As an Australian, ordering a flat white overseas is always a leap of faith. More often than not, expectations exceed reality. But every now and then, the search for good coffee leads to an unexpected discovery.
My travels took me to the sleepy fishing town of Shimoda on Japan’s beautiful Izu Peninsula.
Shimoda occupies a special place in Japanese history. In 1854, Commodore Matthew Perry sailed his famous Black Ships into the harbour, opening Japan to the West after centuries of isolation. Today, visitors strolling through the town still catch glimpses of old Japan. Traditional wooden buildings line narrow streets, classic gas lamps illuminate the footpaths, and the pace of life seems wonderfully unchanged.
It was here that I discovered the aptly named Black Ship Café, a quirky little coffee shop honouring Perry’s famous fleet.
As someone who takes coffee perhaps a little too seriously, I walked in hoping for my customary double-shot flat white.
My confidence quickly evaporated.
The cheerful but unapologetic barista explained that every coffee was served in paper cups. There was no mention of ceramic mugs, and no reassurance that a double-shot flat white would resemble anything served in Sydney or Melbourne.
The café itself was as quirky as its name. Customers ordered downstairs before climbing a narrow staircase to a tiny upstairs room containing only a handful of tables. There were no windows. The aroma of freshly ground coffee drifted upstairs as rain drummed steadily on the roof, giving the little room all the charm of an old country railway station waiting room.
Outside, torrential rain lashed the streets. With nowhere else to shelter, I became an involuntary prisoner of the Black Ship Café.
Then something unexpected happened.
The coffee arrived.
I took a cautious first sip.
It was magnificent.
Rich, velvety and beautifully balanced, with just the right strength, it was the finest double-shot flat white I had tasted anywhere in Japan. Suddenly the paper cup, the tiny upstairs room and the torrential rain no longer mattered.
As I finished the last drop, I couldn’t help but smile. Commodore Perry may have introduced Japan to the West more than 170 years ago, but on this rainy morning the Black Ship Café had quietly reminded me that some of the finest travel discoveries are found where we least expect them.
Sometimes the best coffee isn’t found in Melbourne, Sydney, or Tokyo. Sometimes, it’s waiting in a tiny upstairs room, served in a paper cup, in a sleepy fishing town called Shimoda.
