ADDA Café and the Lost Art of Conversation.

There's an Egyptian word for a place where people gather for conversation - ADDA. That's exactly the vision of this little nook on Upper Clanbrassil St. I've always been enamoured by the coffee cultures that exist within foreign communities. To stroll down South Circular road or parts of Clanbrassil street late in the evening, to see older men of varied Middle Eastern diasporas sitting outside their shops on a dimly lit street, sipping dark espresso or chai, and maybe nibbling on honey cakes - their quiet laughter echoing in my ear. 

I visit ADDA on a sunny June afternoon. The place is beautiful in its humility - from its few tables and chairs- to its wonderfully affordable prices. 

We're served three black coffees, sparkling water, a lemon cake, and a delicious sandwich bursting with crispy breaded chicken pieces, peppers, mustard, and pickles - all a little eccentric which perfectly matches its surroundings. I'm charged €18.50 for the lot. The most affordable feast in Dublin.

It's a straightforward place to eat, but wonderfully atmospheric, while smells of roasted coffee drift out to the front onto its beautiful secluded terrace. A woman out front serves us hot spicy chai and ‘Parle-G’ Indian biscuits. We're enclosed in a haven of roses and wooden benches, with the ghost of Clanbrassil House restaurant in our peripheral vision. 

Our cake is yellow as hell - with all that sweetness and butter - yet doesn't feel overly rich, which makes me think someone has taken great care to balance everything out. 
We sit together and watch as the sun sinks behind the trees and buildings, grateful to feel the Irish summer air kiss our cheeks this evening.

We laugh when we see the price of our bill. It's the first time in a long time we shared a meal for under €20. An excuse to spend some time together, happy for once to be away from the dark rooms of an Irish pub, to just be outside and to enjoy a coffee.