A perfect milkshake

There’s something beautiful about finding something you have been longing for – and the long search is over.

Java and I have a love-hate relationship. It used to lean more to love – back when they would let me sit and wait for my friends with nothing but a glass of water in front of me; when the burgers were huge and juicy and the waitresses at the one in Mama Ngina actually smiled.

Then they opened one too many shops, stopped caring about customer service, increased the food and started serving mediocre food.

The menu changed too – I suppose you have to change with the times – as did the service. Consistency dropped to dismal level. I. e., don’t go to the Javas in town if you’re hungry because the portions are smaller. Don’t go to the Java at Yaya because it has no WiFi (of all the places in all the world…). Don’t forget that the one at the airport adds 200 bob to everything. They became arrogant.

Comfortable.

So I stopped going there and found new haunts.

But no one does a milkshake like Java. I still venture into its dark halls, but only for their glorious milkshakes, which, aside from Dormans (the old one that used to be where ColdStone is – I haven’t tried anything but the MAHvellous iced cappucino/tea ¬†at the new one), is one of the only places that does it right. They always have, even before they change their recipe. After, it just became that much better.

This one is one of my favourite – a vanilla chocolate milkshake.

Slurp.

Ok, Java. I’ll keep coming back. But let’s see how long that lasts.

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