It's a helluva town. I know, I know. So does that make it sacrilege to drink Starbucks? Not even a little bit. Pretty much every corner in the city is a quality people-watching spot, and you'll be hard pressed to find more, um, "interesting" people anywhere in the world. So I'll visit the green mermaid a time or two. Undoubtedly the classiest person I've met in any New York Starbucks was this puppy I met on 35th and 8th.
She just be chillin'. Waitin' on that salted caramel mocha.
But there are so many more beautiful nook-and-cranny spots in this city! And I don't think I ended up in ANY of them! Nope, our show rehearses in midtown, so most of our day is spent in that loudest, smelliest, most cramped part of Manhattan where homeless crazies are practicing their best lines, praying to get listed on Overheard In New York (and best of luck to them all).
I did get to visit with some friends at Caffe Benne. Anyone familiar with this place will know that it's no better than Starbucks as far as it's weed-like growth, popping up all over the place. What it DOES have in it's favor is a catchy little jingle that plays every hour (which someone was paid to write - I repeat, someone was paid to write this - I don't understand the business of jingles). But in the style of New Years Resolutions, I've decided not to self-shame over my acceptance of commercialized coffee. I'll drink my hazelnut lattes and be entirely satisfied that they taste the same as every other hazelnut latte I've ever had, because the lovely, slightly rude, and tremendously bored barista simply followed the directions on the side of the espresso machine.
Come on, mon petit hipsters, don't pretend you weren't hungry.
Remember when I told you that my original bag was tea? I'm definitely trying to re-establish that. And New York City was there for me all the way.
Need it fast? Argo Tea (your Starbucks of the brewed leaf) - once, at the Argo in Columbus Circle, a homeless man told me I had great legs. I'm not going to lie to you, it made my day.
Want it good? Bosie Tea Parlor in SoHo. Every time I go there for a liquid dinner (my favorite kind), I end up closing the place down, and without fail the counter girls have always offered me free pastries as they close up. I hope I haven't just given up one of my great secrets. Listen, don't just show up at 9:45 and expect free brioche! I invested four hours of tea-talk for those little crumpets. Back off.
Want to get all sugar-plum-fairy about it? (I knew you did.) Alice's Tea Cup on the Upper West Side. Now, more than likely, instead of fending off tutu-ed six year olds waving wands and not actually drinking anything stronger than hot sugar water, you'll actually be butting elbows with aging socialites having a leisurely salad lunch, or drinking tea with a tiered sandwich service, which they laugh over, as you stare from your corner and see only a $60 price tag on their plates. This being said, the tea is good. And I've got an Alice affinity, I'm not ashamed to admit it. So friends and I get all gaga every once in a while for ceramic cups - I'm telling you, it makes your tea taste so much better, to be drinking out of a tea cup. Just say it out loud. "Tea cup". It's onomatopoetic in a way. It forces your speech out with strength and delicacy.
One of these scones was going to be saved for breakfast the next day.
I'll let you decide what actually became of it.
Now, I get it. You've been to the city. I'm not telling you about anything you don't know. But I'm not gonna argue - I believe successful establishments are just that: successful. And for good reason, whether it be marketing or product or both. Good for them. Now the choice is ours.
One last thought I'd like to share - I've never really been that person to embrace the fall. Maybe it's my Californian upbringing, where seasons are more like a concept that an actual change in weather patterns. Fall to me was always construction-paper-leaves stapled to a classroom wall, not warm fires or hot cocoa or any of that tactile nonsense. So generally when friends' pupils go all dilated at the sight of the season's first pumpkin spice latte, I scoff. Because IF YOU LOVE PUMPKIN SO MUCH WHY DON'T YOU JUST DRINK IT ALL YEAR ROUND?!
Well, this happened last week:
If you order it by just saying "PSL", you've gone too far.
So, to add to my list of New Years resolutions (which, I understand, I'm making in September, but so be it), I thought I'd try to embrace my inner fall-fanatic. If you bring some blankets and meet me by the fire, we can draw those little hand-turkeys. Cause it's all or nothing, baby.
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