Today we walked briskly along St. Marks, facing the bitter cold winds of New York City, determined to find something to warm our shivering bodies.
Coffee? I said timidly, seeing a sign we just passed. No one turned around.
Udon? I tried again, seeing another window with warm bodies indoors.
I could go for that! I heard a voice beside me. Looking up from the folds of my scarf, I saw L., equally frost-pinched.
Udon? I repeated.
No, the coffee... he said hesitantly.
Ok! I jumped. Taking few steps back to the sign, I looked up. It hangs over the passers by, inviting them for an authentic coffee experience... and hot chocolate! If there is anything better than strong coffee with rich cream on a cold winter day, it's rich, dark hot chocolate, made with milk and served with love. My stomach forgot its recent pleas for sustenance and I rushed up the stone stairs. Mmmm chocolate!
Through the sliding door to the left, there is a coffee bar, behind which stands a smiling, friendly and disarmingly genuine barista named Katarina, serving meticulously prepared coffee beverages and freshly made hot chocolate. She has a European accent and according to an old and rude tradition, my friend and I begin to guess where she is from. Turns out, it's Italy. So says her brother, who is lingering on the guest side of the bar after his shift, chatting with a friend and occasionally popping behind the bar to mix a coffee or help his sister out when her hands are full. There are several machines and thus several technologies for preparing coffee. I notice the drip, and get excited. Another gentleman comes in, orders an espresso and joins us at the tiny bar. My friend, prompted by the lack of space, instantly sparks up a conversation with him.
The brother and sister duet is serving a drip coffee to L., accompanied by a petite steel pitcher of cream - delicious, may I add! and Katarina prepares our hot chocolates with milk. Before she serves us, she detects a hint of doubt, so she shows us what she would be using to make our drinks. Despite being half-frozen inside a banal plastic container, the chocolate mix was freshly made every day to be later prepared with hot milk; it resembled the chocolate truffle mix I make at home. Looks like dreams do come true, I thought. Thank you, I am coffee!
As she served our drinks, a hearty tablespoon of chocolate in each, with an off-white saucer for our spoons and a dainty sparkling steel sugar bowl, the barista told us to stir in the chocolate for 1 minute. The hands-on approach to making your own drink may deter the lazies in the crowd, but for this 'artesian' coffee shop the goal is to engage you with the beverage. Katarina tells me that some drinks on the menu are never made to go - like the espresso - and being far away from her homeland of Italy, she and her family will not break that sacred rule. I ask her if it is a family business... yes, it is, she says: it was started by her uncle with her two brothers and herself just two and a half months ago. Finally, things are picking up, she smiles. Behind her are traditional laced curtains for kitchen cabinets familiar to me from old Italian films with a young Sophia Loren. What do they hide? Perhaps coffee, pastry and chocolate secrets of a distant Italian home...
There are now seven of us standing at the bar - there are no chairs (and no space for them) - and from our privileged height we see wistful gazes of walkers wishing for a reviving cup of coffee. Alas, I am coffee is packed to carrying capacity at 7.
Katarina tells me that yes, the place is small, but it is a traditional Italian spot, with coffee served - and drunk - at the bar, standing and socializing with fellow drinkers. She wants to bring this tradition to the U.S., sans compromises. Space is not an issue, she points out to me, showing me the three-cup curved saucers made seemingly for espressos but also used to hold coffee, cream and sugar comfortably in one hand at the crowded bar. And we even have these, she says with an infectious smile, pulling out a dark sepia decorated mini-saucer, for pastry. When she says pastry, my eyes wander over to said objects, and I see only 3 varieties: cookies and two pies. The pies are not pre-sliced, even though it is apparent they will be sold by the day's end. They look too delicious to try so soon... maybe next time...
My friend looks at her watch and we realize we're late for our bus. All good things must come to an end! Thankfully, the drip coffee and hot chocolate can be made to go. I say goodbye to the smiling barista, grab a business card and head down the steps to join the flowing crowd of St. Marks. No longer hungry, I cradle the best hot chocolate I've ever had in my hands and L. is uncharacteristically drawing out his cup of coffee as we head west. Finders - keepers.
I am coffee is located at 9 Saint Marks Place
(between 2nd and 3rd Ave)
Coffee? I said timidly, seeing a sign we just passed. No one turned around.
Udon? I tried again, seeing another window with warm bodies indoors.
I could go for that! I heard a voice beside me. Looking up from the folds of my scarf, I saw L., equally frost-pinched.
Udon? I repeated.
No, the coffee... he said hesitantly.
Ok! I jumped. Taking few steps back to the sign, I looked up. It hangs over the passers by, inviting them for an authentic coffee experience... and hot chocolate! If there is anything better than strong coffee with rich cream on a cold winter day, it's rich, dark hot chocolate, made with milk and served with love. My stomach forgot its recent pleas for sustenance and I rushed up the stone stairs. Mmmm chocolate!
Through the sliding door to the left, there is a coffee bar, behind which stands a smiling, friendly and disarmingly genuine barista named Katarina, serving meticulously prepared coffee beverages and freshly made hot chocolate. She has a European accent and according to an old and rude tradition, my friend and I begin to guess where she is from. Turns out, it's Italy. So says her brother, who is lingering on the guest side of the bar after his shift, chatting with a friend and occasionally popping behind the bar to mix a coffee or help his sister out when her hands are full. There are several machines and thus several technologies for preparing coffee. I notice the drip, and get excited. Another gentleman comes in, orders an espresso and joins us at the tiny bar. My friend, prompted by the lack of space, instantly sparks up a conversation with him.
The brother and sister duet is serving a drip coffee to L., accompanied by a petite steel pitcher of cream - delicious, may I add! and Katarina prepares our hot chocolates with milk. Before she serves us, she detects a hint of doubt, so she shows us what she would be using to make our drinks. Despite being half-frozen inside a banal plastic container, the chocolate mix was freshly made every day to be later prepared with hot milk; it resembled the chocolate truffle mix I make at home. Looks like dreams do come true, I thought. Thank you, I am coffee!
As she served our drinks, a hearty tablespoon of chocolate in each, with an off-white saucer for our spoons and a dainty sparkling steel sugar bowl, the barista told us to stir in the chocolate for 1 minute. The hands-on approach to making your own drink may deter the lazies in the crowd, but for this 'artesian' coffee shop the goal is to engage you with the beverage. Katarina tells me that some drinks on the menu are never made to go - like the espresso - and being far away from her homeland of Italy, she and her family will not break that sacred rule. I ask her if it is a family business... yes, it is, she says: it was started by her uncle with her two brothers and herself just two and a half months ago. Finally, things are picking up, she smiles. Behind her are traditional laced curtains for kitchen cabinets familiar to me from old Italian films with a young Sophia Loren. What do they hide? Perhaps coffee, pastry and chocolate secrets of a distant Italian home...
There are now seven of us standing at the bar - there are no chairs (and no space for them) - and from our privileged height we see wistful gazes of walkers wishing for a reviving cup of coffee. Alas, I am coffee is packed to carrying capacity at 7.
Katarina tells me that yes, the place is small, but it is a traditional Italian spot, with coffee served - and drunk - at the bar, standing and socializing with fellow drinkers. She wants to bring this tradition to the U.S., sans compromises. Space is not an issue, she points out to me, showing me the three-cup curved saucers made seemingly for espressos but also used to hold coffee, cream and sugar comfortably in one hand at the crowded bar. And we even have these, she says with an infectious smile, pulling out a dark sepia decorated mini-saucer, for pastry. When she says pastry, my eyes wander over to said objects, and I see only 3 varieties: cookies and two pies. The pies are not pre-sliced, even though it is apparent they will be sold by the day's end. They look too delicious to try so soon... maybe next time...
My friend looks at her watch and we realize we're late for our bus. All good things must come to an end! Thankfully, the drip coffee and hot chocolate can be made to go. I say goodbye to the smiling barista, grab a business card and head down the steps to join the flowing crowd of St. Marks. No longer hungry, I cradle the best hot chocolate I've ever had in my hands and L. is uncharacteristically drawing out his cup of coffee as we head west. Finders - keepers.
I am coffee is located at 9 Saint Marks Place
(between 2nd and 3rd Ave)
You forgot to mention that your friend was barely visible over the checkout counter.
ReplyDeleteAnd she was super-excited that you got to meet her boyfriend, and in such close quarter too.
Twice even. ;)