Cafehop.com — Café hopping in New York City

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

This sweet cluttered bakery in Nolita is everything French — even the service is, shall we say, laissez faire.

I knew that even though my feet may require amputation from pounding 30-plus blocks of frozen sidewalks (I have to remember to wear two pairs of socks!), it was worth finding this place where they cram the patrons into what should rightfully be the trash room. Don’t get me wrong — it’s a profoundly charming trash room. Glazed red brick walls, austere busts of unknown (to me) Frenchmen, and a jumble of tables and chairs make for a really nice place to sit. Unruly but plain and therefore dignified plants guard the alley-view windows.

The snotty waiter took our order — Mario had his usual espresso, but I spied a café au lait at the top of the menu and went for that. In between a regular coffee and a latte, it’s for times when you just can’t decide. I also ordered an almond croissant.

This dense, oven-fresh almond croissant might be one of the top ten best pieces of pastry I have ever consumed. The light pressure exerted to tear it in half (to share with Mario) forced the butter that saturated the pastry to well up in the indentation left by my thumb. It left my fingers pleasantly slick and marzipan-scented. This is such a “Good Thing.”

I would have ordered another coffee, which was very good, but the waiter was too busy not waiting on us. As it got later we both had to get back to work and chased him down for our check.

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Ceci Cela Patisserie, 55 Spring Street (also 166 Chambers Street), Manhattan

Mon-Sat 7am-10pm | Sunday 8am-8pm