West with the Best

This summer was a summer of relationships. My friendships deepened so much that every goodbye felt like a knife to the heart and every time I wiped away my tears and said “You’re ok,” a thin Band-Aid (that would soon fall off) came up over the wound. I hate goodbyes. Goodbyes are a thing of the devil but this summer was particularly hard as I headed off to a new school, a new year, a new state, and new cafes (ok that part is pretty nice). Let me first take you back to June. I finally saw the West Coast (men). What a lovely place to be and dwell (and date) -- gosh it was a trip that flew by yet I can’t seem to get it off the tip of my tongue. Here is a log of my time out West based on not the sights or the cities, but the coffee.

In the air:

            After the words “The decaf is instant,” I found myself being poured a cup of regular coffee at 9 pm. It was weak and burnt and tasted like what I imagine death to taste like or the underside of a rock, either one. Nevertheless I was headed to the West Coast and paid for my plane ticket so I was going to have that “free” beverage and straight up enjoy it.

Portland:

I had the jitters for most of my trip to Portland, mainly because of the over consumption of coffee, but also because there was a small (large) part of me that truly believed that I was going to have a bicycle related death while roaming the city. I forced my two West Coast traveling buds to hit up Coava while in Portland. Other than a rather sketchy car rental company, it was our first stop. I spent most of the time there staring at the general area that Fr

ed Armisen and Jerry Seinfeld sat when they stopped by there on Comedians in Cars Getting Coffee, although their table was missing. Of course I know it didn’t matter that I couldn’t physically sit in the two seats that they did, and it’s not like I was planning on doing that for the last three months. . . (flips over a table). The hipster wait time was about 10 minutes and the baristas were pleasant and laid back, much like everyone I encountered in Portland. I got drip coffee in a mug so heavy it sent my hand straight to hell (like a good mug should).

The cafe was constantly filling and draining of small clumps of people who are starting trends or at least attempting to. There were qualities of Brooklyn that I somehow felt at Coava, but the overall ambiance was still very much its own. With a bamboo shop in the back and man buns everywhere, the place was as smooth and tasty as the coffee. I snagged a bag of their delicious beans before heading out, because nothing tastes better than coffee that’s been stuffed into a suitcase for a week.

Seattle:

            See ya later – I’m moving to Seattle where the city is fine and the mountains on the horizon are even finer. It’s the reason New York and I are currently fighting. The low humidity was reason enough to make me lease an apartment and stay forever. (Please note that I am usually a mere five on the scale of all things shallow, aka the scale of attraction, aka the scale created by men, however, with the West Coast’s low humidity, my curls and I become a generous five and a half). My five-and-a-half-self strutted into The Oddfellows Café after a great night in Seattle, consisting of Mexican food on a dimly lit rooftop and cocktails at a speakeasy whose secret door was only opened by the press of a doorbell. (I would like to take this time to formally apologize to that speakeasy for the ding-dong ditch we performed that same evening). So needless to say at this point my five-and-a-half looking self was on cloud nine, not to be confused with looking like a nine because I was still generously applying makeup to pass as what I felt was a six.

With a large airy space filled with big windows, an open kitchen and large oak tables, this café felt like the screened-in breakfast nook of your dreams. My friends and I tiptoed to the back of the café where we snagged a table outside in the four table sized alley with lights up above and plants as well as paintings scaling the brick walls. I squealed countless times in delight only stopping when our waitress popped up behind us. Thus beginning the coffee. I branched out as I often do on vacation and got a cappuccino. Maybe it was because the roasted bean color of the mug complimented my nails, or because the cappuccino actually was life changing, but listen up people, this cappuccino had me reaching nirvana. After about two hours curled up at our small table we hit the road mainly to get fish thrown over our heads. CAUTION: Fishes will sometimes be thrown too low and hit you in the head (wipes fish off my own hair). I’m still having dreams about The Oddfellow Café and ya’ll should be too because its ambiance is, dare I say, the best I’ve ever experienced.

Somewhere along the Oregon Coast: Espress(o) yo self with an Espresso Hut, east coast. It’s a drive through hut that has more promise to make me happy than any man ever will and for that reason the east coast has got to get a hold of one of these ASAP. I had a chai that was so good I nearly died. Thanks hut, for helping three girls with a mid-day sugar rut.

Bend: Bend felt like the city in “The Truman Show” and I’m still slightly convinced that it is. Everyone was attractive, almost a little too nice and somewhat doing well. It could be because if you didn’t want Starbucks or Dunkin which were right there, then you could go to any of the 4,254,689 little mom and pop coffee shops that were around town and if you really didn’t want that, today you could stop at a nearby espresso hut or by simply getting caffeine injected straight into your veins on the street corner down by the park. (The latter is of course a joke but if there is a thriving market for that, someone please let me know).

            Needless to say it was an amazing trip out west. Thanks for the memories, West, keep a mug of coffee waiting cause I’ll certainly be back. 

Blue Bottle Coffee: Brooklyn, NY

               Blue Bottle Coffee. Was I disappointed my coffee didn't come in a blue bottle? Maybe a little if I'm being honest but after my first sip of the dear-God-how-is-this-heaven-legal-to-sell coffee, all those thoughts were gone. But I’m a bit ahead of myself. Let me start at the beginning of my day.

It was a Sunday, so Brooklyn was a bit sleepy. At 2 o'clock families and hipsters, which are seemingly interchangeable, began their day or so it seemed. My party of four grabbed a table at Juliette on North 5th Street. We happened to be surrounded by French natives, although we enjoyed this, by the end of the meal we felt rather ashamed at knowing only one language. Unless you count knowing how to say "I cry and drink wine" in French then I do admit I am only fluent in English. So off we went to get a cup of coffee, American coffee that would or would not come in a blue bottle. Two steps, a skip and a hop around the corner and we were there. No flashy sign to be seen, just a simple chalkboard out front causally hinting that something life changing is right inside. 

             Blue Bottle Coffee is one for the books. It started out in California but I found its delight right here on Berry Street. It has expanded in the last ten years to cover multiple cities on the west and east coasts and somehow I swear I can taste that growth, success, and community right there in the coffee. There was a bit of a line as we entered but it moved at a slow-down-you're-in-Brooklyn-now-not-Manhattan pace. As the line died down and I was getting closer and closer to the barista, I began to panic. Who did I think I was walking into the infamous Blue Bottle Coffee and assuming I knew how to order? I didn't. I was a deer in the headlights who was trying to focus but there were too many attractive Brooklyn men around, too many little hipster children dressed better than I. I tried desperately to push my brother ahead of me in line but Clark is nearly 6'6” and the shove would not have been discrete. I considered crying, a logical option. Walking up to them and just crying. Crying until they assumed I needed a drip coffee, or maybe the cure was a mocha, or a flat white. Who knows? Not me, that's for sure. Although at this point I had thought through several grand ideas, I settled for the act-normal-confident-and-order-the-first-thing-your-eyes-fall-on attempt. This attempt brought about me ordering a mocha. And just like that, the stress was gone. I could again take in my surroundings and think about if we would be so lucky as to find a spot to sit with their two long tables surrounded by stools. As I waited for my mocha and Clark waited for his cappuccino, we observed the openness of the back room. We saw the shelves of coffee sitting in their warehouse. Only a simple half wall between us and all the coffee our hearts could desire. We pondered the thought of jumping over the half wall but my legs are rather short. (This was the only reason we did not do such a thing.)

                They are open from 7am to 7pm everyday (open until 8pm Saturday because falling asleep at a bar isn't as high class and safe as it sounds) so there really isn't a reason why you can't swing by and grab a cup of coffee, and since there are seven locations in New York City alone I really see no excuses that are relevant at this point. The price of Starbucks but with actual freshness and taste. I'll pay for that. Maybe it was the mocha going to my head or the crowded tables, line out the door, but I like when my coffee is an event. I felt as though I had been awarded a Golden Globe. Getting in line was like being nominated and then there I was accepting, being quickly cut off by the next person in line as I tried to give my acceptance speech. And I'm gonna go out on a limb here and say there is a large chance getting and enjoying a cup of Blue Bottle Coffee will in fact feel just as good as accepting a Golden Globe. And the nominees are...

Toby's Estate Coffee: Brooklyn, New York

Maybe I was attracted to Toby’s Estate Coffee because it was on the way back from lunch at House of Small Wonders, or maybe it was the graffiti on a nearby wall that would make for the perfect Instagram photo, or maybe, just maybe, it was the two men outside objectively talking about the size of their girlfriends’ breasts . . . well, maybe it wasn't the latter, but whatever it was, I was attracted to the coffee shop non the less.  After having a pull vs push issue with the door (it’s push) my brother, Clark and I were inside.  Two floor to ceiling bookshelves lined the side walls and raw wood tables and stools cluttered with people filled the large room. We apparently walked up the small ramp to the counter but it felt a bit more like floating. I could tell by the baristas' overall appearances that we would be the best of friends if it weren't for the fact that my wandering eyes and active photo taking screamed that I was in fact not a Brooklynite (not yet anyway). Although I will admit I complimented one of the barista’s glasses so therefore we are slowly building a beautiful and lifelong friendship.

           Clark ordered biscotti that he raved about and hung in front of my gluten free face. It came on an adorable flowery china plate which I would have had the notion to steal if I weren't such a moral and sensible person. Right behind the counter was the room Toby’s Estate Coffee uses for their public cuppings and private classes. Although I was not able to do a class when I stopped by, just the sight of it made me want to happy cry, but I’m all talk when it comes to public scenes so instead I collected my cup of coffee and headed to a table. Clark and I sat facing the large garage looking windows covering the front wall of the coffee shop. We were nestled in at the same table as a woman on her laptop being that there were no open spots. The whole café was filled with the hippest hipsters of Brooklyn. There were so many well-dressed men and women in one room that I had multiple heart palpitations through the course of my stay there. It almost felt as though the room was being lit by laptop screens. I may have witnessed fifty award winning screenplays being written but I just simply can’t confirm (until I see how mine turns out). 

Being that all the coffee is brewed right there in their Brooklyn location, every cup is quality. The roast I tried was right in the middle thus making it perfect. If you’re in Williamsburg, living in Williamsburg, or have a lover in Williamsburg, you’d be foolish not to grab a (daily) cup from Toby’s Estate Coffee on North 6^th Street, one block from the Bedford L stop. But fear not Manhattan dwellers there is also another location in the Flatiron district for all of you. Open Monday through Friday 7 to 7 and Saturday and Sunday from 8 to 8 it’s the perfect place to nurse a coffee before work, to write a screenplay, find a boyfriend (I found a few…hundred) or just a nook to people watch from. Drink up, Brooklyn.

Blue State Coffee: New Haven, CT

            Did the coffee taste better because it was on Yale University’s campus? Yes, yes it did and I won’t let anyone convince me otherwise. But with that being said, the coffee was well above par, as were their lattes that came holding a newly created masterpiece right there in the foam. 

            With two Blue State Coffee locations nestled on either side of the campus, Yale students have the perfect study rooms. Although it was Yale’s spring break, the café was still jam packed with local coffee addicts, granola-eating-anti-bathing ex-peace core members, and the occasional Dr-to-be, I'd-save-your-life-Sophie-but-I-know-you-don't-actually-need-CPR Yale student. My group and I slid right in with the other wallflowers perfectly. So much so that I found myself quickly morphing into the Yale student world. I began talking to my friends as if I attended the school. "Yes, well if you turn left out of here you're gonna be on Yale's campus. It's just simply beautiful and if you take a right out of here believe it or not you're gonna be right there on Yale's campus. There are buildings, and other buildings all of which are Yale. Those brick and stone things, Yale. Beautiful, I know." Adapting into unknown cultures is kind of a gift of mine. 

        With a part of their profit going to charity and their mission overall rather “green,” do you really need another reason to stop by Blue State Coffee? If so, I’d say the boy at the window is personally enough of one for me. Or possibly the twenty-one year old girl with brown curly hair sitting with a few of her friends waiting for the perfect Yale boy to come in, swoop her into his arms and carry her into the sunset whispering “I’ll pay off your college debt.” But then again, I guess I'm just a hopeless romantic.

        With locations ranging from Yale’s campus to Rhode Island to Boston, you've got to be here on the East Coast to grab a sip of this heavenly delight in one of their shops.  Luckily you can still have their coffee at home by ordering it off their website. Please note that the beautifully perfected foam masterpieces are not included with the online models. Nor are the attractive male baristas. You wouldn't want to miss out on a chance to embarrass yourself like I do everywhere I go. So why not make the trip to go to the cafe in person. Maybe I dropped most/all of the change from my change purse on to the counter  when paying. Maybe I couldn't find where the milk was for the coffee and wandered around like a lost (21 year old) child until someone else with coffee led me to the source. Maybe.

         With sandwiches, lattes, coffees, and teas, there really isn't anything else you’ll need while studying, reading, or catching up with friends. After the coffee reached all the darkest parts of my soul which is indeed hard to do, it was time to say goodbye. With most shops open around 7 am and closing around midnight, you simply have no excuse to pass by this place. With a polished look, inspirational quotes written on every large open surface and enough tables to satisfy even the most stressful of midterm seasons, it’s a great coffee rest stop.  It was a pleasure mixing into the Yale students’ world if only for an hour or two. Will I randomly be hanging out on Yale’s campus even though I don’t go there, Blue State Coffee in hand? Yes, how else does one meet their soul mate? Give to charity, help local farmers, and get energized for the day all by simply making your morning cup a Blue State one. 

Piccolo Cafe: New York, New York

              It’s not all commercial coffee for Midtown West here in NYC.  Settled on West 40^th Street between illuminated metal buildings and the sounds of a 9 to 5 work day, Piccolo Café leaves you with a different taste in your mouth. Having won the 2011 Craved Award by Seamless for Best just-like-mom’s food, you can be assured that the commercial atmosphere of Midtown West stops on the street. The exterior, a seemingly hand crafted wood appeal leaves you wanting to see more. Although there isn't much more to see as you walk into the tiny café you find yourself just as satisfied. Six seats in total, I was overjoyed as I snagged one for myself. Although their drinks and food options were endless, I stuck to a small coffee needing an extra kick to keep me up to speed with my NYC surroundings. The man behind me, who looked dashing in his business attire, seemed to be just off the work day, settling down for a unique “just-like-mom’s food” dish from Piccolo. I promptly noticed his wedding ring and thought to keep to myself, also my lack of self-confidence may have helped in this matter but we will keep the blame on the wedding ring.     

                  Although I sat in a corner staring out at the NYC streets, I felt very much on my own. My coffee equal parts bitter and sweet, equal parts logo free, plain white cup and high end coffee taste. With aged tin on the wall to my left and a collage of Italian papers plastered on the wall to my right I felt perfectly content. Their door stayed open during my visit, leaving their music mixed with a bit of the sounds of NYC that people over pay for daily, myself included. Being that the first song that began playing as I sat down was “Gold on the Ceiling” by the Black Keys, I’d say the mix of the “streets of New York” was a perfect fit. I’ll admit even as I sit here in this café attempting to write this review I find myself attempting to figure it all out. Figure out their unique combinations of food, the simplicity of their coffee why the only guy in here without a wedding ring isn't hitting on me and what exactly these Italian newspapers say. (So far I can read “Jazz” which in Italian is “Jazz.” Inside look at how well polished my Italian is folks.) If you find yourself stuck in the commercial badger of Midtown West, find your peace in Piccolo. Open Monday through Friday 7:30am to 8:00pm and 10:00am to 8:00pm on Saturday and Sunday at four different locations, I’d say you have a vast opportunity to make it down to this café at some point within your hectic work week. With frayed ropes, vintage décor and wooden stools I felt as if I was in a small mountain town’s corner store. The corner store feel, with the wood accents, personable employees, slowed down time but with the upbeat nature of the city which at the end of the day is all we need in a city. It looks as though it has been finally figured out “How to slow down time.” All you need is $1.50 for a coffee, a good book, and a few slowed down hours. 274 West 40^th Street, make a trip, read Italian, eat good food. (Oh and “Questa Settimana” means this week. Find it on the wall. You’re welcome for the Italian lesson. I charge by the hour.)

Mudhouse: Charlottesville, Virginia

             

Situated at the end of a row of cute outdoor dining, locally owned shops, and mingling young adults is the Mudhouse. Charlottesville Virginia was the perfect stop for my family and I as we looked for a break from driving. Grace Potter was signing at the music venue over the water, providing us with background music as we walked down the main strip of shops and restaurants. I couldn't shake the feeling that I was in a movie. I would have felt rather ambiguous had this been true because my hair just simply wasn't up to par compared to the plentiful Southern hipsters that lined the streets. Everyone was sitting outside, drink in hand, enjoying the evening breeze. As we began to lose the sound of Grace Potter and the sun was dimming, we reached

the quaint sign of the Mudhouse. Had it not been for my dramatic stopping-dead-in-my-tracks turn around, my family would have passed right on by. Within moments we were inside breathing it all in. Local students from the University of Virginia filled a few of the seats, middle aged adults preoccupying the rest. Everyone had a well-rested look to them as if the cafe was also a well prescribed anti-aging cream (if only). But alas I had to go keep on aging leaving with a few pictures on my phone and a chai in my hand.    

                The staff was quick to help me as soon as I entered. They didn't ask me if it was my first time there, making me feel self-conscious, they just welcomed me with a smile and let me fall in place where my feet met the counter. Their drink menu was simple. Nothing over the top, nothing new, just classic coffee drinks made well. The walls were a stripped down look giving the overall appearance of just that-- a stripped down coffee escape in the middle of a young town. The colors were dark enough to keep you in the dark roast altered mood of your cup of Joe but lined with windows to keep your day dreaming active for hours to come.

                The menu was simple. Simply coffee, because who needs strange flavors and strange names when a simple latte or cappuccino, when made right, is all you need to lift your mood. If you find yourself in the quaint town of Charlottesville Virginia you would be doing a disservice to yourself if you skipped a coffee break at the Mudhouse. 

Old City Coffee; Philadelphia, PA

It’s so easy to become overwhelmed in Philadelphia, from the historic must-sees to the shopping that lies on each street corner. What I was searching for in Philly was coffee. As my friend Mariah and I ventured out to Philly for the day, we knew we wanted to spend most of the day in Philly’s Old City. Once we reached the point where our faces were melted off, lying in a puddle next to some tourist’s feet, we set out to find Old City Coffee. Old City is one of my favorite parts of the city because of the quaint feel, brick buildings and quiet side streets. It is on one of those quiet side streets, Church Street, where you can find the Old City Coffee. This is a must stop while in Philly, and as I walked up to its front door I could already see why. With two chairs separated by a small table outside of the door, elevated on a small block of cement, your perfect outdoor seating was there for the claiming.

As I opened up the heavy front door, I realized the quaint feel of Church Street was not just for the viewing but for the experience. There were a few people ahead of us which was comforting since Mariah and I were standing in awe of the menu. They had espresso in all its forms, enough teas to make the devoted tea lover stop dead in their tracks and a collection of lattes to make everyone happy. Once we had acquired our drinks, and after I had awkwardly walked around the tiny front room taking pictures, we headed to the back room. It was a much bigger space than the front and the large windows in the front let us adore the outside weather without dealing with the heat. Whether it was the employee who stopped by on his day off or the stream of regulars who caught up with the girls behind the counter, I was able to tell that this was the café to be at. It wasn’t too crowded nor too quiet and it wasn’t too touristy which was quite the pleasure. (Being a tourist myself, I tried my best to act like a local throughout my coffee’s lifespan, but my awe and adoration was probably visible in my wandering eyes).

As we said goodbye to the dapper middle aged man reading the paper, the two women on their business meeting, and the line of coffee grounds enticing costumers into their caffeinated arms, we left feeling recharged and ready to explore the streets of Philly. If you ever find yourself in Philadelphia I would advise you to make sure to stop by Old City Coffee for a drink  or a quiet rest from the city of Brotherly Love. 

Pavement Coffee House: Boston, Massachusetts

       

     As I walked down Newbury Street in Boston with my friends Jessica and Cassandra, I hardly expected to see a rustic coffee shop hidden in the mix of designer stores. Pavement Coffee House was just what I needed to find on that rainy day. It was nestled in the downstairs part of a brownstone right next to a Pinkberry, but the flow of costumers were clearly not there for frozen yogurt. The four ceiling-to-floor windows gave me a clear view of what to expect as I began to enter the cafe, but it was all for naught as I was again awed by the perfect ambiance that resonated throughout. There were window seats to my left with small tree stumps being used as tables for the coffee lovers. As you headed more toward your right you hit small intimate tables as well as the counter. The counter had wood paneling lining the outside and the chalkboard-like menu boards balanced this perfectly. 

                I stepped up to the counter trying to act as though I was a local (although the look of wonderment on my face was clearly showing otherwise). I scanned the menu. With prices comparable to many other coffee shops, the prices were around $3 for any latte, cappuccino, or steamer. I ordered a vanilla steamer from their huge selection of Counter Culture Coffee and lunch sandwiches and salads. I was a mere foot away from the bubbly employee who began making my steamer. With a toss of the vanilla bottle behind his back, giving the glass a splash of vanilla, he was the perfect bartender—of coffee that is. I again tried to make it seem as though I was a local but quickly failed doing so as I asked where the lids were when I received a cup with no lid. The employee was extremely nice as he pointed over to the wood framed counter with sugars, stirrers, and lids. I blushed as I knew my “local” façade had been broken.

                Every table in the coffee shop was taken. There were men meeting younger men for coffee telling them the in’s and out’s of life, there were woman with children trying to get that much needed shot of espresso before heading back out for a long day, and there were hipsters by the bucket load. There were mustaches, oxfords, secret coffee drinks only they know of and “I-don’t-listen-to-anything-mainstream” kind of bands playing on every iPod in the place. I was not complaining. So as I said goodbye to the man with the great blazer and impeccable shoes, (this was a mental goodbye of course seeing as we did not engage in conversation whatsoever) I headed out the door, happy, content and ready to go back. If ever in Boston you must surely make a stop to any three of Pavement Coffee House’s locations on Gainsborough Street, Boylston Street or as I visited, Newbury Street. I’ll see you soon, Pavement CoffeeHouse! 

Kahve: New York, New York

        Nestled quietly on 9^th Avenue in Hell's Kitchen, a few blocks west of Times Square, Kahve (the Turkish word for coffee) Coffee Lounge was the perfect break from the bustle of tourists. With it being open till 10 on weekdays and extra late weekend hours, you can always find time to stop in for a moment. The narrow, only a few tables space was the perfect place to do work. Locals claimed most of the tables doing work that the week had left them, reading, or checking out the variety of attractive patrons who stopped by for an espresso fix. I and four friends sat in a homey corner, admiring anything and everything. The exposed brick wall, the antique-looking mirror, the chalkboard menu boards, it all fit together to create a small town cafe feel. (Luckily for us, it's right here in our jungle, NYC.) The drinks were exactly as they should be, no Starbucks version of macchiatos, lattes, or chais. The (so beautifully hipster) barista behind the counter recognized the locals, made the newbies feel like locals, and put the Starbucks addicts in their place. Maybe it was the coffee sacks used for seats, the warm almond chai, or the calmness in a busy city, but something about the place had me falling in love. (It also could well have been the attractive man with the cute dog parallel to my window seat.) Whatever sparked the love, had me locked in my seat. I contemplated ordering another drink just so I had an excuse to remain there. But sadly life must go on. (Actually my friends had to drag me out by my hair. I'm sure the cute man with the dog found that highly attractive.) It was the perfect morning stop and would be for you as well. Now I'm back to campus where the men aren't as quaff and Starbucks coffee just isn't cutting it. Be a local, tourists or not, and head over to Kahve.

Caffe Bene: New York, New York

There is a strong misconception that real New Yorkers don’t go into Times Square, well if that is true they sadly haven’t experienced Caffe Bene. Nestled on the corner of Broadway and 49^th, Caffe Bene is the perfect stop to forget about the tourist infested streets right beyond the floor to ceiling windows. Mixing rustic urban architecture with the classic feel of a New York coffee shop, the café could be patented with the hugely famous term “hipster.”

The front room housed the in-and-outers, the upstairs collected the coined business men and women mixed with the hum of couples seeking their usual seats; the back room, however, was my personal favorite. The back of the café was compiled of two full wall bookcases filled with cookbooks, classics, encyclopedias and much more. Large tables allowed for group studying, and small tables allowed book nerds like me to sink into the bookcases, eaten by pure delight.                

As if the atmosphere wasn't enough, Caffe Bene offers food that will put a smile on your face (if of course the bookcases and well-dressed men surrounding you didn't already do that). Their trademark item, the waffle, seems to be a simple food, but by Caffe Bene’s terms is not. Chocolate Waffles, Red Velvet Waffles, Pistachio Waffles, Strawberry Chocolate and the special combo of a waffle and coffee—what more could you want? If you do want more or you don’t care for waffles (blasphemy) there are wraps, sandwiches, salads and every dripping-with-caffeine drink you could ever imagine, including a Red Velvet Latte. (Insert Foodgasm)  After I got over the impeccable shoes of the man sitting diagonal from me, I was able to have some great sweets laced with conversation. Caffe Bene was a stumble upon that will now become a must go. Whether you are just stopping to grab a drink or you need to study, Caffe Bene has the means to accommodate.

        I can hear the I-phones unlocking now, plans being canceled, and Times Square meeting a few new faces, because Caffe Bene is the place to stop and refresh.  

On Orange: Lancaster, PA

Whether you’re in the city for Sunday morning service or admiring galleries, the perfect place to stop for lunch lies right “on Orange” street.  On Orange is nestled between art galleries and a small bookstore, “Winding Way Books.” Open from 7 am to 1:30 pm every day, On Orange gives you gourmet breakfast just when you want it. In search of the perfect Sunday lunch, my family and I stumbled upon On Orange only to spend an hour of our time falling in love with the old apartment feel of the building, the filling but not excessive plates, the nearly full but no line amount of customers, and the loving-their-job staff.

                After getting through the embarrassment that I didn't know how to say the name of the dish I wanted to order, I was soon on my way to eating away any discontent I may have had. The ChilaQuiles (you try and say it) came in a bowl and left down the front of my shirt. This isn't the dish for the mild salsa buyers; it was a fiery dish of tortilla chips simmered in Spicy Red Chili Chorizo Sausage Sauce,

Queso Fresco, and over-easy eggs. To say the least I quite enjoyed myself as I licked the bowl with my side of toast. They have a wide variety of dishes from omelets, gruyere grilled cheeses, the ever-popular Lancaster favorite of cream chipped beef, to never-before-served sandwiches. The light conversation in the air paired with the large windows and cream colored paint matching the light, friendly dishes that On Orange had to offer.

                The corners were filled with young couples (notice that I came with my family, no lover in sight; not that I’m bitter), the elderly, the middle aged and the families of Lancaster. The staff was just as diverse as the customers. They were young, middle aged, artsy, grunge, friendly and always smiling. A personality for everyone. 

                This holiday season will be a busy one and as you are out Christmas shopping or admiring the streets of Lancaster City you might want to do yourself a favor. Head on over to On Orange, where you’ll be greeted immediately and have waters on your table before your thirst can even croak. Come with an open mind and leave a new regular of On Orange. 

The Grey Dog: New York, New York

It was Parent Weekend here at Hofstra, this meaning free dinner: ate elsewhere; free concert: didn't go; free brunch: slept late and called it lunch. I did, however, participate in the Parent part of Parent Weekend. This being said, my parents and I decided to make our own agenda. We headed into the city, East Village to be exact. We found ourselves at the Grey Dog. With three locations you have no excuse but to have a cappuccino, an espresso, a beer, or an I-am-skinny-and-pretty-in-order-to-make-your-self-esteem-go-down water to complement your meal.

The wide framed double doors were left open during our Saturday night Grey Dog experience, raising the appeal quite a bit. The Grey Dog is a good kind of claustrophobic --the sitting-upon-strangers-fighting-for-a-table-most-intimate-meal-you’ve-had-with-family kind of claustrophobic. The walls are mostly exposed brick which I have previously expressed my love for. I’m convinced that the workers all paint in their free time and drink special concoctions that make you sweet, funny and rather attractive. If any of you guys are available, call me. Area code (I’m); Number (totally but not really) Extension (kidding).

The food is food that makes you that perfect amount of full. Where you stand up at a normal rate, not the “All you can eat” restaurant stand where you cautiously grip the table with one hand the other on your chair, moaning all the while as your legs hold the newly added weight. When you order, you give your name thus leading to a special moment of hearing your name yelled throughout the restaurant until you promptly alert the employee that those dishes are yours. And with how the food looks, trust me it will be promptly. I had an Arugula salad with Avocado and Chicken. It was meant to get Salmon but I’m a diva, so what are ya gonna do. My mom had the #1 (in order to figure out exactly what that is you will have to give yourself the pleasure of heading to Grey Dog). Lucky enough for my mom she was able to get that on gluten free bread. (Insert cheers from my mother) All the while, my dad ravishing over his portobello mushroom sandwich. Topped off by a cheese board to be shared among the three of us, we left very happy people.

If you like good food, an artsy atmosphere and an overall quality experience then make sure to head to University Place, West 16th Street or Mulberry Street in Manhattan to get your fix of Grey Dog. Warning: you may and will most likely become addicted, so much so you will want to become a regular thus leading to you ultimately moving to NYC. So thank you Grey Dog, for the over populated city that we all love so dearly.

The Shoppes at 301: Lancaster, PA

The Shoppes at 301 North Queen located on the corner of Queen Street and Walnut Street in Lancaster City is not like the cafes surrounding it. With a flare of Southern France and a hint of NYC hysteria, Café at 301 is not just a café, it’s an experience.                 

As soon as you enter you are surrounded by a mix of French class and Southern hospitality. The tablecloths are mix-matched ranging from chicken to flower print. This isn't the café for sitting with just drinks. If you feel the need for that though, you can claim a seat up at the coffee bar. The conversation travels throughout the café, led by the owner herself. Personable, the owner mingles among the customers speaking of café inspirations, the quaint nature of Lancaster and NYC. I spoke of all three with her but lingered longer on the latter. 

The food is “this-looks-like-you-can’t-afford-it-but-surprise-its-actually-quite-reasonable” kind of food. The portions are French style, meaning they are sized like they should be—not the American way. My dad had a PBJ with bacon. Yes, you heard me right. As you can presume there was not a crumb left on the plate. After eating my “almost-too-pretty-to-eat” meal, I was the perfect amount of full. That is until I went home and ate Nutella straight out of the jar but that’s simply the American way. Your lattes and cappuccinos are there for the picking but the salads, open faced sandwiches, cheese and olive assortments, pastries, desserts, etc., are what make the café into something truly special. If you have a spare moment and are in the mood for a delicious meal only paused for fascinating conversation then you should try out The Shoppes at 301 North Queen.

Gregory's Coffee: New York, New York

There is a difference between being IN New York and BEING in New York. I prefer the latter. Times Square is great, Rockefeller Plaza is grand, but what’s wonderful and fascinating are the local hotspots. I don’t know about you, but I’m past getting asked if I want to go to a comedy show in Times Square, going into the NBC store and commenting on the same collection of Office mugs and T-shirts, and having to change my entire route because of the potentially pedophilic man dressed up like Elmo dead ahead. I’m ready for the local spots. Spots like Gregory’s Coffee. With five locations throughout New York City, you are promised your fix of coffee no matter where you are.

                As I stepped off of Avenues of the Americas and into Gregory’s Coffee, I was instantly transported. The tourists become engulfed by the ritzy buildings that cause that God-knows-we-don’t-got-none-o’-them-there-kind-of-things-in-our-small-towns distraction. What they don’t realize is just how much of New York they are missing as they stare simply at the skyline.

Gregory's Coffee Logo

                There was a small line in front of me, nothing compared to most NYC lines, as I decided what I wanted to try. Cappuccinos, espresso, croissants, muffins, tea and what I personally enjoyed, a dirty chai. I think 90% of the reason I ordered it was because I enjoy saying the words dirty chai in public and feeling accepted. I’m still working on getting my voice to a level of sultry that this drink order demands, but that will come with time, I suppose.

                Mocha colored walls match the color of the drinks (unless of course you are using unheard of amounts of creamer, which if so I advise you to try tea, you’ll save yourself about 5,000 calories). The decoration is quite modern with clean lines, wooden tables and tall chairs. My feet dangle from the chair as I stare out at the taxis, people, and trash that seem to fly past the floor to ceiling windows. The serenity of Gregory’s café offers a polar opposite to the busyness that lies just beyond that window. The workers chatting coffee, “Gregulars” scattered around utilizing the free Wifi, and me attempting to get my brother to engage in conversation instead of texting his girlfriend, causes for one of my favorite café feels.

                So I suggest all you New Yorkers, “gregulate” your schedule to include time for a sip at Gregory’s Coffee. I promise you’ll have a “greg” time. Ok, the puns are done. So get your cup and your Gregulars’ card at Gregory’s Coffee where "they see coffee differently." 

Cafe One Eight: Lancaster, PA

Cute. It’s used too often, like “that child is so cute.” Well, no because he is crying and throwing food at people but sure if you wanna say cute that’s fine. Or “that dog is so cute,” well it’s about to bite you, but if you think bleeding is cute then by all means call it cute. To describe the café in Lancaster city, Café One Eight, the word cute, with its true meaning, is very fitting. City chic meets cute. With exposed brick walls, hanging basket seats, and a chalkboard painted wall where the specials are written, it’s cute.

I’m a sucker for exposed brick walls. I swear I spent about twenty minutes gushing about the brick walls and the paintings hanging from them. My friend was most likely planning her exit during my impromptu lecture on why I love brick walls. Chalkboard paint added an earthy feel. It was their very own handwriting lining the walls. The handwriting was of course perfect, since the café as a whole is just that, perfect.

                All the employees, on the day that I visited, were Plain Mennonite causing me to feel a bit sinful for wearing pants but I’ll repent later. Yes, it has the coffee drinks that everyone so desires, but it also has a full menu of food selections. I personally chose a Santa Fe Chicken Salad. To. Die. For. After consuming that salad the thought did cross my mind of attempting to work there. That salad was so good I would easily and happily start wearing a long jean skirt and head covering. I am from Lancaster afterall, and have more than my fair share of Mennonite blood running through my veins.  

My beautiful friend Erin 

                My best friend, Erin, and I sat towards the front of the café where floor to ceiling windows allow for the perfect people watching. A construction worker, a mom with a Duggar Family amount of children, the scenery outside is quite eclectic but inside the mix of people seem to be business waiting to get take out, mom’s meeting up for a get-me-out-of-the-house kind of lunch, and people like my friend and I who had a we-see-each-other-everyday-but-we-act-like-its-been-years kind of lunch.

                If you have a chance and want to be embraced by the true definition of cuteness and their amazing mission statement, then head on down to Orange Street for a bite to eat at Café One Eight. 

Ocean City Coffee Company; Ocean City, New Jersey

                Vacationing doesn’t mean a break from coffee, unless of course you WANT to see the ugly side of your family. You all know what side I’m talking about. That side where crow’s feet appear more prevenatly, to the point that you don’t recognize your mother as she mutters some speech about the good old days. Mini-golf trips turn into who can beat the other person with the club the hardest, picking the perfect place on the beach to set up becomes an hour long event and so on. That is beside the point. If you are lucky enough to find yourself in the quaint town, Ocean City, New Jersey then you may find yourself searching for a café to quench your coffee thirst. Ocean City Coffee Company in New Jersey; the opportune place for vacationers to grab their java. 

                With no door, you simply meander in right off from the boardwalk, still clinging to the sea licked air as you order your coffee. This café doesn’t distract you with sandwiches, salads etc. they have their coffee, cappuccino’s, lattes, chai, tea, muffins and a few other small snacks but for this café it’s all about getting the customer their Fix. While many of the stores as well as condos at the beach focus their interior design on that seashells-plastered-on-the-walls-this-is-the-beach-so-enjoy-the-fish-wallpaper feel,  The Coffee Company doesn’t. Their interior is a bit rustic. Your path as you enter is lined on either side with full bags of coffee beans which they roast in shop to your left. Mahogany shelving lines the right wall, displaying mugs, coffee beans the whole lot, not too much to distract but enough to catch the eye.

                With no seating, you grab your coffee and go. A coffee drive through, so to speak.  This avoids frustrated moments of searching for a table, old men in the corner waiting for girls in bikinis, and small children screaming for the 9,323 time that they want a milkshake. Well send the kids to Kelis’s yard to get that milkshake because you don’t want to miss your daily stop at Ocean City's Coffee Company. 

Rachel’s Café and Creperie: Lancaster, PA

           If I had the money to go to France, I would, but I don’t. I have negative money, the story of every college student. Although my numbers are in the red I still seem to manage to splurge on chai, cafes and clothes. Sad but true. Feeling a little French, despite the fact that I look hideous in a beret, I met my dad for lunch at the infamous Rachel’s Café and Creperie.

From the curb, the café looks simple, lined with awnings of black and white stripes, but as you step through the glass door, for no money at all you can head to France for a little while. Greeting you, right beyond the door, stands a headless mannequin dressed in some sort of easy, breezy, beautiful--Rachel’s attire. Photographs line the walls, each with remnants of the Eiffel tower, or something to that effect. I, being someone who desperately wants to be well traveled, finds it amusing to look at the photographs, even dramatically pointing at some of them, leaning over to my father loudly muttering of how I was on that street. Oui, oui. Only French words I know. I’ve never been to France.  

After you obtain a seat in either one of the two rooms, you’re in for a “traiter.” That’s treat in French, thank you Google translate. From Cheeseburger Crepes, Greek Crepes, Thai Crepes, to what I believe to be created by God himself, Nutella Crepes, they’ve got it all. God bless the man who thought to create Nutella. This is literally a marriage proposal to that man, or an invitation to simply cook for me, either one will suffice. Eating is my specialty. (Insert winky face.)

My dad and I cleared our plates of a Greek and a Breakfast crepe within minutes of their arrival. Next we felt the need to indulge in one of the Nutella crepes I so greatly praised in the paragraph above. It was simply splendid. So splendid, it ended up not only in my mouth but on my dress as well. It becomes a dog eat dog world when you place one singular Nutella crepe in front of my father and me.  After my dad finished his last swig of Boylan Cane Cola, because Rachel’s is just too hipster to have Coke beverages, we were off. Goodbye France, hello Lancaster City. 

The Coffee Company; Lancaster, PA

                The Coffee Company, living in a strip mall right off the highway, it serves as a great rest stop, gathering place, and coffee fix. I spent an hour of my time there today. As soon as you enter you sense a combination of eras mixing just as well as that scrumptious chai I had. The overall appeal of the cafe seems to be a mix of 1950’s inspired black and white photos which claim the walls while the modern day paintings sitting among the picture frames, wait to find owners.
The employees themselves hold an era of art. I always seem to find myself with a strong desire to begin dressing more bohemian after surveying the employees’ outfits; I also acquire the desire to get dreads. I occasionally do the first, but the latter has yet to be attempted. After pushing thoughts of what I would look like with dreads from my mind, I am able to enjoy what I came here for, food enhanced by the sweet taste of my Hot Vanilla chai. For only $3.40 I can have my chai and drink it too.
                From young adults who look like the poster children for Woodstock to middle aged couples who look as though their Woodstock children have led them to be addicts of alcohol or caffeine, the latter winning, to older couples who look as though they own a second home in France where they wear sweaters around their shoulders and kiss everyone they meet. Although I am none of those, the atmosphere is so open and inviting that I mix into the butter colored walls, air thick with conversation and Indie music just as well as anyone else. From 7am till 8 on weekdays and 9 on the weekend, you can find the appeal that is The Coffee Company for yourself. With the occasional live music it’s the perfect cafe for a date, a friend hang out, or a dinner spot, especially with its full menu of breakfast through dinner options.
                Now, although I do not leave with dreadlocks I do leave full from salad, soup, a sandwich and/or a drink off of their full coffee bar. I’m a sucker for a good chai, and I simply haven’t found a chai around that compares to the artistically crafted chai from The Coffee Company.

Prince Street Cafe; Lancaster, PA

Prince Street Café. A place for coffee, conversation, and people watching. In one word, Prince St. is class. It exudes a captivatedly classy atmosphere that attracts people of all ages. You always have a few select tables filled with older men, rumbling about the usual old men things, baseball, grandchildren, golf, Viagra. Scattered throughout the tables of old men you have the lone stars. They sit, alone, some with their laptop others with books, soaking up the chic ambiance. Beside them are the teens. Hipsters. Thousands of them, well since the seating capacity is roughly around seventy people this is a bit of an exaggeration, but you get the picture. Teen and young adults such as myself flock to Prince Street Café. It gives us something to do in the rural town of Lancaster, other than cow tipping and thought provokingly biting on pieces of straw.

On occasion, or for me almost every night, people trade their thought provoking biting of straw for a Prince St. beverage. From cappuccino, to chai to irresistible Strawberry Lemonade, Prince St. offers your typical café beverages, ranging from $1 to $5. If a drink simply is not enough to satisfy the missing piece of straw in your mouth, then lucky for you Prince St. also not only offers dinner, such as mozzarella salad, turkey sandwiches with homemade chips, and my personal suggestion of quesadillas, but a great abundance of desserts as well. Muffins, pies, cakes of all kinds and a Lancaster County favorite, whoopee pies are also for your picking. After placing your order at the counter, you, your guests and your Prince St. number can sit and wait for your drinks.

The art of picking a table is a tricky one. You can immerse yourself among the old men, listening to old tales of war, among the loners, listening to the faint sound of Jazz music sneaking out of their ear buds, or next to the hipsters, listening to talk of unknown bands, skinny jeans, and novelty shops. #hipsterproblems. My personal suggestion is to if possible sit at a high table. The high tables are located along the ceiling to floor glass windows of the front wall of the café. These tables allow for not only people watching among the café, but along the street as well. With the Fulton Theater right across the street, you can easily watch the people post-show flooding out on to the streets. This is perfect when you find yourself on an awkward first date. Prince St. is an amazing date spot, but we all have had those dates that feel as though there is a better chance of God himself coming down and ordering a shot of espresso than you coming up with something to say. When the awkwardness begins so must the people watching.

From the coffee brown walls, red accents, and orange hued lighting, Prince Street Café is a place with little to no comparison. No café transcends the appeal of multiple generations quite like Prince St. does. So get that piece of straw out of your mouth, and get a Prince Street Café coffee instead.