You’re Italy, I’m Indonesia

Fellow sophisticates, approaching a well-manicured espresso escape is not my cup of tea. Correlating high-priced Tiffany light fixtures, with well brewed coffee, is a miscalculation. You’re Italy, I’m Indonesia. I’m thatched roof, you’re expensive drapery. Furthermore, indicators of high quality brew are hidden in the subtle, less-sophisticated elements of a java hole-in-the-wall. Emphasis on less-expensive furnishings allow for focus to be placed on conjuring up new frothy inventions. Work from local artisans shrouding the old brick walls, or a separate corner for barista lab work to take place, are good signs – not red flags. A billion pastry options are; a billion classified ads on the corner bulletin board are not. Limiting to biscotti’s, croissants, and bagels, as well as the occasional sandwich, is essential.

If a place has a hard time being “Google’d”, it must be good; further suggesting that only locals know about it. Lacking a thatched roof, one small brick-walled oasis, that fuses local musicians with its beans, is tucked alongside the U St. corridor. Being caught of guard by meeting my aforementioned décor pre-qualifications, not one, but two musical acts resulted from a long wait to receive my mocha and dry pastry via the high-strung barista [Legend has it that he previously bounced people out of his shop for hogging the high-speed.]. Some of the best coffee artwork dotted the old brick edifice. Ethan Allen had been replaced by an eclectic Goodwill selection and potted plants. And, of course, everything from yoga lessons to Realtors could be found on the bulletin board above the cream and sugar. And, probably due to shop owner inflicted fear, not everyone has connected to the internet [see Coffee Shops and Computer Labs].