Mathilda, SuperWitch (Mathilda's Book of Shadows #1)(67)
Some say The Witches Dozen is run by a bevy of true-life, wand-wielding witches.
They say that the goodies are good because they’re stuffed with magic.
They also say you can buy yourself a love potion there, if you ask the right witch.
I don’t care if it’s white magic, black magic or voodoo, just give me more of it.
The Witches Dozen is worth whatever risk you take when you enter through their broomstick-laden door.
As you walk in, running the length of the left side is a carved, polished-to-a-shine wooden bar connected to a variety of sparkling clean, curved glass display cases filled with mouth-watering selections of sweets and savories. Behind the bar is a big, shiny, red espresso machine flanked by teetering stacks of a vibrant and eclectic collection of coffee mugs, tea cups and saucers, glasses and ice cream dishes. Behind that is a huge mirror etched with a scraggly cat, its back arched and its tail straight up. And above the mirror is a blackboard with stars and moons drawn on in brightly-colored chalk and the flowery, cursive words, “Sit long… talk much… eat hearty” written across it.
Your invitation.
The Witches Dozen has hipper-than-hip décor that mixes rock ‘n’ roll with witchy chic and comes out somehow cool and cozy. You can have a latte and an enormous sugar cookie, iced with a thick layer of soft, melt-in-your-mouth lavender-colored icing that is so beautiful and delicious; you want to spend hours savoring every bite.
And you can. You can stay a minute or most of the day – no one will bother you. In fact, they provide books and games you can read and play if you find you need a diversion or an excuse to stick around. Best of all, instead of opening at 9:00 and closing at 3:00, like most cafés, it opens at 7:00 in the morning, so you can pop round for a warm, homemade blueberry muffin with demerara crumble and an espresso for breakfast before work. Then it closes at 9:00 in the evening so after your tea you can go out and have a big bowl of “Dozen’s Mess” (a take on Eton Mess but with blackberries instead of raspberries, meringues made of brown sugar rather than caster and a thin, ribbon of custard throughout) and a “Paris on the Platte Café Fantasia” (a tall glass layered with hot cocoa and espresso separated by a thin wedge of orange and topped with a piped mound of whipped cream and sugared orange sprinkles – one of the owners’ homage to her favorite coffee house in Denver, Colorado).
The staff is a mish mash. There are old white witches who you fear may not be able to lift that stainless steel beaker full of milk to be steamed. There are also trendy, young lasses whose stylish clothes and high-heeled clattering give you the impression that the cast of Sex and the City have relocated to the West Country. They also make you wonder if London’s fashion elite, in order to get fashion inspiration, may not soon be hanging out on the velvet couches or in the smooth, curved and cushioned wooden booths at the back.
But all the staff work under another American tradition, fine customer service. You always get a smile and a heartfelt “have a nice day” or “y’all come back now”. And they mean it. You’re made to feel comfortable, welcome and that there’s no request you might make that’s too taxing.
I’ve been there many times, the first time Macy Gray was blaring out and everyone, patrons included, were singing out loud and the last time Billie Holiday was plaintively speaking to our souls. You’d think one or the other would be annoying but the whole vibe of the place suggests you go with the flow… and you do. It could be you’re bewitched but why worry?
And the food. A chatty old dame named Nerissa told me the two head cooks/pastry chefs (they both do both) are in a war to see who can make the finest concoction. And the customers benefit greatly from what they call The War of the Wooden Spoons.
If you want delicate flavors and textures, do not go to The Witches Dozen. This is about excess – rich, soulful, comfort food that comes in big (but not overly big) sizes with splashy presentations and bright colors. The “witches” at The Dozen (as it is affectionately known by the regular clientele which, I can say, now includes me) are the gorgeous kind of gals that couldn’t care less about the calories and they’re not embarrassed to ask for seconds and have pudding.
Everything from the furnishings to the music to the staff, to, best of all, the food, indeed says “welcome – sit long, talk much, eat hearty”.
Am I bewitched? Maybe.
Bothered, oh yes, but in a good way.
Bewildered about why it’s so good?
Not at all.
Witches Dozen, No. 13, The Beach, Opening Hours 7:00 to 9:00 All Week Long
Woo hoo! How ‘bout them apples? Especially like what he said about my fashion sense as obviously he’s talking about me (high heels, anyone?).
Dig!
It!
One could say that our Summer Solstice celebration kicked in big time! Ask the gods for success and dance (semi) na**d in the moonlight and then let it happen!
19 July
I am now laying in my princess fortress.
My princess fortress that I built in Ash’s bed.
My princess fortress that I built in Ash’s bed, in Ash’s flat, in London.
I’m trying not to think about where Ash is.
If he’s dead.
Blown to smithereens.
Shot to bits.
Flayed alive.
Or just being tortured.
And Aidan is also MIA but not his usual MIA.