I have recently become a regular attendee of what we like to call “Olympia Sundays”. Usually, well more often than not, we make it in time to eat breakfast. Yesterday we made it in time for lunch.
For those poor souls who have no idea what I’m talking about, Olympia Cafe is a Bakery/Cafe/Place to sit and watch people in Kalk Bay in Cape town. It gives you the feeling that you have walked into an old time haze, it is addictive. The smell of the coffee and the warm fresh bread baking in the conundrum of a kitchen stashed somewhere in the back.
It’s that smell that makes you miss someone you don’t even know. Add to that two glasses of their house wine and you are set for deposit in the memory bank.
If one plans to attend an “Olympia Sunday”, one should plan on making a day of it. The small space gets snug at best and for a half hour at least it becomes simply incommodious, that makes the service a tad slow, but what’s the rush right? It is Sunday after all.
The food, charming, enchanting, ambrosial even. And then I haven’t even gotten to the bread. Just the bread alone is cause to celebrate. Who ever thought that bread could make anyone so happy, the faint smell of almonds and vanilla seems to stick to your hands, and even with the deepest breath you can’t breathe in deeply enough to satisfy your greed.
Plates of olive oil and balsamic vinegar are shared by friends, ponds of pure yum. My one friend actually commented that this bread could very possibly be better than sex, I think she might very possibly be right.
As if the day could not get any better, it ended on the beach, with the last light of the day whispering away over the horizon. Tanned warm bodies lying in the sand, laughing and pouring over the day and the food and the excellent beach bat tournament played. I love Cape Town!
f l i c k e r y 