i’ve known the coffee shrub to be a great brunch and dinner place for a while now and this review comes late. but i’m gonna make up for it. so today, sampaafulhu and i are braving the puddles to get there (first floor at male square). for breakfast!

on the way, sampaafulhu makes a face and goes ‘what’s that?’

‘yves saint laurent,’ i say, a little embarrassed.

‘smells like kuni atha,’ she says.

there’s election material all around, the cloudy sky is half-hidden by rows of pink flags waving in the gentle wind.

‘i’m too panicky,’ i say.

‘why?’ asks sampaafulhu, finally crossing over to male square.

‘well. it’s just, it feels like a huge change,’ i tell her, walking towards the stairs.

‘just get off twitter,’ she says. ‘they’re acting like it’ll turn into afghanistan overnight. there are real threats but it won’t be like that. calm the fuck down.’

we give our orders – she some kind of poached egg, me a mashuni and rihaakuru set with huni roshi – then move into the airconditioned interior.

‘isn’t it nice?’ she says.

‘isn’t what?’ i ask.

‘not smoking. we can sit in the ac bit now.’

‘yeah, isn’t that something?’

the restaurant isn’t busy and our orders arrive quickly. my huni roshi is quartered, freshly baked and flavourful, with little bits of fresh huni giving pops of sweetness. good enough to be a meal on its own.

the thoraa mashuni isn’t bad either. but the real showstopper is the theluli rihaakuru. fish-tasting without being fishy, and beautiful caramelised onions piling on the sweet. my LORD.

‘even if we become a taliban wasteland,’ i gush to sampaafulhu. ‘this meal will be enough to redeem us. a real beacon of hope, a symbol of everything bright and beautiful and worth saving in our home.’

‘got any money for this?’ she responds

‘er…can i pay you tomorrow?’

tsk, she says and pays at the counter while i take in this place with its cheery, nature inspired decor, happy to be in the moment, so very happy.

‘don’t cry in public, please,’ says sampaafulhu.