Giddy Up, situated in a corner of Islington Green, near Waterstones, is the perfect blend of unassuming grace (a spartan hut with an espresso machine) and coffee know-how (minus the pretentiousness). The place caught my eye after I read it had been recommended by none other than James Murphy, of LCD Soundsystem fame, Purveyor of Good Taste, reader of Thomas Pynchon and William Gaddis.
I travelled a not inconsiderable distance down the Northern line for the privilege of a flat white (price: £2.40).
I had a good conversation with the barista about Things Coffee - the beans (Square Mile), the milk (a whole milk variety, chosen so as to not interfere too heavily with the coffee flavour), and the gear (expensive espresso machine).
The coffee itself was constructed with great care - the grounds measured out to exaction on the scales, the milk layered in to create a beautiful pattern in the crema above the caffeinated fray.
How did it taste? A bitter start followed by a silky smooth finish. It was deep. There might've been some plum involved. The parabola of stimulation, from the initial flush, the moment the caffeine works its toxicological lexicon into your nervous system to the nadir of the trip, where the synovial fluid seems a little more lubricated, the gaps between neurones diminished, to the inevitable bottoming-out, was seamless, the comedown subtle.
I'm not going to draw parallels between coffee drinkers and heroin addicts. But if I were to do that - the love of the impedimenta, the paraphernalia, crucial for a good fix, the silky hit, the velvet stranglehold - I would involve Giddy Up in that parallel. It would be the heroin user's chosen Site of Caffeination. read more