

You need only see how the space operates and, of course, how it brews. I can confidently say it is the first place in town to offer the pour over: the cherriest of coffee brews. Yes, it is, as an old master told me weeks ago in a basement bar, a space capturing an authentic past, a sure fire sign of cosmopolitanism, paradoxically. It gregariously pays homage to its Kitchener Waterloo heritage. Once a livery yard, once a private men’s club, once a speak easy, now a dark, mysterious coffee shop. The operation is tongue in cheek, and for that reason, I respect it. It has hours of operation it doesn’t follow, a sign without a name, a light above its front door that glows red when it decides to open for the most devout coffee drinkers, and an infograph for those who want to actually have a good glass of whiskey to level out any polemic coffee gives them. Its lofty appearance, iron chairs, hanging chandeliers, clinical tea jars and jolly roger espresso cups, may make it seem like a preemptive declaration of trendiness, but DVLB playfully demarcates itself from all that jazz, for behind all its smoke and mascots, it maintains its admirable, most patriotic quality: great coffee. And even greater whiskey, I imagine.

And I’ve no complaints with the fare they sell: Scottish pies, pasties, and pastries. It may seem odd to have a 15 dollar expatriated anti-pasto dish on a very small menu, but I can’t find any argument with something savoury in a place that sells liquor. Bocconcini and truffle oil don’t blend well with scotch anyway- so I overheard. And yes, it all seems a little pricey; 3.50 oolong tea, 6.00 crème brulee; but I am merely giving what little bad news there is first. There are reasonably priced confections and I cannot now, nor ever complain about the price of the black brew. Sure, it’s negligibly more for a cup of coffee at DVLB, but I think once you have it, it’ll be hard to go anywhere else. Be forewarned.

My favourite part? That espressos and americanos share the same price point. Thank you, DVLB. And if that’s not enough, how about a tart espresso with a deep, roasted quality, more deep and nutty than tannic and brassy. Combine that with a stick to your rib crema that stays around even after you let it settle. An elixir so slick, oily, and smooth you’d consider using it for petrol if its finish wasn’t so savoury and worthwhile.
My pour-over was a more gentle, tempered story, so much so you’d never know it had more caffeine than its tiny espresso counterpart. It conveyed a piney, apparitional aroma. Sipping its bright, fruity surface, you’d never think it was coffee, what with the over roasted Americanized ashy brew we’ve come to know as Western drinkers. Each pearl of oil was like a star, swirling around its surface, forming a galaxy and a coffee that would take anyone out of this world. It warranted mindful drinking, especially hot, otherwise losing all the qualities mentioned in lieu of a tannic underpinning if left to cool. Is there a life lesson here? Enjoy the warmer aspects of our friendships, lest we lose sight of all others good qualities and have them turn cold and bitter. Deep.

But I digress.

There’s much more to discuss, like the lavender and blueberry crème brulee: a manifestation of pure luxury. A ribbony blueberry sauce lying beneath a creamy surface of saturated lavender custard emblazoned by a caramelized glass of sugar. An earthy aftertaste quenched an otherwise decadent dessert, giving a new level to its crème brulee element. Dazzling.

My lemon tart looked a little dry and gelatinous, but its firm foundation balanced well with its junket of bright lemon custard. Its puckering acidic vista leveled its overbearing sweetness, and its crisp butter bottom gave it texture and shape in the mouth, much more individual than the glutinous lemon squares I’ve been a proponent of for so long.

Lastly, my zucchini muffin, something a passionate customer swore by, was heated to a ripening crispness that left it crackling and a pleasure to chew. Though a bit dry, I couldn’t argue with its warm character, supported by its comforting treacle qualities of sugar and spice. Nothing too out of the ordinary, but it was only a muffin after all.

I’ve left out other options, like cappuccinos and lattes, but all the more reason to go and check it out for yourselves, assuming you still fear the big black brew on its own. Don’t worry, they won’t judge you, in fact they’ll offer a little cream and after that a little whiskey to calm you down.

Death Valley's Little Brother

84 King Street North
Waterloo, ON
N2J 2X4

519-208-6211

Corner of Bridgeport and King N.
(across from the Failte Irish Pub)

“We're open most days about 8 or 9, occasionally as early as 7,
but some days as late as 12 or 1.

We're closed about 7 or 8, and occasionally on weekends at 11.

Some days or afternoons we aren't here at all, and lately we're here
all the time except when we're someplace else ;)”

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