Words by Sarah Hall

Published on August 1, 2013

Last Friday we launched our second zine, SERVED, and it was a whole lot of fun and thanks to everyone involved. For those who missed out, here’s a sample of the evening right here on the internet.

My boss’s dandruff looks exactly like white quinoa flakes. When I am cleaning the shop in the evenings, I think about vacuuming his scalp. He gets so angry sometimes that he practically cooks the raw chocolate on the counter, and snow falls from his head. But he has a smile that could schmooze the booze off the shelf and into your hemp shopping bag.

It is 11am and I still have not had my ladde fix. People have been coming in all morning on their fixies for ladde fixes but I’m still not fixed. I have two customers. One of them has a large, skinny, hot, decaf vanillaladde and a bag-u-ette. She says that our milk is too expensive, and I tell her that our milk is unhomogenised and unpasteurised and she tells me that milk was homogenised and pasteurised for a reason. She puts one banana in a plastic bag, two chillies in a plastic bag, two carrots in a plastic bag, and puts the three bags into a plastic carry bag that she carries to her car parked right out the front.

My other customer is an activated nut. She has a piccolo with two natural artificial sweeteners. I would like to tell her that this is a café, not an oxymoron store.

‘Is this that water from Italy?’

‘No actually, it’s Australian Spring Water.’

‘Oh. Do you have any water from Europe? I’ve got people coming for dinner.’

She fattened up her baby with a daily teaspoon of coconut oil in its goats milk. Her next child is to be named Spelt.

I see that a packet of Moroccan spiced sultanas has spilled out on the floor. So I reach down to clean up the spilled out sultanas I pop one in my mouth and it tastes a bit fizzy. And then I am sliding on slippery bananas, and I’m feelin real sick now, I’m feelin all dizzy.

My eyes scan to meat — to those red fleshy packs — and I hear a lady say, is it organic? I see goji and chia, agave and flax. They are sending me deeper into a panic.

I hear my boss tell me, you must clean that apron! I think about all of that imported water.  Outside is clear — the air crisp as bacon! But inside the shop there is total disorder!

Then through the haze, someone’s coming toward me. The vision comes clearer — it is a boy. He hands me a glass and at last I’m at ease, for I now have my ladde, my ladde with soy.