Baggage Claim P.
Google
You know, I’ve always believed breakfast is the most important meal of the day, mostly because I become dangerously emotional without eggs. So naturally I found myself at Revolver Espresso, which, incidentally, looks like what would happen if a Brooklyn loft and a weapons museum had a child who listened to vinyl.
The place is terrific; hip, stylish, intimidating in that way cafés get when the barista has more tattoos than I have confidence.
I ordered the Brekky Burger, which was so fresh and perfect I immediately felt inadequate. I mean, who makes a burger this early in the morning with this much self-esteem? I can’t even fold a fitted sheet.
The Bulletproof Coffee was excellent, rich, smooth, and containing enough butter to start an argument with a cardiologist. One sip and I felt like I could write a novel, or at least apologise convincingly to my therapist.
Then came the tres leches, which is completely untraditional but tastes like the kind of dessert you eat after making a series of poor life decisions. It’s soft, creamy, and vaguely existential. I’m still thinking about it. I may never stop.
Naturally I wandered into the merch store across the lane because nothing signals inner peace like buying a T-shirt you don’t need. They had coffee beans, hats, shirts… I’m considering using the bag as emotional support.
Revolver is, without question, the best breakfast spot in Seminyak.
It’s cool, effortlessly so, like that friend who always looks good even when they swear they "just woke up."
If heaven has a café, this is the prototype.