Out & About #267 | Mulberry Street Coffeehouse + Chocolat on James

​Contrary to popular belief, Hamilton has no shortage of coffee shops. There are several located throughout the downtown area (James from King to Barton is a safe bet), and for those that aren't fond of relinquishing fifty minutes of their precious study time for the round trip, there's always a few cozy options on Locke Street. Actually, come to think it, I should drop by those too.

During my period of absence from the GTHA, Mulberry Street Coffeehouse unassumingly rose to fame. Snapshots of the rustic and slightly retro interior made its way over to my feed easily. When my turn to visit finally arrived, I was no longer surprised at the grandness of the orange statement-making storefront found at James and Mulberry, nor the serenity of the outdoor patio.

​The decor was especially unique in that each section of the cafe emitted a vibe distinct from the rest of the "rooms". Seating located directly across from the cashier comprised of shiny, white tables and minimal amounts of lighting, while another area featured patent leather/wood booths and access to the elements via blinds. We opted for the patio since weather was forgiving, and gladly hurried to the last two-person table with access to a large, looming umbrella. (UV Rays were not kind to the pale-skinned beings such as ourselves.)

Similar to majority of my catch-up sessions, I had once again been entrusted with the dining destination of choice. Mulberry Street Coffeehouse seemed to be a good choice for a few reasons: it was decently close proximity to transit, provided a comfortable environment for chatting, and offered a variety of baked goods/meal options for the gluten- and dairy-sensitive.
The peppy brunette at the cashier assisted us in placing our orders of a Roasted Vegetable Panini and Roasted Bell Pepper Soup Combo, Quiche, and an Iced Matcha Latte. (Interestingly enough, she didn't question me when I requested to take a sniff of their matcha powder. Rather, she simply nodded and acknowledged the fact that the base substance they utilized was indeed a sugar-injected drink mix.)

View the full album HERE !

​Some ten minutes later, the orders emerged from the preparation area and arrived at our wobbly plastic patio table. The Iced Matcha Latte had been crafted separately by the barista, so I actually dove back inside to pick it up and top the cup off with milk before retreating back to my breezy seat. I dismissed the fact that the cup hadn't been filled to the brim, and that it contained far more ice than necessary. The true peeve was the presence of the forest green clumps floating on the surface on the pale green beverage; avoiding this should have been easier than pie! This time, I shall forgo the details of proper matcha-whisking; the drink was an acceptable blend of milkiness and grassiness, though I probably won't be ordering it again for $4.75.

An issue I tend to fear when munching with hangry companions is the high possibility of them being particularly stingy with their dishes. Sharing is, indeed, caring, though it's with great grief that I proclaim: Not many do it. I hadn't been permitted to take more than two shots of the Roasted Vegetable Panini, let along discreetly sneak a bite of the crispy sandwich.
Taking a tiny spoonful of the Roasted Bell Pepper Soup, I immediately sensed eyes like daggers penetrating my soul. I gulped, allowing the sweet fragrance to travel downwards to the pit of my stomach, before slowly backing away to protect my Quiche.

Admittedly, it was better than expected: the perfect consistency is difficult to achieve by blending, yet Mulberry Street Coffeehouse overcame this challenge.
Quite frankly, I'm not too certain about the other ingredients, as I wasn't granted an opportunity to fully experience the remainder of the bowl's contents. (Tsk tsk, you hangry fiend.)

There were two prices listed beside the Quiche option, one at $5.75 and the other at a price point of two dollars higher. I shall assume that the additional charge for pairing the eggy tart with a side salad, which I didn't opt to do.
The triangular yellow specimen arrived plated on a small, white ceramic plate, accompanied by a few bulbs of stuffed green olives. As my dining partner stared in horror at the minuteness of it all, I took to taking a whiff of the omelette-tart hybrid before forking away at the shreds of vegetable embedded between the layers.

The aspect that took me by surprise was that it wasn't even the slightest bit greasy. Rather, the pastry was well-seasoned and largely satisfying (well, for my appetite anyway). It was a savoury dish done right. Cost-wise, however, it could have be a bit more affordable to penniless students such as myself.

​Marching back inside for garbage disposal (and after consistent nagging about returning to campus on time), I peered into the other dining area, where the washrooms were located. It was largely similar to the other side, with the exceptions that it was more spacious, was exposed to greater amounts of natural lighting, and included much more seating.

Washrooms, in the form, of individual stalls would have been easily missed had not signs been hung in front, for the doors had sunk into the frames gently. What awaited me was a tall ceiling, fuscia walls with brick and wood elements, a dazzling chandelier, and a lengthy mirror featuring assymetrical hooks. Never had I seen investments being put towards lavatories in a coffee shop! (My fingers had been crossed that I would find a functioning soap dispenser.) It was, dare I say, even more beautiful than some of the dining spaces.

​Mulberry Street Coffeehouse also retailed monogrammed merchandise, coffee beans, and loose leaf teas - all of which were displayed near the front of the store, along with their daily specials. To my amusement, they also had an alcoholic menu available (probably for brunch?).
With an ultra-soothing environment and tasty goods, the cafe would have easily made the top of my study spots had price and location not been taken into consideration. I couldn't quite justify my purchases, as much as I would have liked to; travel time is another factor to evaluate, as increased time on the HSR means decreased productivity on my part.

Surrounding the coffeehouse were a few commercial buildings, but the main occupants of the area were, in fact, locally-owned and independently operated shops.

Chocolat on James was a particular shop that had caught my attention on the trek towards the cafe. Much like SOMA, it specialized in chocolate, and spanned the space of two shops for the retail of chocolate-dipped soft serve cones, espresso, caramel corn, and chocolate gifts. Tables had also been made available throughout for the immediate enjoyment of acquired items.

Taking a more subtle approach to the Diperie-esque fad, I requested a Vanilla-Chocolate Swirl Soft Serve with Mint Chocolate coating from the lady in the cold treats section. She appeared a tad confused at my questions, though I found clarifying my cone/dip choices to be straightforward enough.

I carefully observed as she shot red beams at the KitchenAid mixers. Chocolate required to be tempered before use such that it would harden at the correct temperature(s), but that was essentially the extent of my knowledge. Being utterly curious though, I casually asserted my slight bit of cocoawareness - pun very much intended -, just to see whether I could absorb more information regarding the complicated process.

​"Were you shooting the laser at the chocolate to check temperature?" I inquired with a smile.
"Yes..." began the hesitation.
"Ah, is there an optimal temperature for chocolate?"
"Yes....but I'm not telling you. It's our trade secret!" she barked at me, eyes emitting sparks while sauntering away.

Alright then. I suppose it's a trade secret I wasn't supposed to ask about.

The cone included one topping from the selection of Reese bits, Skor, chopped nuts, gummies, and other syrupy-looking candies. Fruity options were among them, so I chose the one I hoped to be the least sweet: Biscotti pearls. After proceeding to swiftly sweep into a plastic cone holder, the wrinkly lady handed the pricey creation over in stained white gloves.

Overall, the tri-colour mini spheres added a satisfying crunch. Unfortunately, that is the furthest that my amazement lasted with this cone. The chocolate shell was honestly more reminscent of a solid bar of Purdy's than a mellow touch of sweetness. Not only did this make for a dessert that was difficult to bite into, it also lengthened its consumption time.
By the time I was halfway to the terminal, three quarters of the underlying soft serve swirls had deformed. The remnants of the melting process were contained inside, as well as on the surface of, the plastic holder.

One strong breeze was enough to send sticky droplets flying onto my sleeve and cheek. (And no, it was not fun. Thank goodness for the existence of cleansing wipes.)

​Despite the creaminess of the base soft serve and subtle hints of mint in the chocolate coating, the rest of the cone merely proved to be a challenge to devour gracefully. Suppose I had taken to finishing the cone before making my departure, the results wouldn't have nearly been as dire (nor sticky).

A nearby water dispenser even encouraged customers to refuel on H20 during their stay - this in itself would have eased my cleanup process by miles. Alas, I had chosen the path less taken and suffered the consequences of my actions, including a lack of punctuality for my single afternoon class. Five dollars and twenty-five cents is no easy amount to fork over for a cone, but I can guarantee that it'll be the last time to swipe my card over too-firm ice cream from Chocolat. I think I'll stick to chocolate letters or gift boxes next time.

---