I remember going to my Nana’s house when I was little and being fed tofu ice cream. Bless her knitting needles, she thought it was normal ice cream but the experience traumatised me; I feared every future visit might involve a similar vicious assault on my taste buds and was reluctant to go ever after.
When I stepped in to Grigons and Orr on a rainy Sunday afternoon, my mouth filled with the taste of iced tofu grossness. The little old lady feel of the little old room, mismatched tea cups and eclectic spoons took me back to that tofu trauma, but luckily I was able to promptly rinse down the memory with a tasty 3/4 latte and Tic Toc biscuit from a jar on the counter. Win.
The shelves behind the barista are stocked to the ceiling with spagettios, tea tree oil, Vegemite, baked beans and other random nostalgic tid-bits plucked from kitchens past. This wee time-warped café is crammed with individuality (and people) and its meals are abundantly hearty, like a Granny’s hug.
Seeing Big Boss cigars and Fads among the lollies in the glass-front counter meant the memory of Nana’s dirty dessert was replaced with reminiscing the super cool feeling of fishing Fads from your party bag as a five year old and pretending to smoke (until they removed the little red bit and rendered the Fad a pointless skinny white stick).
From inside this little corner store, I explored the inside corners of my childhood memories and the experience was tofurrific. If you’re over polished concrete floors, utensils as light fittings, communal tables or sitting on crates, tins, tubs and marble-topped wheelie bins… take yourself back several decades to carpeted cosiess of Grigons and Orr.