Cafehop.com — Café hopping in New York City

Cookie image yoinked from gothamist — I couldn’t be bothered to take a picture of this dump myself.

There’s a reason we call this place Shitty Bakery. Mario’s office used to be around the corner, so it was a convenient place for us to meet when I lived on 23rd. There is rarely anywhere to sit and the obscenely high ceilings – or is it the annoyingly small tables? — give City Bakery an uncomfortable atmosphere. The coffee is solidly mediocre, the staff is impatient, and the ordering setup is confusing and a bit stressful. I hear the salad bar is $13/lb — that’s some expensive grilled asparagus. In fact, everything is expensive, especially their admittedly magnificent chocolate chip cookies. These cookies are the only reason to come to this dark, automatish place crammed to the gills with students pretending to study. They’re chewy and crispy at the same time, have just enough (read: a ton) chocolate chips, and are pretty big — but they are $3, so with a coffee don’t expect to leave here without dropping $6-7. I can get lunch for that if I’m creative. Big bucks to eat in the shadow of the ever-present siodewalk scaffolding.

The cookie — a “Good Thing” — saves this place from a “Not Good at All” rating. Ugh, even their website is annoying.

City Bakery, 3 W 18th Street, Manhattan

The lesson here might be to start with low expectations. Mario took me to the Alessi store in Soho to show me just how undrinkable the espresso at their in-store café, Joe, was. The wispy shred of boy (how do his organs fit in a six-inch-wide torso!?) that manned (I use this word loosely) the machine made art of twirling back and forth from his coffee contraption to the counter where he assembled our coffee setup, and placed our tiny espresso spoons just so. I particularly liked the spoons.

The café is not comfortable — it’s too ultramodern and slick and bright and smooth to be able to chill out and drink your joe. As a store selling weird-looking Italian kitchen items and objets, the aesthetic is great. As we sat, backs rigid, on the shiny recessed benches and drank our coffee — which turned out, despite Mario’s previous experience, to be pretty good — another mop-headed attendant waited to recover our empty cups. When Mario explained he still had a little left, Mophead lectured him on the importance of drinking freshly-pulled espresso in three hot gulps. I wasn’t looking but I’m sure Mario made a face.

This is not a place to visit unless it’s bitterly cold outside and you’re within 100 feet. Or maybe if you absolutely have to have coffee and you can’t wait another 2 minutes to find another café. The espresso is fine but no better than any other decent place, the atmosphere rates our first “depressing,” and please, I do not need to be talked down to by the help.

Joe, the Art of Coffee at Alessi, 130 Greene Street, Manhattan

Mon-Fri 7am-7pm | Sat 8am-7pm | Sun 8am-6pm

We normally avoid this place even though it’s half a block from Mario’s office. Actually, maybe because it’s so close — it’s packed to the gills with NYU students on their laptops. The place even has a 15 foot long power strip so EVERYONE can plug their computers in. We walk in, look for two empty seats, and usually finding none we head out. This time we stopped in, only because it was cold out and we wanted to warm up.

I ordered two espressos as Mario sat down. I also grabbed a peanut butter cookie and a cider. I brought all our goodies to the table, and knowing Mario would be offended by the irreverent light blue of the demitasse cup I held in my left hand, gave him the off white one in my right. Sure enough, when I mentioned I liked the blue, and it was like my light green set at home, he said something to the effect that he thought it too untraditional. Standard white for him, thanks, or a slight variation thereof. In keeping with ettiquette, Mario showed off his refined “Saddam pose” — holding the cup by the handle while making sure to keep his palm-down hand underneath.

The espresso at Think is good. The cookie, not so good. Very, very dry; not very peanut-buttery. Cider, fine. It’s a cool place to hang out, but everyone else thinks so, too, so good luck grabbing a spot.

Think,  248 Mercer Street, Manhattan

Mon-Fri 7am-12am | Sat-Sun 8:30am-12am

Mario heard about The Tasting Room from another publication last week, so he recommended we stop by, since we were in the EV anyhow to eat at Momofuku (drool). It’s not in the greatest location for aesthetics – I hate looking at the institutional primary hues of municipal playgrounds — and being more LES than EV, it’s not terribly convenient either. But if you’re an espresso buff, this is your place.

Yeah, it’s $2.50 a pop and the barista takes for, like, ever to serve the coffee, but it’s not without justification. With each order, she put the hopper on the grinder, and ground the beans fresh for our shots. She loaded the grounds and delicately placed small, thick ceramic tazzine under the spouts to catch the syrupy reddish strands of espresso. Then she actually served us at the table, demitasse spoons balanced on the little saucers, water on the side.

I haven’t had better espresso in Manhattan — this place is a close second only to Café al Mercato in The Bronx. It was bursting with a bittersweet orange undertaste I have never experienced, and I think it was all the barista’s doing — she mentioned that she had just been “tinkering with the blend.” She really knew her stuff, and was generous with information about the startlingly gorgeous machine: its origin, who made it, its inner workings and even its cost.

This is a place where a real art is practiced and perfected, and it should not go unnoticed. The warm, diminutive space (which actually seems to be primarily a wine tasting bar) should be a destination for the espresso obsessed.

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The Tasting Room Wine Bar & Cafe, 72 East First Street, Manhattan

Mon-Fri 7am-12am | Sat-Sun 9am-12am