#coffeemelbourne

Kines Coffee: 11 Hope St, Brunswick Photo cred: Broadsheet

Welcome to Kines. One of the newest ultra hip coffee spots to grace 3056. In their short lifespan they’ve already achieved a meek Broadsheet write-up and their Instagram has ticked over a thousand followers - but Kines you have filled the beast with rage and she’s gotta let it out.

Funnily enough my mate told me to drop in here for their plant game - of all things - which she described as “lit” (need I mention my mate is defo at the tail end of gen Y whereas I’m still trying to make “fetch” a thing). I get around the traps in Brunswick and am always keen-as-a-bean to check out some hanging Devil’s Ivy or a standing succulent wall to help balance out my sharkra whilst I’m sipping on caffeine. However Kines, your plant game sucks. My grandma has a better selection and she’s a 90 year old Nanna who grew up in arid Malta during the war. And you know what else sucks? Your pitiful patriarchy party, it’s stinking out the whole block.

I checked in on a week day because hospo lyfe, and as fate had it was confronted with a smoke storm. The open kitchen has poor ventilation you see, which means that the place smokes up. It’s obvious however that the owners have designed it this way so that the townsfolk are forced to watch the staff’s performance of prepping and cooking food in their makeshift stainless steel kitchen; to be honest though, the whole spectacle was pretty gross.

I was greeted and seated by a tall skinny dude in a black t-shirt who was utterly and genuinely unenthused by my presence and with life in general. I felt like giving him a hug and a soft knock on the chin and saying “Cheer up Charlie”. Coffee orders were taken and I got to sit back and survey. The fit out is what us gays call “masc”. Dark blue and grey walls, dark wooden furniture, grungy warehouse vibes all round with eerie jam jars to hold spices and herbs - some dexter shit going on right there. I felt like I had stepped into my one and only ex-boyfriend’s bedroom. He was a semi-famous basketball player with huge muscles and a tiny dick. Kines, do you guys know each other?

There were two lady babes working hard on prep (remind me again why it’s a good idea to show customers how you portion noodles into plastic containers?) Cowboy, however, stole the show - he was tall and presumably an owner (or maybe it’s just his larger than life bravado). This dude was prepping along with the ladies with a cowboy hat straight out of a 1950′s western, and I mean that in the sense that it looked ancient and icky. Whilst these three worked tirelessly, one only had to pan their vision to the left to witness the douchiness coming from Skinny and Curls.

These two dude-bro male baristas were standing off to the side doing absolutely nothing. 

Skinny came over to take my order and had to ask for clarification as I slowed my speech and said plainly “The, soba, noodles, please”. He finally got it and off he went. After putting my order through Skinny strolled back to the La Marzocco. The cafe was quiet and Curls was hanging by the EK grinder. Skinny picked up his coffee and took a sip - the dudes exchanged a few words, a laugh, then Skinny noticed me staring. He took a few steps into the front corner of the bar and stood there for a while whilst Curls did a lap of the floor and came back empty handed. This time Skinny went to play with the EK. No coffee was run through, he just kinda touched it a bit, gave it a loving little tap and then chatted with Curls some more. Every now and then they would start on a remedial task, put some glasses away, stroke the grinder, but basically these dudes were hiding, from their fellow staff members and from the public - they were doing sweet jack all and Cowboy, who I’m going to be presumptuous and guess was running the show (hey, Patriarchy), let them get away with it. Even though you are working hard Clint Eastwood, doesn’t mean you’re not complicit in this diabolical douche-storm.

I’m not going to go into the grottiness of watching Cowboy stir up my noodles with his bare hands then pulling out a long hair from my meal after it arrived. This is a coffee blog Alex, stay focussed.

Kines - you’re just another example of an over-masculine, douche-heavy and pretty gross cafe striving for Brunswickian grunge glory. If I worked on Moreland City Council I would send my health inspectors over your way pronto but alas the closest I get to council these days is watching meetings in bed on my laptop whilst eating liquorish and crying over public toilets. It’s a glamorous life. 

I wish I could say this place had some redeeming features, but it didn’t. It was my ex-boyfriend’s bedroom - a nice sound system, a dark blue Ikea colour scheme and a whole lot of promise with very little reward.