Cafe 404 (Not Found) made me feel like a punk-rocker from the 1970s. It made me feel like an 11 year old living through her emo phase and loving every second of it. And that was before I even walked through the door.
Photo courtesy of Google Maps
It had plants everywhere. Distressed walls, edgy music. It’s name – a pun on the error sign displayed when a news page can’t be found online – made my new goth persona – so oxymoronically – find itself.
So in I swaggered, feeling cooler than cool, ready to flex my proverbial muscles.
I dove straight in and ordered the carrot and rhubarb cake, a towering monstrosity of a bake, with three intense layers which looked parodic next to the delicate cake fork I was provided with.
Somehow however, on my way to the pool, about to dive, I must have tripped on the wet-floor signs warning me about pretentious facades and found myself belly-flopping ungracefully onto a bland and oily surface; far from the refreshing delights of the water.
The carrot cake sponge was unlike any sponge I’ve ever seen. A dense mess of beige and orange, it was begging for variety of texture. The rhubarb frosting meanwhile, tasted oilier than my newly greased mohawk; there was no tartness from a vegetable with such potential.
A Guinness cake proved no better; stodgy and uninterestingly sweet.
It was a crushing blow to my new ego to find both cakes without merit. I had wasted £3.50 on a piece of cake that had made me feel conned and greasy.
My lesson is learnt. I am no punk-rocker, emo or goth, nor am I particularly tempted to revisit a place that prizes atmosphere above food quality. Until I hear of better produce therefore, I shall continue to pass by this cafe until it has eventually found itself.
Just a Taster 