Slave to the Grind

I’m not particularly intimidated by Stratford’s downtown. When I was a kid, I was intimidated by the whole place, a symptom of my love of theatre and yearning to act and do something perceptively important to my young self. Those weren’t better days. I like my more cynical, less intimidated older self. I’ve never any qualms about calling shenanigans, as you all already know, I’m sure. So when it came to coffee in the city of Stratford, I wasn’t cowed by the possibility that someone somewhere was serious about coffee. Tea on the other hand, now that’s a different story I’ll reserve for later. But coffee, no way. If someone somewhere made a pour over, I’d had thought my meanderings one frigid Wednesday afternoon totally worthwhile. Sure, people talk about restaurants and how great of a culinary experience Stratford offers, but chances are I’ll never really have the cash to spend and know. Anyway, if that is the case- if the newspapers are right- shouldn’t that include coffee? If there’s good coffee, let me know, because when it comes to the brew in the city, I think the point to choosing a good café lies in your preference of which third space. What would you like to be associated with? What matches your pastiche? What gives you a laugh?

 

 Joey and I had it on good authority, after visiting the cherriest of tea drinkers, that Slave to the Grind Espresso Bar was super serious. And we believed it, given the context that the tea drinker provided the tea for the joint, and hers was out of this world. So we went, we meandered, Joey left, came back in with a Styrofoam cup of poutine, meatballs, and spaghetti sauce, and I treated us to a couple of cappuccinos, and one big peanut butter cookie the size of my head. And that was more or less it. Still, I was happy with some fun options: spelt cookies, a strange chocolate concoction called the Full Monty (if memory serves), and considerate gluten free options here and there (if memory serves). But, there are no meals. No sammies, just good old baked petit fours. I’ve never any problem with that. I quite like the idea of a coffee shop that keeps it simple, short, and about coffee. At the Grind, you can get the second wave essentials: anything from an espresso machine and the typical percolated brew. Alas, no pour overs though. But that didn’t draw me away from the place’s charm, the barista’s cute claim that my cappuccino’s foamy white blob wasn’t for lack of technique, but was, in fact, a fat swan. I laughed. It was enough to make me like the place.

Its 60s retro riddled space wasn’t my cup of coffee, but I could understand the appeal of brownfielding the obsolescent things of our American grandparents. A rotary phone on the wall, molecular chandeliers, a fantastic laminate faux wood ceiling. The place cried out for dynamic camera shots of the things. It was fun, it was small, it was a little run down, but cozy enough to offer a place for at least 12 customers to come and sit. Soon there’d be more room. A sign said so.

So, it wasn’t all coffee. Certainly, on a strip that had a lot of others, coffee seemed only a small part. Fun had to be a big part of it. Ironically though, there is the tea, which is definitely worth the trip to the place.

Slave to the Grind Espresso Bar
46 Ontario Street,
Stratford, Ontario
N5A 3G8


 
Mon: 8am- 5pm
Tue-Sat: 8am- 6pm
Sun: 9am- 4pm

   
ANY PAYMENT

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