Not a café. A corner.
Smoke off the iron, sugar in the air.
Taiyaki from the mould, bubble waffles folded hot, and shakes that refuse to behave. Built for wandering in with cold hands and leaving warmer.
From the pass
Three moods, one queue.
We rotate toppings like a mixtape—some weeks louder fruit, some weeks darker chocolate. Photos below are from this month’s run.
Doubles
Slow hour
Over the rim
