Harmony Coffee

Sparsely decorated with a collection of antique coffee percolators, Harmony Coffee is as quaint as the name suggests. The shop is tiny, seating exactly seven people, though there's nothing intrusive about the service. You can expect a private hour with which to nurse your coffee, conversation free if you so choose, despite the fact that the owner is all but sitting in your lap. For coffee lovers, such intimacy is welcome. You can watch the careful presentation of your chosen poison closely (the weighing out, grinding and balancing of the beans is meticulous), and you even get to choose from a vast selection of chintzy cups. For machine-made drinks, the owner proudly cranks up an old Viva Reneka that looks like it first saw service before Elvis joined the army. The Tanzanian light bodied coffee we chose was an undemanding brew, so delicate that the flavours came like beams of morning light through threaded curtains. A strong taste of vegetation nestled in the aftertaste, a fresh herbiness that made us wish we could give up life in the rat race and become baristas. In all, a great little spot that suffers only from being so far off the beaten track, though that in itself may be a virtue of sorts.