my friend caramel suttaa proposes that we check out this bingsu place in villingili, called the secret cafe, and as we are already there (that is, in villingili) it makes perfect sense for us to do so. i’ve never had bingsu to be honest but i am always game for new things, especially if they are cold and sweet, like samfa. she has a cold demeanour if you must know, but underneath the ice is an ocean of treacle.

the vibes are off from the get go, it seems like a karaoke bar offering hedhikaa that also does bingsu on the side. no one who treats ice cream like a side chick is going to do a good job of it. but i have been wrong judging by appearances so i decide to go ahead and order a chocolate bingsu. caramel suttaa gets a berry bingsu and some chicken pastries.

‘i saw this place on @hapsmv,’ says caramel at our table. we’re sitting next to some raucous people. the space itself is a hotaa-like setting, definitely not a cafe.

‘it looked really good,’ he continues. ‘i think we may be surprised.’

but he sounds more hopeful than certain.

‘did you watch the game?’ i ask him.

‘the game?’ he seems a bit baffled.

‘you know, the world cup final,’ i say.

‘oh, the world cup. no i didn’t,’ he says.

it’s refreshing when you have friends who don’t follow the beautiful game. arhentina lost and deservedly so. messi was non existent on the pitch for the most part, and at forty that’s what’s expected of footballers. anyway, i won’t pretend to know much about the sport, i want to know more about my bingsu, when is it coming to the table for example.

and it arrives in a dimpled metal martini glass along with caramel’s burger and chicken pastries.

‘woah,’ says caramel suttaa. ‘i like the glass. it looks fancy’

but the bingsu is anything but. to be fair i have never had it before but i am certain it’s not meant to taste like this.

‘what DOES it taste like?’ asks my inquisitive friend.

‘ah, the chocolate tastes like the filling in really cheap biscuits. just awful. it’s like a disgusting mix of milk powder and this stupid chocolate.’

‘oh,’ he says. ‘i bit into my chicken puff and nearly broke my tooth because the chicken was hard af.’

but the good thing about suttaa is that he doesn’t waste anything, no matter how horrible, a very patient and kindly soul, suttaa. of course, i send my bingsu away.

my friend’s blueberry bingsu arrives, and he has a bite. his face crumples a little.

‘it’s no good,’ he says but he eats all of it, going so far as to tilt the glass to get the very last bites.

‘i can’t believe you finished it,’ i tell him and he smiles.

‘no point wasting things.’

our bill is almost 300MVR.

‘you can fool us once with a sexy ad,’ i say as we make our way to the ferry terminal. ‘but we should’ve known better, it’s not the cafe’s fault. this place is a hotaa, of COURSE they wouldn’t have great bingsu.’

‘you have some chocolate sauce,’ says caramel suttaa tapping on his front teeth.