“You’ve already won me over, in spite of me.”
March 6, 2010
The undertone of all advertising and marketing is that we’ve got waaaaay too much stuff, and as a society we’ve long since abandoned practical need as the primary motivator for acquiring stuff. It’s largely that reason that advertising has become as so exceedingly absurd. For example, the only possible reason a company like CocaCola needs to continue their aggressive advertising campaign is so no one stops and asks what the heck cola actually is. They have one of the most recognizable brands on the planet, yet they spend millions on advertising. Chances are, their product is killing you.
Can you feel the choco-love?
The opposite is true with Sahagun in downtown Portland. An establishment can’t have that big of a reputation and be that small, in that location and not have something special to offer. Now I haven’t liked chocolate since a minor bout with cavities ruined it for me when I was 12, but I’ve never stopped appreciating it being done well. While the Sahagun specialty is chocolate, I was curious if my pro-coffee-anti-supersweet M.O. would dampen my experience. Much to my surprise and delight, both my desire for a non-sweet drink (cocoa latte) and my fiancee’s need for some endorphin-engaging hot chocolate were both satisfied. Having tried their cocoa latte and a sip of their hot chocolate, the mocha can’t possibly be anything less than phenomenal.
The cocoa-latte: it ain't sweet, but I love it anyway.
If you like chocolate then you will want to live in Sahagun Chocolates. Unfortunately there just isn’t enough room. There’s just enough room for owner and primary chocolateer Elizabeth Montes to perform her chocolate alchemy, but not much more. Accommodations be damned, good chocolate is good chocolate. In the couple minutes we spent fumbling together our orders, a line of about six slowly built itself and extended out the door. Considering the size of the place, that’s not saying much, but it’s just another indication that Montes serves up something special (check out her story here).
You would think that a coffee shop loiterer like myself would be turned of by an establishment with only four seats. Of course, I am a fan of window seats, so, in theory, I’ve found an establishment with only window seats. You can’t beat that.
“A very, very unbirthday…to me?”
February 26, 2010
“I’ll just have a cappuccino.”
“We only serve tea.”
Chai tea and crumpets. FYI: Those are not actually crumpets.
I felt like the guy who walks into the neighborhood mom n’ pop coffee shop and asks for a frappuccino or a local eat-at-joe’s diner and asked for a “Big Mac.” Fact of the matter is I hadn’t mistook The Tea Zone for a coffee shop as much I had actually mistook the sound of a blender for the sound of an espresso machine. I was corrected simply, and without offense. None was necessary, since their menu speaks for itself: the Tea Zone does as much with tea than all but the most resourceful coffee shops do with coffee…and the food is pretty good too.
Now, I have no issues with Starbucks, but when you’re serving coffee to a healthy chunk of the developed world, you’ve got to make certain compromises with flavor. Not being a seasoned tea consumer, I opted for a chai—the tea everyone can agree on—and I got a chai. Comparing the Tea Zone chai to a Starbucks chai is like comparing orange juice to orange kool-aid. So this is what chai tea tastes like when it’s not beating you over the head with flavor. Perhaps it’s a fine print thing. Does Starbucks ever really say they’re serving you chai tea, or are you getting chai drink?
I guess you all probably wanted to see the swank in the back. Sorry, I like being near windows.
But I digress. If you come for the tea, stay for the vibe. All of my visits to the Tea Zone thus far have been business-related (please tip the musicians, by the way), but if I found myself in downtown Portland and in the mood to sip tea lattes while debating the aesthetics of neo-proto-post modernism with my art history grad-student associates more often I’d probably drop in regularly. The front end has limited seating, but if you’re there for the vibe you’ll want to head to Camellia Lounge in the rear anyways. They’ve got a full bar, some fantastic artwork, and much more seating in the lounge, and they host an assortment of live music six nights a week with a sweet jazz jam on Tuesday nights.
In short, if you really like tea or if you want to feel pretentious but don’t have a Mac Book Pro, treat yourself to a visit. I love the place, but how can you not feel high falutin’ when you’re served a glass of tea, a mini tea kettle, and a mini hourglass to tell you when your tea is ready? There’s also the impeccably dressed gaggle of twenty-somethings behind you sipping fresh mojitos which made me self-conscious about busting out my recently purchased Marvel Secret War graphic novel.
Sigh. I should have brought my Machiavelli biography and moleskine notebook.
Bang! Pow! Krakow!
February 16, 2010
Ah, the ER. Complete with panic button.
I’ve been in and out of commission pretty regularly for the past three weeks, and still am to some extent. During this extended recovery period, I’ve been told by my doctors (separately) “drink lots of caffeine” “avoid caffeine” and “the amount of caffeine you drink shouldn’t matter.” Thanks, that’s very helpful. It’s strange. I’ve discovered that when you have a stabbing headache for eight days straight, suddenly not having said headache can be a frightening and disorienting experience. Granted, I still wasn’t thrilled when it came back.
Anyways, in times of suffering, you remember the good times. So let me share one with you that I had last month.
Reuben sandwich with coleslaw, just like Call of the Canyon used to make...better.
Under the gaudy neon of the Safari Casino, Krakow Cafe and Pub chills right off of Interstate Avenue. Effortlessly eclectic, Krakow is both “not merely a coffee shop” and “entirely a coffee shop.” It also wears the New-York-style-café-and-bistro hat, complete with European cuisine including kielbasa, pierogis, spinach caprese, italianos, and an assortment of desserts as well. Along with the international food selection, Krakow serves up an international beer selection for the alcohol-inclined. Incorporating the best of the Polish deli experience, it actually evoked memories of the New York deli (not delicatessen, mind you) but managed to satisfy my ever present longing for a Northwest coffee shop (but not a café, mind you).
Where in the world have Krakow customers been? I put my pin in Mandalay, Myanmar.
For all the praise, you’d think we’d be talking about some kind of sleek low-grade Panera. Truth is, while Krakow has a laundry list of good points, it passes with flying colors while not necessarily excelling at anything in particular. The food was appetizing, but not fantastic. Prices were reasonable, but not cheap. The coffee was good, but not gourmet. The staff was friendly, but not chipper. The atmosphere was cozy, but not chic. The layout was roomy, but not expansive. The décor is quirky, but not off-beat. They give you a vibe, but not an experience.
Yes, you're reading that right: a Katarina Witt look-alike contest flyer. Krakow, where have you been all my life?
The buzz around the interwebs seems to indicate the Krakow isn’t more than a few years old, which surprises me since the place seems so well-adjusted. It’s like that guy in high school who got elected Homecoming King purely by virtue of being “a really nice guy.” Offering live music and comedy nights, a big-screen tv to watch the Blazers game, and a discount for customers with laptop computers represent the kind of accommodations that make Krakow such a swell place. The Katarina Witt look-alike contest, on the other hand, well that’s just awesome.
(UrbanSpoon rocks!)
“I don’t care for Paris.”
January 15, 2010
“You can’t get away from yourself by moving from one place to another. There’s nothing to that.”
Café Aroma in Yangon, Myanmar
Almost a year ago, my life took a five-week detour to Southeast Asia. The blog basically took a hiatus for five weeks and restarted with my only mention of the trip being a post about a dream I later had about Fiji. I had posted plenty on the band’s travel blog, and I returned with little else to say about the experience. As indicated many times, I do not romanticize travel and I look forward to the day when I’m too much of a curmudgeon to step on a plane. While I’m neither a tourist nor an adventurer, I did have a wonderful trip and brought back two truly personally fulfilling moments. The first I chronicled here, and the second happened while perusing the shops near my hotel in Yangon, Myanmar.
Untitled impressionist painting. Author unknown.
After hitting up the bookstores and a few clothing shops, I came across a small shop selling original art works. I greeted whom I thought to be owner, a young woman, and browsed for a few minutes. As I thumbed through some miniature pieces, the young woman approached, pointed at the collection and quietly said “impressionist.” When I asked if they were her works, she said no and said she studied with a local artist, and that the paintings were his work. She told me she had no paintings for sale, but her preferred style was realism. We chatted for a few moments about art styles and I drew upon my limited knowledge of art history to make conversation. She seemed happy to share what she knew, and I later wondered how often she had the opportunity to discuss art with someone besides her teacher. I browsed for a bit longer before eventually coming across one striking piece whose color scheme made it stand out from the others. I bought the piece for the marked price—five dollars—and would later regret both not buying more and not paying more.
I met a lot of people on my trip, and I regret that I only really connected with a handful. I set foot in cities I never would have ever thought to visit, yet it didn’t change that it was always my foot. That fact did not necessarily take away from the trip as much as it affirmed that I was looking for the same things abroad that I looked for on a daily basis—meaningful connections, coffee shops, and spacious bathrooms.
“If you went there the way you feel now it would be exactly the same.”
-Jake Barnes
“…a chance to escape and treat [yourself] to something special.”
January 4, 2010
I'm totally feeling the positive difference being made in my life. The barista made me a latte instead of a wet capp, by the way.
I had some time to kill and stopped into one of them swanky coffee establishments that the greater Tacoma area seems to be a big fan of. Cutters Point sells on the glitz and polish, following the high ceiling (and highfalutin’) decorative motif that fell backwards out of a Pottery Barn truck. I’m tossing around the idea of converting my dining room into a Cutters Point location, so I gave their franchising brochure a looksee:
The Cutters Point coffee shops are unique. The use of rich mahogany wood and accents in each shop helps create a nautical theme unique for each town or location.
Look, guys, I hate to be the one to break it to you, but you’ve got to push the envelope pretty far to be unique, especially in the Pacific Northwest. Your use of mahogany wood is not unique (see: Forza. Or Tully’s), and if you’re using it in each shop in every town, how the hell is it unique?
We train all our staff to remember the names and favorite drinks of the regular customers –with the goal of making every customer a regular.
I quote one of my favorite college professors who was disinclined to give me a high-five if I passed my comprehensive exams on the first try: “I’m not going to reward you for merely doing what you are expected to do.” I can understand that perhaps not every coffee shop stipulates that their baristas memorize names, but it’s the type of business where regulars are part of the game. The worst baristas I’ve encountered remembered me after a few visits, and typically had some idea what I was going to order.
Every Cutters Point store offers our own line of hats, shirts and custom products. This serves as a marketing tool as well as providing quality products for our customers.
I must admit, they did have a pretty big wall of crap. I’m not sure why I’m so annoyed about their mentioning hats. Why not mugs? Or tumblers? Who the hell buys a hat at a franchise coffee shop?
We only have to look at giants like Starbucks to see the trends. Several years ago it would be unheard of for a retailer to open a store across the street from one of their already successful locations. Today, we see this all the time.
Read: We’ve got comfy chairs and shiny stuff. Bring it, Starbucks.
Cutters Point coffee shop offers fresh brewed coffee and premium hot and cold espresso drinks. Plus, most shops offer a wide variety of baked goods which include muffins, pastries and cookies.
Your pastries suck, by the way. I’m just sayin’.
“When people think you’re dying, they really, really listen to you, instead of just…”
December 14, 2009
Have I seen this place before?
I chilled in the cleverly named Ugly Mug before a lax Wednesday night gig at Burdigala Wines. In spite of their following the PDX coffee shop paradigm to a tee (chalkboard menu, Stumptown coffee, secondhand furniture, local artwork, microbrew, kooky color scheme, free Wi-Fi, vegan menu, *yaaaaaaawwwwn*), I had a pleasant stay. I was there for nearly two hours and didn’t see one Mac (well, except mine). They are nice enough to provide power strips for laptop users, which, in my experience, is a sign of cafempathy. They did get into the spirit of the season with a community diorama auction, with proceeds going to a local charity. In this season, and particularly in this day and age, it’s nice to little snatches of humanity as we gradually lose touch with physical community. Of course, it’s also difficult to build a diorama as a Facebook group.
Dioramas: because anything that ends in "o rama" must be awesome.
As I sit back and proofread my latest stroll through blogsville, I realize two things. First, I need to stop making up words and use a thesaurus. Secondly, it doesn’t take a college level of critical analysis to realize that my “reviews” are short on criticism and long on complain-ism. This would trouble me more if it weren’t for the fact that this is a blog, which is essentially a web surfer’s license to rant. I recently read William Deresiewicz’ article “Faux Friendship,” which examines the new phenomenon of the social network “friend.” While I do not necessarily fall in line with Deresiewicz’ nostalgia for old world friendship, his article confronts one of the most common misconceptions about the world of Web 2.0. Web 2.0 does not foster collaboration, it fosters self-obsession with collaboration and correspondence as mere byproducts.
Hm, I think I think this post got derailed a bit. Look, a new Coupland book!
As a Facebook “user” with my privacy settings set to ultra-paranoid, it’s been some time since I’ve actually logged in and participated in any real facility. The heyday of my Facebook activity was when I was actually having face-to-face contact with most of the people I was “friended” with (to differentiate from “friends with”). I’ve found that my Facebook interactions merely reflect my actual interactions, in the sense that the only people I send messages to are people I would otherwise be communicating with personally. What is sad is that if it weren’t for the convenience of Facebook, email, or text messages, I might actually be calling them.
Coffee & cake at the Ugly Mug
Unfortunately, the issue of self-obsession goes far beyond our social networking habits. Now Google and Yahoo are returning Twitter and MySpace feeds as search results, under the guise of “real-time” search. I’m reminded of an in-class exercise in which students dissected the Google privacy policy, uncovering the not-so-subtle way that the information age erodes privacy standards under the guise of “improving service.” I don’t believe search engines are out to get us, we’re out to get ourselves, literally. Real-time search gives our information age data-diet what it’s been craving the most—a healthy dose of “us.”
Of course, I could make the same excuse for self-obsession that I made for friendship. As the world changes, it’s no stretch that the words that describe it would change along with it. Perhaps “selfishness” needs redefinition. How about selffriendness?
“…instead of just waiting for their turn to speak.”
“I agree to the Terms of Service and Acceptable Use Policy.”
December 7, 2009
In most cases, paying for coffee is silly.
Eat healthy, for twice the price of normal healthy.
I don’t pay for Starbucks coffee. I don’t pay for Tully’s coffee either. I don’t pay for Seattle’s Best coffee, Forza coffee, or Stumptown coffee. There are coffee shops that do actually sell me on their coffee, but for the most part I’m paying everything but the coffee. At Marcell’s it’s the architecture, at Fresh Pot it was the Powell’s bookstore adjacent to it, at Mon Ami it’s the knowledge that I’ll run into someone I know, at Cosmo’s it was the ability to fall asleep in a food establishment, and at Starbucks I’m paying for the internet that I refuse to pay for.
It’s true, actually. I actually go to Starbucks quite frequently because it’s the one coffee shop I can go to escape the distraction of internet access. Starbucks is one of the few places that charges for internet—and they have good reason to. If people are willing to pay for it, why give it away for free? Starbucks wasn’t the first coffee franchise just like Michael Jordan wasn’t the first basketball star, yet Starbucks made paying $4.00 for fancy coffee as fashionable as paying $125 for fancy shoes. It’s not a bad thing, it’s just their shtick. If you like spending money (or if you like frappuccino), then Starbucks just may be the place for you.
Starbucks offers iTunes free music downloads.
For example, If I spend $15 (lets say I come in with a friend and we both have a sandwich and an espresso drink, my treat), they’ll give me a holiday CD and donate $1 to fighting AIDS in Africa. The option is attractive, since I’ll need some form of karma condolence for spending $15 in a coffee shop. Today, for the $3.68 I spent on a 12 oz. “tall” coffee and a glorious apple fritter, and I got three complimentary music downloads for my trouble. Then again, I guess I could have just walked in and taken those.
The possibilities only get crazier from there. I can get mugs, instant coffee, cup-shaped mugs, CDs, chocolate-covered espresso beans in small paper mugs, espresso machines, mug-shaped cups, sandwiches, whole beans (packaged in mugs), coffee tumblers, and mug-shaped Christmas ornaments ($4.95 each!). It’s like they have their own rule of retail: you’re in the clear as long as the absurdity of product for sale eclipses absurdity of the sale price.
Our Main St. Starbucks team.
I’ve never had a problem with Starbucks, and until they enter phase two of their dastardly plot I don’t expect to take issue with them anytime soon. They take good care of their employees, and spearheaded the trend of putting coffee perpetually within arm’s reach. Lord knows they’re far from perfect, but I’m not asking for perfect. I’m simply asking for them to continue charging $3.99 for two hours of internet—or $19.99 for a month, as well as access to tens of thousands of AT&T Wi-Fi hotspots worldwide!
“Failure to responsibly manage the use of the Service(s) obtained from AT&T may be cause for termination of Service(s) to you and, depending upon the terms under which you acquired your Service(s), could lead to the imposition of early termination fees.”
Home is where the hotte is.
December 3, 2009
I hope someone got a bonus for coming up with "Hotte Latte"
So I returned home for the holidays to make the discovery that yet another bikini coffee hut has emerged in Lakewood with the addition conversion of Hotte Latte (KD’z Espresso) on Gravelly Lake Dr. This now makes two on a less than half-mile stretch of Gravelly Lake Drive, and four in a 1.5 mile radius. Classy!
While I’ve been a coffee shop bum for a good portion of my life, I’ve been a bookstore bum for significantly longer. My bookstore loitering goes back to elementary school, when I used to hang around the B. Dalton Bookstore in the Lakewood Mall where my mom worked in the evening. When B. Dalton–and eventually the Lakewood Mall–went the way of the dodo, I eventually migrated my loitering to the hip and happening new Barnes & Noble (now with free WiFi!) in the late ’90s.
The store. The myth. The legend.
The Lakewood Barnes and Noble was officially my very first coffee shop, and I’ve been a loyal patron since it absorbed the Lakewood Mall B. Dalton bookstore. Actually, I wouldn’t say “patron” as much as “cousin.” I can point out where the humor section was located spanning back five store re-designs, and recall the day I discovered the magic of cinnamon twists. It’s also where I fell in love with graphic novels, bought countless Christmas gifts, reunited with long lost friends classmates, and was the site of the first and only time I ever asked anyone on a date (asked a barista out for coffee).
Lately I’ve branched out to check out some Lakewood’s other coffee offerings. I had initially not given Forza a fighting chance. In the last ten years they’ve thrived and expanded in the greater Puget Sound area. I’ve only had a chance to stop by their Bridgeport Way location for a cup o’ joe on the way out of town, and I was intrigued by their “relaxed atmosphere of dark African mahogany wood, Italian
All that and flat panel tvs? Now they're just showing off.
porcelain tiled floors and comfortable chairs near a warm fireplace.” I didn’t stay, but if I did I imagine it would be like like an afternoon of light coffee and masterpiece theatre. I’ve not decided whether or not the knowledge that there are nearly two dozen afro-mahoga-Italia-porcea-firepla- comfy-chair locations makes it lose a bit of it’s luster. Then again, as we all know I’m not above being reined in by marketing.
If you’re feeling at all generous this holiday season, please consider a donation to the support the families of the rather horrific incident of violence at a Lakewood-area Forza. This kind of thing shouldn’t happen anywhere, let alone a coffee shop.
“Hey what’s the mileage on that hybrid car?”
November 25, 2009
I don't want to be that guy, but someone needs to tell them about their little spelling snafu.
I’ve been told many times that Portlanders seem to have a certain, lets say, “hatred” of Californians moving to their beloved city. I find this somewhat strange since Portland essentially wishes it was San Francisco and since California has been quietly plucking coffee-related ideas from their Northwest neighbors. Okay, okay, so California isn’t copying the Northwest, but It’s just interesting to see a place like the koffi cafe in Palm Springs being praised for providing the the standard amenities that should be found any non-franchise coffee shop. Locally roasted coffee, sustainability, free WiFi, artwork by local artists on the walls. Did I somehow get on a plane for two hours only to land back in the the Northwest?
Sippin' my berry tea thing next to the "pond." Am I with it or what?
No, because this place is clean. They’ve also got this trendy misspelling + lowercase letters thing going on that I’m not sure I’m cool with. Whereas in New York and Vegas they frequently miss the mark entirely, California takes the standard coffee shop core and dresses it up like a UCLA art history graduate student. Even my darling Elevated Coffee doesn’t look this good, and that’s about the classiest damned coffee shop in the greater Northeast Portland area. Not only that, but the folks chillaxin with their MacBook Pros in the koffi cafe actually dress like they could afford them. In the words of Mark Whalberg: “What’s that all about?”
Californians needs to take lessons on being degenerate from Portlanders. Pretentiousness doesn’t just sell itself.
Anyways, I’m taking my MacBook over to Tully’s and getting a Green Tea Latte to sip while I work on my novel. Ciao.
“Dolce Gabbana, don’t you know
Soy latte, shade-grown”
-Hot Buttered Rum
Enter the tiger.
November 18, 2009
Advertising works...at least on me.
With two days off last week, a weekend trip to see some old friends get married, and a new Douglas Coupland novel hitting the shelves, I was hard pressed to imagine how the week could get any better. Enter the Paper Tiger.
Paper Tiger Coffee (on the corner of Evergreen & Grand) reminds me of a miniaturized version of Albina Press on Hawthorne, but with more character–not to mention a 1940s cash register. It’s quirky, humble, and personable which means its the kind of place I’ll go when I have a lot of work to do and need to be distracted from doing it. Adding to the character are a manual typewriter, used books for sale (I picked up a copy of Miles at a bargain-bin price. Let’s call that a win), and hand-labeled bags of beans personally roasted by the owner. Of course, they have the essential NW trifecta of chalkboard menus, free WiFi, and local artwork on display, but missing one of those things would be like having no front door.
Oh, and the cappuccino was a thing of beauty.
