THE CRAPÉ: A BRUTAL YORK CAFÉ REVIEW OR SATIRICAL GENIUS?

Is this a scathing takedown of a truly dreadful café in York, or a masterclass in food review satire? Writer Amelia recounts her visit to the so-called York Café- though after her experience, she’s rebranded it "The Crapé" (a fitting portmanteau of crap and café).

With horror stories of filthy tables, chaotic service, and food that defies the laws of good taste, this review questions whether this café is real, whether it’s genuinely in York (she plants plenty of clues throughout), and, most importantly, whether anyone should risk stepping inside.

Was this an unfortunate brush with culinary catastrophe, or is Amelia delivering a satirical gut punch to overhyped dining spots? Read on and judge for yourself.

By Amelia Wilkinson.

The Crapé

Recently, I have been unfortunate enough to be cruelly subjected to all the latest ‘goss’ about a brand new, 5 star café that has just opened up down my road: York Café. It was the talk of the town- everywhere I went I was plagued by the word ‘coffee’. It was getting rather irritating. So, after a week of procrastination I (reluctantly) decided to take the time out of my precious day to visit this Michelin star phenomenon.

That, I learned, was the biggest mistake of my life.

I found out the hard way that navigating my way to the streets sensation was actually quite an arduous task. I don’t know what I was expecting, really, a grand palace? Maybe something at least halfway as decent as the local Costa Coffee. Well, I can tell you now that this was no Costa Coffee. What awaited me was a run-down shack of a building coated with a plethora of crusted paint flakes peeling down the derelict walls and a hand-me-down ‘open’ sign pathetically plastered on the door.

It should honestly be a federal offence that places like this are enabled to be opened in the first place. There wasn’t even a hint to the world that this place was supposed to be a café. No writing. No notice. No nothing. This place was supposed to be new, wasn’t it? Nonetheless, I begrudgingly decided to step inside the nightmare café.

Not even three months of pure torture could have prepared me for the horrors I saw when I entered that building.

Chaos everywhere. Screaming children. Food splattered floors. You name it; they had it. I genuinely started questioning if I had accidentally stumbled into a zoo. The tables were enshrouded in complete filth- to the point where I wondered how it was humanly possible for them to get that dirty. To be honest with you, I doubt they have had a proper cleaning since opening (so make sure to stay stocked up on hand sanitiser if you do decide to ignore my pleas and visit anyway!).

I was utterly and thoroughly disgusted, but I couldn’t turn away now. I’ll stain my integrity and be the martyr, the sacrificial lamb, to forewarn the public about the slaughterhouse café that made hell look like Disneyland.

After I was (finally) seated, I decided to spend the next half an hour scrutinising the menu. I knew that with the poor staffing I would not be getting served any faster anyway, and my suspicions were confirmed when I had to call a waitress over for myself after 37 long and painful minutes. It seemed as if they had forgotten about me completely- preposterous! The menu was rudimentary at best, and I could not find any delectable food worthy of satisfying my tastebuds. Eventually, I had to settle on a waffle and a cup of coffee. Boring, I must admit, but impossible to mess up, right?

Wrong.

I am unsure whether you can even call the monstrosity I put in my mouth 'food'. Anyone who would call that processed junk a meal is a brainwashed, zombified idiot who must have been chowing down on cat faeces for their entire sad life. I was speechless, struck even, that this was actually recommended to me by the masses. I had to have misheard.

I promise you, I beg you, not to waste your hard-earned pennies on this garbage. The opening of this hellhole should not have been a celebration but a declaration of a national state of emergency.

I physically cannot fathom how a place like this gets business. It wasn’t even good value! And most of all, I am severely disappointed in York’s food industry for creating a meal so horrid it brings shame to the entire town.

So everyone- hide your children, your loved ones, and your pets from the ominous force that is the café down York High Street. Visiting is well and truly purgatory. With under-qualified, rude staff, facilities well below par, and food so terrible you will be left vomiting your guts out for the next three weeks on end, DO NOT risk your physical and mental well-being to try this place out. 

I promise you, just go to the Starbucks around the corner- it’s a thousand times better, and honestly, not even that much more expensive. 

'York Crapé': where hopes and dreams of dining out are crushed.

0/5 stars. Seriously, save yourself the trouble (please.)

By Amelia Wilkinson.