Pagoto

«What’s it called?» I asked…
«Bogota» I thought I heard.
«Bogoda?» I asked again
«Bagoto!» I thought I heard the second time
«B A G O…»
«No P A G O»
«Ahhh Pagoda! Like those Japanese temple thingys?»
«Yeah but with a T, so no»
I’ll admit, I’d had a few by this stage so I was slur spelling.
Pagoto has the very familiar two rows of gigantic tubs of gelato that exists at every good gelatician (I’m sure I just made that up but whatevs). Tubs of delectably designed decadent creamery that is impossible to resist — though I did manage to just get one scoop as flashbacks to the spin bike and how many revolutions each scoop is worth sizzled my senses.
Watermelon and Feta… I spied this and my buddy told me to get a taste. How can I describe it? You know that face you pull when you first bite into a grapefruit? Got it? Ok… there you go.
I finally settled on a burnt caramel crisp which was damn fine I might add. This is really great gelato, and there’s clearly a lot of passion behind this place, with murals adorning the outside walls, whilst the interior is classy and suits the bizzo.
Loved it, could be back… if I ever return to Oz.