Café Angelique, Just What It Sounds Like
I was first here months ago, one day when Mario suddenly recalled its existence and steered us over. This place is saturated with the feeling of the 1920s (or at least as I imagine it) — the streamlined pre-deco radiators, the octagon-tiled floors, and the period iron and wood of the storefront itself. The huge plate-glass windows make the place a scintillating box of sunlight on almost any day. The quaintness of it all, even the tight arrangement of the tables and chairs make me happy just opening the door. There are always newspapers and magazines strewn about random tables, just in case you forgot your own and plan to stay a while.
The coffee doesn’t stand up to the atmosphere, unfortunately. It’s very acidic and has an odd flavor — nothing a bunch of cream and sugar can’t drown out but not the most pleasant experience. It is, however, served with a little piece of chocolate on the saucer, a touch I appreciate even when I really don’t feel like mucking my mouth up with a fat wad of candy. In January, Mario got me a piece of cake to celebrate my 27th birthday — chocolate mousse. He promised he’d eat more than he did and I of course ended up eating most of it. It was great but once we left it felt like a bomb had been dropped in my belly.
I once had a ham and cheese croissant that was pretty good.
It seems the place is owned by Israelis — there are burekas and shakshuka on the menu, and often a few of the patrons are speaking Hebrew.
It rates only a “Decent” because while the atmosphere is great, the food is pretty good, and the service is also great, the coffee is frankly crap and this is a café blog. It’s also a place I’d consider a “Haunt” if I lived within a block, if just because it’s so nice to just sit there and read the paper in the sun.
Café Angelique, 49 Grove Street (also 68 Bleecker St), Manhattan