Chocolate Bar
It all begins with an idea.
17 Rue Thouret, 76000 Rouen, France
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Oh, to catch you in a spider’s web of sugar’s airborne molecular structure. Even if you wanted to walk past this cafe without noticing it, even if The French Coffee Spot right across the street wanted to compete with it, the mural of along its Rue Emile Verhaeren face and its unconventional easel crowning the corner—drawing attention away from the Parlement de Normandie’s south-west side—you couldn’t. With a displayed (and English) slogan “Come to the sweet side,” an inoffensive Star Wars parallel, this place of dessert and more offers chairs on the streets, high stools one step in on their unlatched porch, and booths and stools in numerous arrangement, impossible to imagine as ever fully inhabited. If the mural outside—with Queen Elizabeth II and Marilyn Monroe jubilantly paired with pink-frosted, sprinkled donuts, and Dali, Will Smith, Freud, and the Mona Lisa (among others) accompanied by some whipped cream drinks—didn’t hint at the theatrics, you quickly catch on. The support pillars and back wall are drenched in white illustration, everything from coffee beans, pancakes, and popsicles to a couple of LEGOs on a coffee date, a monk steeping in his own tea, and (believe it or not) Snoopy. And to say that these surfaces, chock-full of creative juices, act as the propellers of this amusing chocolate transport, you’d find yourself thinking again. They are in fact but mere propellant. The canvasses of movie posters—Rafiki holding up a frappe to the burnt orange African sky is what I will be telling my kids is the Lion King—and iconic images reimagined with a Chocolate Bar spin break up the wall of skinny, pewter brick while a textureless, opposing wall is brought alive by canvasses of hip-hop versions of Nelson Mandela and Gandhi and riffs on a range of famous figures (Amy Winehouse as Wonder Woman, anyone?). The menu boards are more flat and expressionless. “One American cookie and one brownie please,” a man ordered in English, a little example of how this lack of whimsy manifests. However, find me another cafe with the confidence (or hubris) to play “Mmm Mmm Mmm Mmm” by The Crash Test Dummies, followed by Motown sounds, ending with “I Need a Girl (Pt. 1)” by DIddy, Loon, and Usher. I’ll wait while enjoying each sip of the sweet side.
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Drink: Espresso
It’s strangely bland? While it pulled a bit on the sour side, that’s pretty much it on flavor. There was a list of origins at the front, but I couldn’t figure out in the moment what that was for since I didn’t see filtered coffee on the menu. Upon later inspection, they have a “GRAND ORIGINE” item on their menu which I think is where the origins come in. Unfortunately, this espresso shot does begin to adopt a stale taste in its cooled state. The sugar said Les Torrefacteurs Normands, however I can’t be sure that they use espresso from these folks that are stationed just down the road. I’d say drink it fast and do not get it as a milk beverage.
Hot Chocolate (Traditionnel)
It’s not a blow-your-mind take on the classic, what they call traditionnel, but every sip bears a chocolate taste. I think I was spoiled by Boutique Chocolats LINDT in Lyon. Nevertheless, this hot chocolate comes up for chocolatey air on every sip. It won’t disappoint as long as you approach it reasonably.
•••/•••
Price: Espresso=1.5€; Hot Chocolate (Traditionnel)=4.5€
Hours: Monday–Friday {12–19}; Saturday {9:30–19}; Sunday {CLOSED}
✓ WIFI*
Extra Notes:
*For some reason, I got an error message when I tried to use WhatsApp. It said I couldn’t receive messages. In other words, the Internet has some limitations.
Boulangerie Pâtisserie “Le Fournil Couronnais”
It all begins with an idea.
60 Rue de la Pierre d'État, 76650 Petit-Couronne, France
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There’s nothing expressly wrong with this bakery-barely cafe (the Zpressa PODS machine for Cafes Richard and cute, corresponding list of coffee possibilities gets it there), but there is no effort to keep you here. Not saying that this retention is part of the “cafe criteria,” however it’s the complete inability to stick around that is striking. There is not one chair (inside or outside) or even a standing table. The more accurate description for this place is a bakery passageway, carved out of the larger building’s rez-de-chaussee. The misty blue wall color backgrounding the pastry case does invite, like the dream of free-falling through the sky might, but it’s definitely take the boule blanche, nutella or speculoos paille, and/or several choux craquelin (the deal on the paper taped to the glass announces that the more you buy, the more you get) and go. Where? I don’t know. While I’d put forth just home, the crafty fish on sticks in the window, accompanied on “sand” (creatively reimagined burlap) by shells—mini conch and cone to name a few—brings the blue from the back to the front making a case for finding water, heading to the river. That’s it—it’s not a sky; it’s a sea. This bakery is a croissant canal, a quick swim ensuite.
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Drink: Café (grande)
It was drinkable in the moment, yes. I knew what I was getting with Cafes Richard and her having to plug in the machine for me…yet, awareness can only do so much. Nothing could have prepared me for its taste the next day. MY god, it was horrific. Plug your nose and toss this espresso-inspired volume back (and preferably with something overpoweringly sweet). You have less than 24 hours. Good luck.
••
Food: Pain aux amandes (almond croissant)
Honestly? I hated it. It wasn’t inedible which earns it at least a point, and it gets two points because of the size. But, it just tasted straight up like sugar and was chewy…like, gum chewy.
Price: Café=1.5€; Pain aux amandes=2.1€
Hours: Monday–Friday {6:30–19:30}; Saturday {7–13}; Sunday {CLOSED}
Paname Tap House (CDG)
It all begins with an idea.
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If ever there was a time that required fashioning a counter in a futuristic, railway station, I’d look no further than this airport bar. And yes, it is a bar. But you know what else? It may have been 10:40, but that doesn’t mean that they needed to have the TV screen menu just showing “Boissons Chaudes” (with the occasional flip to artsy allusions to bar life) and to have the La Strada, decorated in the jolliest set of coffee mugs I’ve ever seen (perhaps in tow with Choopy’s in Antibes) front and center. Nevertheless, someone didn’t subvert need for desire: coffee and pastry are need, beer and wine are desire. Besides, you’ve already survived waded through the desirous waters by emerging from the extime DUTY FREE PARIS tunnel of temptation. After all that walking and all that security, all there’s left to do (now smelling like whatever was spritzed on to tester strips as you passed through) is to refuel, that’s caffeine and carbs. It’s circular bar wall and halo of vertical slats mimic Terminal 2’s grand flat ceiling fixture. To be honest, this light, interrupted only by decorous wrought iron detailing, looks like the bottom of a cartoon UFO. Interestingly, if you study the bar a bit more, its halo—also accented with lime light—isn’t suspended, but supported by black metal rods bloom out from its center, in an industrialized form reminiscent of a morning glory. While this version of the flower is stripped of its petals, the structure of a corolla still beckons light and welcomes all who journey. This Paris original, with hardworking staff constantly creating radii and sipping souls gathered round, offers an often untapped experience: a pause during that transient moment when you’re beamed down and have to choose which direction to turn.
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Drink: Espresso
The most important thing is that I didn’t want to spit it out. I wouldn’t have been surprised if I’d wanted to. A cardinal rule: no trust can be place in airport coffee. That is not to say that airport coffee can’t be good, but it’s an airport which means they have a secure and never ending customer base. Tack on the fact that they will probably never seen you again (unlike a community cafe) and the incentive to perform is just not there. The menu screen did have an interesting pronouncement on it, however:
“Notre cafe est torrefie de facon artisanale en Ile de France et provient d’une agriculture ecologique.”
“Our coffee is roasted in France and comes from an ecological agriculture.”
Do with this information what you will, but I didn’t catch which coffee they’re using so I can’t confirm it. What you don’t have to worry about with this (my guess would be Brazilian) coffee is that it is dosed in real time from the Anfim grinder, and the espresso produced has a decent crema and does not assault the palate.
•••
Price: Espresso=2.95€
Hours: Everyday {8–22}*
*As I say with all airports, I can’t fully confirm the hours. All I can be certain of is that it is open and serving coffee at 10:40 on a Tuesday.
✓ WIFI
Extra Notes:
After reading their website I discovered that this location just opened this year! I’m one of the first (in the grand scheme of millions that will) to ever visit it.
Brulerie de Montrouge
It all begins with an idea.
73 Av. de la République, 92120 Montrouge, France
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When a gust of wind rushes through a forest, catches every leaf, stem, and dislodged petal, twig, and bud, there’s a calm that this seemingly universal rustle conjures. Coffee roasting’s agitation in the drum, heating and transforming, produces a sound that is kin. And the Giesen, up one step just behind the counter, fills this cafe and roastery with this breathable, soothing serenity. The apple red threshold portends a boutique and signals an impassioned roaster within, but the simplified Mandala window decals spaced along the storefront and defining the logo tips the scales in favor of craft. You can breath easy here. On one side, sturdy shelving stocked with tea tins, artsy MOKA pots, and a few built-in coffee dispensers create your neighborhood coffee store. While there is a kind of cabana back room, people on their laptops at the granite circulars fashion the cafe in the front. At the ordering counter are cookies under pastry domes, babka, banana bread, and a subverted cooler filled with juices and colas, Lemonaid, paf, and Alain Milliat. The milk storage sits snuggly in there too. On exposed brick and under pendant lamps of golden transparency, blown glass with bulbs sewn to their pontils before finding final forms, it’s a shop that congenially compiles many a coffee thought.
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Drink: Cappuccino
I have this longstanding anger around a review I read once where someone wrote that they loved their “creamy cappuccino.” That anger was obviously unjustified (to each his own!). Nevertheless, it has found shelter in my head for almost eight years. This cappuccino finally offered that review a leg to stand on. I never thought I’d see the day...let alone like the day it came. There is a richness uncommon to most cappuccinos. It has the smoothness of butter and the sweetness of artisanal chocolate. I drank it and felt completely certain, marvelously satisfied with my choice. It’s not the frills of latte art and the promises of some front-facing trifles. It’s quality, fresh roasted coffee with a refined focus on flavor and composition.
••••
MUHONDO Rwanda Honey Anaerobic
The woman taking care of my TOOK CARE OF ME. When I stopped in to this place, I had a bag of coffee on me that I needed ground. I didn’t know if the cafe would let me pop in and use their Malhkoning for it. If they had said no, I would have understood. But, gleefully for me, they said yes. You know what that means? With my cappuccino in hand, I would be buying more coffee. When kindness is shown, you return it with kindness. So, I asked her what their most popular coffee was. She said that it depended on what I like. Valid. Then, she pointed to two Rwandan coffees. You read that right folks. TWO RWANDAN COFFEES. Then, as I struggled to decide, she pointed to this coffee. “You can try it, I made some on filter today,” she said, returning with a petite cup. Given that it was an anaerobic, I was expecting to be knocked over the head with the flavor notes: fruit rouge, caramel, soyeaux. However, the soy note really shined and subsequently drowned the caramel and red fruits. Personally, I don’t care for earthier or grainy flavors in coffee (pea, soy, peanut, hops, yeast, etc.). While it’s a great coffee, it’s one that my palate has trouble appreciating.
MUHONDO Rwanda Nature
I decided to buy this coffee as a gift for my friends instead of the honey anaerobic. A coffee from the same elevation, a teensy bit lover in SCA score (84 versus 86), and naturally processed seemed to be a better bet. The coffee they had been drinking before I arrived was Terres de Cafe’s Marcala, a washed Honduran, 85+ score, characterized by white flowers, milk chocolate, and peach. While surely deeper in flavor and mouth feel, this Rwandan coffee (made in a French press) comes out balanced and the tasting notes (aromes)—fruit noir, caramel, intense—work hand in hand distinctly. There’s no flavor of overwhelming intensity, rather it’s a statement on flavor’s sturdiness that’s unmissable in each sip.
Price: Cappuccino=4.5€
Hours: Tuesday–Friday {9:30–19}; Saturday {10–18:30}; Sunday–Monday {CLOSED}
✓ WIFI
Kawa
It all begins with an idea.
22 Av. Victoria, 75001 Paris, France
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Sometimes it isn’t about extravagance. Rather, it’s about peace. It’s not that there are plants and hippie mechanics. It’s that pouring, shifting, and conferring are happening—all at medium—under flat, natural light panels between oversized wood, ceiling slats. Simple stools recalling paintless torii gates are the only ways to sit at the coffee bar or in the “shop,” shelves of coffee equipment, brewers, and bags, that stray a bit in size and primarily sport a cara orange color. The frosty green glass along the bar wall and hiding the stairs resembles what I’d imagine replacing your ice cube tray with a Connect Four game board might produce. Plus, there’s a courteous confidence in the metal letters acting as the menu on the wall behind the bar, a slipping an arm over one’s shoulders and proposing with no provocation that coffee is cool. It might seem like the stools and the outdoor metalware are the only places to sit. But, head downstairs, and there you will find a cooler basement with an acid-washed grey carpet, some exposed brick, and furniture expressing a minimal whimsy. Plugs make it easy to plop down—from the Earth’s surface and onto sittable rattan skin—for a length of time of your choosing. However, this subterranean space is not for evading the world: the proximity to the bathroom is the sibling or funny friend constantly giving your hiding place away. In accordance with your cup of several degrees, only one of these degrees gets to be of separation. That is unless you give the cold brew or iced latte a spin.
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Drink: Filtre - Equateur Hacienda La Papaya
While I wouldn’t write home about this drink, it’s a fine enough cup of coffee. That being said, the 180 ml volume (just under 2 cups), in the Kalita is extremely small. Perhaps I wouldn’t have felt it as much if the coffee was more pungent, but it isn’t. The body is oddly thin. With a natural coffee, I expect a lot more cherry and fruit. While these aspects are present, aromatically it is white chocolate and marmalade on the tongue. I would even go as far as to say that it’s a rind filled marmalade, a sourness the creeps up from the throat to the front of the mouth much like with an orange rind. Now to look at what they describe the tasting notes as: pomme cuite, creme brûlée, glace malaga. In English: cooked apple, creme brûlée, Malaga ice cream. I think that there should have been more creaminess on the nose for those last two notes, but Malaga ice cream, rhum raisin, is an interesting consideration. The atypically planar nature of these three flavor notes does make me wonder whether my tongue was less on a quest for body, and more for dimension. It amount to mixing peach, nectarine, and persimmon. They are all different flavors, but none of them announce themselves among the crowd. From the coffee’s elevation, I expected more complexity. However, if for no other reason, in a ceramic aroma cup on a mini metal bonbistro tray is probably the better way to drink it.
•••
Price: Filtre - Equateur Hacienda La Papaya (Typical Natural)=9€
Hours: Monday–Friday {9–18}; Saturday {10–19}; Sunday {10–18}
✓ WIFI*
Extra Notes:
*At first the WIFI didn’t work. The barista explained to me that it has something to do with Android capability. After a few more tries while in the basement, I got it to work! So, don’t give up. Being in the basement though, the signal is weak and goes in and out. But, by choosing to be underground, I take full responsibility for connectivity hiccups.
korcarz
It all begins with an idea.
29 Rue des Rosiers, 75004 Paris, France
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There’s no question about it: this establishment corners the market on “establish.” Sometimes, that means taking responsibility. Other times, that means taking for granted. This typified Jewish setting is an example of the latter. There are two ways to enter, neither particularly defined. If you walk in the side with the bakery case, you have to cross over to the bar, past the soft serve machine and the soft drinks fridge, nearing some tables. There is really no indication of what you should or can do here as two men seem to be working, but their pace is disorderly, at best it’s untailored. As I quietly stood at the invisible threshold, a couple came in and—although seeing me there waiting—pushed on into a table. As they slipped in, the dismal waiter in light blue handed them menus and gestured in welcome. It was like I didn’t exist. Even after securing a place among the inside of a cabinet collection of Jewish scenes—among them a congregation holding a Torah, an Orthodox group, a white dove on the Wailing Wall—the game of obliviousness continues. If you are one person, it’s not a place to consider. Waving away a menu, I ordered. And…they forgot; a poppy roll and an allonge still nowhere in sight after twenty minutes. I flagged down the other guy servicing the place—a seemingly kinder but no less unaware black cap and NIKE sweatshirt unit—and seconds later, it was petit dej’Emily joined by two framed rabbis (one catching your eye on the street, the other in mid-opine) above me. A group of young American girls talked in a volume unsuitable for how small the dining chamber’s first tier is.
“Does anyone need a period pill,” one of them hollered. But they were eight customers, so holler all they want. The whole experience is simply a lot of ruckus and frustration for not enough reward. When I was able to catch cap guy for the bill, I tapped my card, and—wouldn’t you know it—the machine stopped working. The one plus: the chairs were comfortable vinyl, high backs with scrolled fabric. Given how long you’re bound to be bound to this seat, this constructive something is the least they can do.
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Drink: Allongé
Not even a dash of hot water would drown out the shockingly bitter profile of this shot. Taking a clue from the dishware, I would say that they use illy espresso. I wouldn’t be all that surprised. The Le Cimballi is so exhausted that the logo has near been completely worn away. While I didn’t expect a lot, I didn’t expect a difficult drinking experience. My recommendation if you are in dire need of coffee: don’t get it solo and go as sweet on the pastry or post-meal treat as you can.
•••
Food: Roulé Pavot
I am very picky when it comes to my poppy roll. And, despite looking amazing, this pastry is a heaping dose of dry and tasteless. Its best quality: mass. If I did it over again—which I most certainly won’t—I’d try the strudel au pavot. Maybe, because of the poppy seed density, it would be more moist. It’s the same price, so I’d try my luck on this front.
Price: Roulé Pavot=5€; Allongé=3€
Hours: Sunday–Thursday {9-20}; Friday {8–15}; Saturday {CLOSED}
✓ WIFI*
Extra Notes:
The WIFI works on and off, so don’t rely on it in what is otherwise a connection blackhole.
PAUL (Confluence)
It all begins with an idea.
112 Cr Charlemagne, 69002 Lyon, France
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At the bow of Confluence, the southern entrance, those attending this bakery have traded in sailor caps for toques. As soon as I walked up to the counter, the woman past the plexiglass picked up the tongs, at the ready like an unraised salute. She began clicking them above the pizzas and quiches and near the top shelf’s caneles, part de tarte à la rhubarbe, and madeleines. On flat wood trim along the tiles that I’ve grown to expect, “PAINS RUSTIQUES ET DE FANTAISIE” in a caps-locked, official typeface hides yet beautifies. A bretzel tower stands up, a checkerboard floor pulls you down, but the faux candelabras and sconces keep a husky glint going. The F. Bruhn prints of his still lifes of bread and butter and apples on plates in the sitting area are welcome early-20th century nods. The bread imitation is from exactly 30 years after PAUL’s founding. Unexpectedly warm in the tan metalloid fixtures and wood ceiling, it’s a setting that goes ahead and disputes the negative nature of the term “dated.” After 135 years, just pull out a vinyl or velvet Walter chair and know that for the date of here/and/now, you fit right in.
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Drink: Expresso
I didn’t want to spit this one out. This plus however didn’t rid me of harboring mixed feelings about drinking it. It isn’t sweet at all. It’s bitter with savory angle that I think even milk would have trouble navigating. Still a little scarred from my last bit of bravery, I would recommend not getting this espresso either, but mostly because the chocolate in the coffee notes are destroyed by dark roasting (think if you have ever burned chocolate in the microwave before). Actually, that is the exact flavor. Also know that if you order it to stay, it will cost 0.20€ more…and they will give you a mini escargot raisin (see below).
•••
Food: Mini Escargot Raisin
I expected it to be sweeter in order to combat the espresso’s lack of sweetness. I think that would make way more sense. That being said, this little pastry’s got a little crunch, lands butter forward, and is visually very cute. I think the visual nature is what it exists for primarily. If it’s supposed to be a promotion for the bigger one, it doesn’t succeed.
Price: Expresso=1.8€ (2€ to stay)
Hours: Monday–Friday {6:30–20}; Saturday–Sunday {7:30–20}
✓ WIFI
Caffe Milano
It all begins with an idea.
3 Prte de Bâle, 68100 Mulhouse, France
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I knew the first day that I arrived in Mulhouse—within the first few hours even—what this place is: a man cave. It’s a little deceptive given the large windows, face-lit channel letters, and a lack of smoke, but it doesn’t take long to make peace with the absence of estrogen. See, it’s important to acknowledge that the words used were specifically not “testosterone overload.” No, these guys, many bald and commiserating, others keeping it casual in each other’s company, were just occupying the black, high-back vinyl chairs. Oh, don’t get me wrong. You’ve entered their den which means they do have an eye on you, but more in an one-ear-bud-in kind of way. The walls are papered in exposed brick print, and someone has gone ahead and leaned a few canvases against the window facing Rue de Bâle, but its truest colors can be found around the bar. A box shelf is randomly in the wall, supporting a shrunken sea voyager and framing a wood-assembled alligator with a top hat. Square novelty plaques of wildlife shadows grace some of the two-dimensional brick just off to the side of a NeXtime clock featuring Frits Vink’s retro design. The sign for DONI TOURS atop the Lindr two tap, joined above by a flat, teardrop Albania ornament hanging from a shelf with long-stemmed Schweppes glasses just about took me out. There is something so bro about emaciated trinket core, I swear. The soccer game plays on the singular television screen off to the side of the entrance, the only lateral movement save the sweetest, inoffensive individual behind the bar counter. Come to find out that the lack of smoke that I’ve come to expect at a place like this is laughably not a happenstance but by design, made clearly forbidden by laminated INTERDICTION DE VAPOTER and INTERDICTION DE FUMER signs right as you walk in. Depending on who you are and what time of year you visit, there is a very good chance that you’ll see this cafe differently. But one thing’s for sure: there won’t be anything clouding your judgement—well, once you’re inside at least.
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Drink: Grand Cappuccino
It’s Lavazza, which means that it is a hot cup of milk. My pluses are that yes, it was hot; no it didn’t taste bad; and adding a leafy design on top of nothing with chocolate syrup always wins over the heart (should the taste buds be less than amused). The stirrer with CAFE lasered out of one end was also a really cute touch. With a CONTI espresso machine in full operation and some effort obviously exerted, I dare (and dare so happily) say that I can’t report disappointment.
•••
Price: Grand Cappuccino=2.5€
Hours*: Summer: Monday–Saturday {7:15–23}; Sunday {8–22}; Winter: Monday-Saturday {7:15–22}; Sunday {8–21}
*PRECISELY why I have an hours section. Google is WRONG. And this cafe has a seasonal split that is written in—for god knows what reason—Italian with the French (Horaires/Orari, Ete/Veres, and Hiver/Dimrit).
Extra Notes:
They have all of these QR codes announcing free WIFI along the window. I tried to scan it to no avail. All this to say, maybe there’s WIFI, but you’ll have to ask the bartender.
Poulaillon (Sauvage)
It all begins with an idea.
9 Rue de la Chouette, 21000 Dijon, France
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My assessment detoured from good to exhilarated as my heart espied turn-of-the-century inspirations. Allow me to explain. The island in the center holds a Mahlkönig grinder, a tray of three ground coffees (Indonesian, Peruvian, Ethiopian) for experiencing fragrance, bins of Guatemala, empty bags of roasted Peruvian, rustic wooden drawers, and an extra stash of the latest issue of POMPON. It’s like someone with a desire to create a study couldn’t help but insert a coffee didactic among his/her space of retreat. Then it hit me, it’s a French rendition of an early-20th-century living room. Specifically, my mind raced to the living room of Louis Comfort Tiffany at Laurelton Hall (see image below). Only the chosen made it into these chambers. I, we, the German kids next to me, and the awkward date happening to my left, had been chosen. At the foot of the Église de Notre Dame’s chevet, this two-roomed cafe is a testament to offering space meant to be filled. Against the Gerry Keane wallpaper of mustardy tropics, the geometry of mirrors, the frames framing nothing, and the retro clock of gears suspended within layered empty frames only do more to suggest that the role of the venturer is indispensable. The Japanese-style cold drip siphon on that middle island is to be admired (and it sure was by many including myself) and the monochrome watercolor pet portraits are your chance to move away from coffee and get personal. If the latter is your speed, there is a runway. In this moment, on a bench of dense plush of hale navy or in a cross-stitched tub chair, you can comfortably decide. Are you in it for a conversation about Perry the toy poodle (not the dog’s real name) or about why they chose to brew on the siphon with Badoit? Either way, you’re enveloped, but not by walls stamped with chestnut leaves that catch natural light like a forest clearing as in the case of Tiffany’s living room at Laurelton Hall. Rather, you’re enveloped by environs that are always golden despite the day, perhaps a keenly French way to ensure that the unbidden decide to stay.
Photo Credit: The Charles Hosmer Morse Museum of American Art, Orlando, Florida. I do not own this photo.
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Drink: La Chemex
The menu lists a double Chemex version as well with extra details about the coffee being smooth and aromatic when brewed in this manner (“café doux et très aromatique”). Alright, I see you Colombian and raise you...oof, already lost the poker game. The bag said caramel and cherry, and what does this drink give? Caramel and cherry. You might not immediately realize what you’re tasting because it breaks with the conventions of caramel apples and chocolate cherries. You don’t expect a reverse UNO card here: chocolate apples or caramel cherries. But here we are. It came out after about fifteen minutes and is completely worth the wait. It’s a beautiful coffee that they brewed well, the result no doubt of an intimate relationship with the coffee they themselves roasted.
••••
Price: La Chemex=4.5€
Hours*: Tuesday–Friday {9:02–18:33}; Saturday {9:02–19}; Sunday {10–14}; Monday {CLOSED}
*The days on the hours sign outside is in Italian for some reason.
✓ WIFI
Miss Cookies Coffee (Centre Commercial Grand Quetigny)
It all begins with an idea.
Click right to take a look around…
It is NOT in the mall where Google says it is—directly across from Carrefour. Round the corner. There you’ll find Miss Cookies Coffee’s hot pink incandescence. While the opposing Waffle Authentik only has its paneled off seating area, Miss Cookies is decked out with tables and stools within its own store AND passageway occupancy with stout, metal stools in a Monster High palette. There’s a digital ordering BORNE DE COMMANDE (order terminal), but you can just as easily approach the counter and order in the same spot as RETRAÎT COMMANDE (order collection). Maybe on crazier days at earlier times this situation is different. Regardless of how calm or busy, you have multiple cookie and coffee collection methods. Not to worry. Certain television screens maintain the cold and drink menus while others flip from announcing their new muffins to promoting their LAIT VEGETAL option with Alpro. However, as one man—who walked up and began half-apologizing, half-ordering from the man with the centered cobalt section in his crew cut—soon discovered: customers are rewarded for volume. For the muffins, donuts, and cookies, buying four gets you the the fifth one free or buying seven gets you three more free. Voices somehow carry unabated across this mall cavity, defying the physics of sound waves. I couldn’t have been further from the counter, sitting in one of the only two real chairs, grey, vinyl variants tucked away against irregular strips of cranberry, grey, black (perfectly disguising the plug sockets), and their pink, decoratively defining what exists of the space’s angles. And yet, I could hear them perfectly. On top of this distance, I was submerged in the album “Versus” by Vitaa & Slimane. Three guys, with one obviously a trainee, managed the business with nothing but the M’s on their backs and an internalization of corporate’s instructions. You know where you are, you know what they’ve got, they know that you know, and the result is a straightforward recipe.
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Drink: Cappuccino
Redeeming. That’s the one word this drink earns. I vowed to myself that I would not go to another Miss Cookies after one prior experience. But see, I’m really bad at flat out write-offs, especially when there’s potential. No, the cappuccino isn’t special. However, he asked me if I wanted it to stay or to go and then proceeded to make me a cappuccino in a tall glass and sprinkle it with cinnamon. Frankly, with the size and milk ratio, it’s a latte. Will I be complaining about it? Certainly not. On a tray it came via a nice barista. It tastes like coffee, looks like coffee, and quacks like a—wait, wrong analogy…
•••
Price: Cappuccino=4.3€
Hours: Monday–Saturday {9–20}; Sunday {CLOSED}
✓ WIFI
Caffè Gufo
It all begins with an idea.
9 Rue de la Chouette, 21000 Dijon, France
Click right to take a look around…
My assessment detoured from good to exhilarated as my heart espied turn-of-the-century inspirations. Allow me to explain. The island in the center holds a Mahlkönig grinder, a tray of three ground coffees (Indonesian, Peruvian, Ethiopian) for experiencing fragrance, bins of Guatemala, empty bags of roasted Peruvian, rustic wooden drawers, and an extra stash of the latest issue of POMPON. It’s like someone with a desire to create a study couldn’t help but insert a coffee didactic among his/her space of retreat. Then it hit me, it’s a French rendition of an early-20th-century living room. Specifically, my mind raced to the living room of Louis Comfort Tiffany at Laurelton Hall (see image below). Only the chosen made it into these chambers. I, we, the German kids next to me, and the awkward date happening to my left, had been chosen. At the foot of the Église de Notre Dame’s chevet, this two-roomed cafe is a testament to offering space meant to be filled. Against the Gerry Keane wallpaper of mustardy tropics, the geometry of mirrors, the frames framing nothing, and the retro clock of gears suspended within layered empty frames only do more to suggest that the role of the venturer is indispensable. The Japanese-style cold drip siphon on that middle island is to be admired (and it sure was by many including myself) and the monochrome watercolor pet portraits are your chance to move away from coffee and get personal. If the latter is your speed, there is a runway. In this moment, on a bench of dense plush of hale navy or in a cross-stitched tub chair, you can comfortably decide. Are you in it for a conversation about Perry the toy poodle (not the dog’s real name) or about why they chose to brew on the siphon with Badoit? Either way, you’re enveloped, but not by walls stamped with chestnut leaves that catch natural light like a forest clearing as in the case of Tiffany’s living room at Laurelton Hall. Rather, you’re enveloped by environs that are always golden despite the day, perhaps a keenly French way to ensure that the unbidden decide to stay.
Photo Credit: The Charles Hosmer Morse Museum of American Art, Orlando, Florida. I do not own this photo.
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Drink: La Chemex
The menu lists a double Chemex version as well with extra details about the coffee being smooth and aromatic when brewed in this manner (“café doux et très aromatique”). Alright, I see you Colombian and raise you...oof, already lost the poker game. The bag said caramel and cherry, and what does this drink give? Caramel and cherry. You might not immediately realize what you’re tasting because it breaks with the conventions of caramel apples and chocolate cherries. You don’t expect a reverse UNO card here: chocolate apples or caramel cherries. But here we are. It came out after about fifteen minutes and is completely worth the wait. It’s a beautiful coffee that they brewed well, the result no doubt of an intimate relationship with the coffee they themselves roasted.
••••
Price: La Chemex=4.5€
Hours*: Tuesday–Friday {9:02–18:33}; Saturday {9:02–19}; Sunday {10–14}; Monday {CLOSED}
*The days on the hours sign outside is in Italian for some reason.
✓ WIFI
Alto café
It all begins with an idea.
Click right to take a look around…
Not only is this Alto Pop UP (their VIOLA model) inside of the Dijon train station, but it is at the crossroads of everything within. You’ll pass it heading to platform A or 3, on your way to the pharmacy, if you’re looking for the car rental, or going to and from the ticket office. Too, some guiding bars of grey on the ground converge almost directly in front of it. While there are a few donuts, muffins, and pastries for sale, the glimmering Victoria Arduino White Eagle 358, two-group espresso machine is the center of this sealable coffee triptych. This machine is at the heart of the crimson mobile environment, and it steals your every attention. There are some add-on elements, one upright soda cooler as well as a stand-alone display of their teas, cups, and coffees, which provides a closer view than their arrangement on the shelf right above the espresso machine. However, the rest of your surroundings is the train station.
“No NO—he picked it up,” a man shouted in English as a little Asian boy in a blue-button down with a permanent smile puncture just above his chin wreaked literal havoc. The traveling populace passes by experiencing the entire spectrum of sureness, and you can just sit on the L-blocks of flat turquoise or tangerine vinyl under a skylight and enter a lower frequency. The draw of the question on the frontage banner between iron posts is this pivot from searching to surety. “UN CAFE?” You know what? Oui.
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Drink: Cappuccino
The drink is way too hot, felt that immediately. Well, I figure that this high temperature is actually okay given the train station. If you are sitting awhile or taking it for the train, it will still be hot when you finally sit down or after you’ve arranged your things and settled into a seat block of color. Overall I'd say that it’s smooth, really possessing it's own kind of sweetness. My palate wanted so badly to chalk this bit of dulce up to chocolate, but it's not that distinct. Maybe it's something else that's sweet? Boom. The flavor profile listed on the bag of Alao, Alto Cafe’s own roast: "Notes of honey." And, thinking back to all I know about chocolate and its Mexico origins, I’m going to assert that it isn’t at all improbable that these Mexican beans do pull in a tinge of cacao, a unintended result of terroir and the deep-rooted connection to this tree, pod, and fruit.
•••
Price: Cappuccino=4.2€
Hours: Everyday {6–12}
✓ WIFI
Kawa Brunch
It all begins with an idea.
Piscine du Carrousel, 2 Cr du Parc, 21000 Dijon, France
Click right to take a look around…
After almost walking all the way to this place a few days ago, seeing a bulwark of a building among the photos on Google, and then becoming very suspicious at GoogleMap’s directions (See “Extra Notes”), this place was shrouded in mystery. Guess what? My suspicions were right. Don’t trust GoogleMaps. This brunch spot is an amenity of the community pool. I’m not kidding. I’ve been in gym cafes and even a culinary school’s waffle operation (see Twisted Waffles LLC), but this serious operation of pancakes, crepes, toasts, and muesli-topped yogurt is a choice derivation. This brunch spot, however, is certainly no afterthought, no “might as well.” I arrived at 10:30, and at 10:31 there was not one table available. Before the elongated lemonade stand, acting as the main counter and taxed menu display, only the stools along its vegetal bar wall were free. Frankly, I don’t see them planting any people there unless there is absolutely nowhere else for them to go. Ferns, long grass, and shrub undergird the counter while staff dances behind it to make coffee and press juices. Through tall windows, swimmers are visible taking on their lanes under backstroke flags. But see now, WHY are there big stuffed monkeys hanging off two indoor tree trunks that are somehow holding a circus tent ceiling taut? No one, admiring their food and beverage spreads, but me seemed to care. In their matte black chairs and simple wood tables, with legs that conjured up The Weinstein Co. logo, mostly sets of two either both dipped spoons into the same, first cold course. Others waved forks over flattened bubbles that presented each polished piece of brunch, trying to figure out which one to pop first. Clink. That one. With every concerted lap the staff made, more bubbles appeared. There is a jubilation that everyone is in on, the kind that anyone who’s been underwater or in the path of a bubble wand knows.
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Drink: Capuccino
When I dipped into the foam of this capuccino (how they spelled it on their menu), it cratered like someone grabbing a chunk of snow from a heap. While the flavor isn’t stand out, and the creaminess of the milk is absolutely gone, the latter does tame the bitter espresso well enough. I’ve said this before, but sometimes the description bears repeating: it reminds me of the old-school espresso drinks you’ll find in Eastern Europe, just pulling brown liquid and slapping some soul-warming milk on top. It is extremely reminiscent of illy, Caffé Vergnano, and Kimbo.
•••
Food: Crepe
The plates are tiny circles. My brain had to just spit that fact out. Okay, that’s such a pretty crepe! I was not expecting the topping of bananas, whole almonds, and goji berries along one edge, with powdered sugar and almond slices gracing the entirety. It smells perfectly sweet. The crepe texture isn’t the best. A little chewy for me. But you have to understand, having just recently had an unforgettable crepe in La Clusaz as well as a life-altering crepe from a stall down deep in the depths of Avignon, I’ve been ruined. The filling is nice—though I do think Amlou is just almond butter—but really the topping is what made it worthwhile. It takes a special kitchen to have the foresight to plate like this, and I’m delighted to see it. Honestly, if I wanted a light-but-fanciful brunch I’d come here for this crepe and the cappuccino and call it a day—a perfect 8.9€ combination.
Le krusty
How long it took for a singular egg on half of a biscuit is kind of insane. Over half an hour later, I was still just sitting there with my crepe (brunch dessert). The only saving grace was that, looking around, I didn’t see any other eggs or toasts. This observation convinced me that they didn’t forget about me or mess up my order. Apparently, these items are extremely time consuming to prepare. The lamb's lettuce and the sprouts in the presentation are beautiful and really make things pop. But, the dish was completely cold. The slice of cheese on the biscuit didn’t even melt. Cutting into the poached egg, the egg yoke didn’t bleed at all. It is tasty, however there was a lot of poor execution. The hollandaise sauce is also very light while offering a ton of flavor. My brain settled calmly on one final, silly thought: if an alien came to earth and was tasked with making a friend chicken sandwich, something akin to this dish is what I’d expect.
Overall: nothing horrible maybe aside from the wait and the temperature of the Le krusty (because I let the crepe sit while I waited, I can’t really comment on its temperature). There are unique dishes and some surprises.
Price: Capuccino=2.5€; Le krusty=7.9€; Crepe=4.9€ (+Amou by Mounia=1.5€)*
*There are too many differences between from their online and board menu. It’s a little debilitating. Amlou is nowhere to be found on the online menu for the Le Continental or the crepe (even for the upcharge), and this topping also flip flops in description. Sometimes it’s by Mounia while other times it’s by Mounia, noisettes, banane, figues. I think it’s a roasted almond butter, but what makes things even more difficult is that the site for this product lists four different variants of this butter. Yet, the only specification here is on the pancakes on the online menu. It could be hazelnut, but there is already nutella…it’s really impossible to tell. The online menu also lists the latte macchiato as an option in the Le Continental, but the physical menu doesn’t. Because I didn’t want to attempt to ask for clarification, and fail tragically at French, I opted out of the Le Continental for à la carte and a cappuccino.
Hours: Saturday–Sunday {10–15:30}; Monday–Friday {10–15}
✓ WIFI
Extra Notes:
Here’s how you crack the code: you must get some kind of fruit salad or yogurt to start (or the Le Brunché or Bonnie & Clyde work too). If you go this route, you’ll have something to nibble on while you wait for the hot food.
I took this screenshot while sitting in the restaurant…
Google said I hadn’t arrived and had to go around…all while my crepe sat in front of me.
Chez Mes Sœurs
It all begins with an idea.
Click right to take a look around…
On spring’s first attempt at a warm Saturday, this cafe along the road leading straight into the gargoyle line formation of L’Eglise de Notre Dame’s entrance was absolutely filled. Groups ordered, couples sat, and many scanned the QR code blocks on the outdoor seating while others braved the wood display that was both holding physical versions of the menus and holding on for dear life. There’s a gold undertone that permeates the space in the form of the pastry case’s trays as well as the light fixtures and wall sconces. It might have been bustling because of the numerous clientele after 17:00 on a weekend, but the cafe matched this energy. The range of menu formats keep going, from mini easel to any shape of chalk-marker board and even a Carte des boissons right above the tea tins and Nespresso espresso machine. The wall furthest from the ordering counter supports floating black shelves, holding bright books in vertical and horizontal stacks along with teddy bears and bunches of what look to be faux gardenias and peonies. But wait, the display doesn’t end there. Molded to it too is a set of aged, ivory dressers that spans its length. Even there pages, peonies, and petite plants populate. Then glass shelves crop up in a recessed space. Into its adjacent right angle, there’s more black shelving, more books, more flower bunches…it remains invitational, with many places to sit, while also invoking the eager excitement of a child with a story to tell. What you’re filtrating through when you get comfy in a window seat or out on the street—in my case, a chance to breath with the street accordionist’s repeated pressure on the air valve—is the assiduous anecdote of Anne-Sophie, Anne-Claire, and Annabelle.
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Drink: Strawberry Latte
The description: “café, lait chaud, chantilly, purée de fruits rouges et fraises fraîches.” I did check (after my Columbus Café error) that there was coffee in it. The lady at the register wasn’t sure either. That made me feel better about the clarification. In any case, the drink came out on a strangely heavy plate, a warped and flattened piece of gold, with a tablespoon deeply buried beneath whipped cream. Something about all strawberry things in this country seems to require a topping of a particular mix of yellow, pink, green nonpareils. It’s happened before. The drink itself is ridiculously interesting. I don’t make a habit of mixing coffee and fruit, but here the drink is like sitting down to a decadent strawberry shortcake and a café viennois. In this series of events, the fusion of these two things is the drink. Eventually, you are left with a strawberry-coffee soup. Nothing wrong with that. The flavors don’t turn or depress. And, I have a recommendation: scoop out the grit. Never thought I’d say that…but the strawberry seeds from the fresh puree are too beautiful to leave behind.
•••
Price: Strawberry Latte (Boisson gourmande du moment)=6.5€
Hours: Tuesday–Thursday {10–18}; Friday–Saturday {9:30–19}; Sunday–Monday {CLOSED}
✓ WIFI
Vinyl and Coffee
It all begins with an idea.
Click right to take a look around…
Walking past the bubble typeface SOUL, BLUES, and Jazz’s refraction (JAZZ, NEW JAZZ, JAZZ VOCAL, JAZZ FUNK), I wanted to stop, but I couldn’t. Like a anglerfish’s vulturous light, the mushroom lamp on the counter pulled me towards it. Before I knew it, I was being hugged by a low, metal subway ceiling and by music the soul could munch on, standing on a checkering of black and white in front of a 350€ FELA KUTI album. Also here, a totally disinterested man in black frames was standing, neither occupied nor unoccupied. There was a lot to see, but not far to look, and I locked on the espresso machine off to the side. The one-group LELIT popped against an emerald wall under a vintage, backlit FRIGIDAIRE sign. The green and luminescence, even without the cubicle-ready Mickey with open arms standing atop it, blared go.
“The coffee is more to go with the records,” the counter man deterred. Oh, I’d still look at records. But, in my world they are undoubtedly coffee’s complement. There was another guy, the weak “occupied” part of the situation I walked in on, and he took his knit beanie and button-down Carhartt shirt over to the espresso machine. He knocked me out of my trance when he held out the long shot he pulled for me. When I was about to settle back into soaking up any nearby title my eyes could focus on and appreciating the wall of comic book pages setting the scene for CALIFORNIA SOUL, he surprised me by circling back.
“Where are you from?”
The conversation was everything you aspire to find in a record shop. He recommended French radio stations for me to tune into on my continuing road trip: Radio FIP, World Wide Radio, NTS, and Radio Grenouille. Radio Meuh was a given, considering that mentioning I was on my way to Radio Meuh’s Circus Festival was what started it all. This guy, Moroccan with an American accent—having spent his childhood in East Berlin—used to work that gig during his time with the radio stations. We struggled together to remember the name of signed rapper French Montana, who he informed me was Moroccan. Oh, don’t get me wrong, these were the choice words he had to say about him, especially as we both slammed his stage name. Soon we had moved on to how there’s no competition: east coast hip hop is just better than west coast (and will forever be). We talked about the commercialization of the Black Eyed Peas and Cee Lo Green, the former a tragedy the latter a success story. And, as he rolled his loose tobacco under the mushroom lamp, our conversation closed with him almost taking to the air. “And David Guetta is shit!” He did permit a minor redaction for his hip hop mixing era, but still…shit. If you go into a record shop and don’t end up talking about music, you’ve misplaced the needle. When all the music junkies stop duckin for a smoke out front, it’s then that you discover Joao de Bruco/R.H. Jackson, HiTech, Pellegrino, La Granja Orchestra, Halima, Roc Marciano, and Donny Hathaway by flipping through the plastic milk crates and flakeboard displays, slapping a vinyl onto the Sony turntable or sheerly by touch and sight. With air incensed by a little cigarette smoke, you sift shoulder to shoulder, sometimes slide past arched backs. Compelled, you dance to the get down that’s all for the sake of finding your next groove.
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Drink: Espresso
To their credit, with the portafilter locked in, they asked whether I wanted it short or long. Always long. And with that—and no place to put it down—a clear, double-walled espresso glass was in my hands. Impressively, he pulled a shot of coffee from an Annecy roaster, Brand Cafes & Thes (roasting since 1959). The shot was a little thin, but there weren’t any disagreeable flavors. Hot sips with a comfortable hold, the few ounces complements record perusing well enough. After all, as the staffer emphasized, that’s exactly what it’s for.
•••
Price: Espresso=1€
Hours: Tuesday–Saturday {14–19}; Sunday–Monday {CLOSED}
Extra Notes:
There is a WIFI network, but I sure as heck didn’t ask about it. Didn’t need it. There is so much to see and explore in this store. Honestly, it felt disrespectful to ask.
DO NOT MISS THE MURAL OUTSIDE PAINTED BY SAKOASKO ABOUT 2 YEARS AGO. IT IS SO INCREDIBLY DOPE.
Espresso-T
It all begins with an idea.
Click right to take a look around…
You approach from below, head up a staircase lined on the left side with a grid of mirrors. There is a lot of 90s New York loft apartment, with the exposed brick and...alright, I’ve been had. As my eyes registered the impression of New York’s inspiration, my whole being broke when I saw the oversized print of the Brooklyn Bridge, toasted by a sunset and calmed by purpling clouds. Right above the door to the kitchen, set back in a sort of indirect continuation of the brick that both covers the unmirrored wall and defines a stable of seating, this image stays present like the creases in a grinning face. Some of the cafe’s features are coordinated, the mega menu taking up a middle third of the brick wall are in lock step with the black GO IN ladderbacks and tufted cushions on short, chocolate-hued crates. But, it’s the loft fit, how the main area is back to back and papers peak out of the crate slats, hinting at how they double as storage, that confer most of its character. A playlist that followed up Sexy Lounge Chillout Continuous Mix with Johnny Cash’s Walk the Line, might be perceived as disrespect but really it’s just about bucking deference. A man on his laptop, pushing out his lower lip in deep concentration, sat against the brick wall while I took a crate. From scrolling the website, I knew that this man was Bertrand Dubois, the cafe’s manager and head barista. Our only exchange was him giving me the password, neither of us making an attempt at conversation. Painless and perfect, how sufficient simple regard can truly be.
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Drink: Latte Macchiato
It is ENORMOUS, easily 16oz of milk. No wonder you are paying four euros. The drink is also very very light on the espresso flavor, almost like foamed milk tinged with espresso. I’m confident that the shot count was one. Because of the way the milk was steamed, I think that it lands more in the cappuccino camp than the latte one. Sure the technical might not fit the bill, but I didn’t care. All I was left with was awe for steam power on the E1. Even towards the end, whatever Ours Blanc coffee was on the hopper remained at bay. I know that the coffee is good—I had a flat white at Wolf Coffee & Toast with a lot of success—but I would say that getting a cappuccino or a straight espresso here is the only way to go. Note: for all you people out there who enjoy the “dipped tea bag” version of coffee, consider this latte your soulmate.
•••
Price: Latte Macchiato=4€*
*Cheaper than the cappuccino. I’m guessing that the price difference has to do with one shot versus two.
Hours: Tuesday–Friday {10–19}; Saturday {9–19}; Sunday–Monday {CLOSED}
✓ WIFI
Amorino (Dijon)
It all begins with an idea.
Click right to take a look around…
Watching the eyes light up of every person who pushed that cupid—and subsequently the door open—warmed my heart. Of course, there's no reason to think that the kaleidoscopic case of gelato wouldn't be enough to peck pupils with a glimmer, but this gelaterie isn’t simply making people smile; it is as though the place is dusted with light. It first catches all off guard, and then the brilliance settles around them. What particularly makes customers wide-eyed is the way that the place stretches up into a right-angled, vertiginous staircase. A tall break in the stonework—if you look closely, it looks like this was an intentional removal—brings the first line of black, iron rails into view. It’s almost a rote of passage for everyone to walk up to this break—a installed piece of wood turns it into a counter with a few of the cutest oak stools with mini backs—and (sometimes with camera in hand) marvel up at the unexpected expanse. The crystal chandeliers, the size and shape of oversized, beach balls, drip from brass chains. Looking up is a requirement, not a choice. Four gay troops in black toques behind the counter slickly and rhapsodically move through making the drinks, scooping the gelato, and delivering the goods. Select hands pound the powdered sugar container, regularly emitting sounds and sweet clouds. At some points, the woman on the register switches to English and begins pointing with verve to get the order right. And another employee kindly asks for the customer who just walked in to close the door. It’s warm to begin with, but the staff throws the blanket over your shoulders. One lady even stopped to appreciatively tell them it was perfect as she passed the counter one more time. Whether dusted light—or maybe it’s powdered sugar—this little spot stirs people, the cup clinks of the spoon audible as soon as they step inside, before they’ve even received a glass.
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Drink: Small Pistachio Latte
Immediate delight upon presentation which was whimsical, walnut pieces falling everywhere. For the price, it’s a big drink. The pistachio drizzle is the best part. I wish there was more pistachio flavor overall, and, as I considered this adjustment, it also occurred to me that a tweak to the presentation would benefit it too. Pistachio cream drizzled on the inside of a tall, transparent glass would have kept the flavor constant, plentiful, and—perhaps most importantly—tasty to the eye (subconsciously boosting the taste). Though, what I found in the end was enjoyment. Take it or leave it.
•••
Price: Small Pistachio Latte=7€
Hours: Monday {14–19}; Tuesday–Sunday {13–19}
Cooffies
It all begins with an idea.
Click right to take a look around…
Darn. The only seat in the house is taken...by a teddy bear with a flower in its right ear and his friend, doe-eyed cookie pillow. Okay, maybe I wasn’t really looking for a place to sit. That’s not really what this drop-in cookie spot offers. The free-standing, hammock chair display is atop a little patch of black, white, and peach tiling. A wall rectangle, in the same peachy shade, centering some Cooffies neon, sits right behind it. All the cookies, filled and unfilled, light and dark, drizzled and nut-jammed (15 types, more or less) are angled towards you on opaquely gold cookie sheets. The menu is a changeable letter board mounted into a recessed wall joining the peach parade. You can’t go further...physically, but I did turn to the three blush informational boards that talk about NOS PRODUITS (our products) and go into deep detail (there’s a whole section on their sugar). It’s obvious that they—Amandine and Marine, a mother-daughter duo—are so proud of their completely French and thoughtfully sourced products. While I can’t attest to the cookies, I can attest to the air of the space. Turning back to the teddy bear, it’s abundantly clear that someone cares. And then it hit me, isn’t every nursery christened by a first teddy bear from a mother, sister, aunt, or best friend? That’s the air: soft and expectant with supportive women standing near.
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Drink: Cappuccino
It came off the Delonghi, and it smelled really good. I had hope for it. But, there’s a small problem: it tastes thin. I kept trying to put my finger on why. I have a few suspicions. The milk could be loaded into the Delonghi powdered—this would explain the severe lack of body and structure (it was like water). I’m convinced that the beans loaded into the machine are good, they just might not be right for the machine (the second suspicion). My third theory is possibly that the grind was too coarse for espresso. Regardless, it was drinkable; it just wasn’t all that rich or flavorful. I had a cookie on me (one from a batch that my mom had sent from the US that she baked for me), and somehow it overwhelmed this cappuccino completely.
•••
Price: Cappuccino=3.5€*
*I noticed after ordering that they do have an explicit set: one drink (cappuccino, latte macchiato, ice coffee / iced latte, chocolat chard / viennois) and a cookie. This set costs 6.10€ saving you 1.2€ (viennois / latte + Le dulcey)!
Hours: Tuesday–Saturday {10–18}; Sunday–Monday {CLOSED}
✓ WIFI**
Extra Notes:
**You get the Dijon public WIFI here.
PAUL (Dijon)
It all begins with an idea.
Click right to take a look around…
With a woodworked base, like a bureau with thick, petaly legs, the pastry case is three levels. It isn’t until you make it down this golden display, past the wall paper of an old town street and a free-hanging stained glass panel of autumnal leaves layered on a curly design, that you find three menus in skinny black frames. There are two sets: Le Parisien and Le Continental. What’s interesting though is the white tiling of the wall behind it all. If you pay attention, you’ll notice a slight variation here and there, vases, cornucopias, windmills, and other finely-executed depictions in burgundy. While these ceramic tiles might seem ignored, the fact that they are even there in a chain like this—when a roof beam right above them has been stamped PAUL in their signature lettering—speaks less to lacking awareness and more to incorporation. The seating in the back makes it fully evident that redecoration is not off the table. Most of the chairs are grey seats with navy and baby blue backs, but there are two ash booths and a set of ebony and ivory single-rung ladder backs (definitely yanked out of some type of storage). The vintage posters, always proudly claiming Lille, add some color and story while the black and white photos, hung in admittedly strange lines, accomplish half of the same. The ceiling is dropped in one spot, and here the punctures are all lights. But, this illumination closer to the glassed-off bakery occurs only in some spots of a sea sponge of punctures. Will the reason ever be known? Never. Maybe these holes let bakery fumes escape. Or maybe when plotted, the punctures map out PAUL’s master plan...all starting in the north.
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Drink: Espresso
It smelled great, looked great, tasted DASTARDLY. It actually has like licorice and alcohol and salt mixed together? Look, my palate was going haywire. There’s a sweetness at the end, but it can’t be better described than licorice. While I managed to drink it, I actually feared each subsequent sip. I thought about giving up several times…I think that alone tells you all you need to know.
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Price: Espresso=1.90€
Hours*: Monday–Saturday {7:30–19:15}; Sunday {CLOSED}
*Closed Easter Monday, April 1.
Extra Notes:
COFFEE & MUFFIN
It all begins with an idea.
Click right to take a look around…
I don’t know why there are two sides of the street labeled COFFEE & MUFFIN, but the one on the east side—with the director’s chairs and the tangerine A-frame out front—is the one you’re seeking. Perhaps the other space is overflow seating? If so, what a flex to have two storefronts on one of the busiest streets in town. Inside, it’s one of those places where the longer you sit, the more you see. The main wall is wood trim between cement, backdropping a tribal African scene on canvas (signed COCO 2014) along with a rogue arrangement of frozen puzzle pieces. And, in my opinion, this integrant is incredibly hard to style around. Then again, I get the feeling that the older gentleman managing the place didn’t style anything for anybody except himself. He comes off strikingly assured with his pairing of a charcoal and ash, double-wrapped scarf and apron patterned with rainbow brush strokes. There’s just enough seating, with more that fits around the small, open prep space in the back, populated by chairs of magenta and orange. Behind the scenes, there is one other personality: a kid in comparison to our front-of-house character who stayed in that baker’s cubical with only occasional appearances up front. While you probably won’t interact at all, this guy in black, jean cargos with stitched Asian characters on the side and black and red converse to match, is worth a nod. He seems to keep things moving; he fits the disregard to “styling;” and he rocks his own version of the brush stokre apron (I sincerely doubt that he would agree with me). There’s this overall impression of management without it feeling managed. It’s tranquil. My heart skipped a beat when I laid eyes on the Maicon MCN pop art print of the original Game Boy, a checkerboard of color that corresponds magenta and orange. And yet—here’s that more I mentioned—something else soon stole my gaze: a mask of a kind of rodent in a green hat lodged into one of the stocking shelves. Turning around, this smiling creature’s in the window too wrapped in a...worm? I compulsively asked the man pinned up in the scarf. This character around was Billy the hamster and his friend, Jean-Claude the worm. Why? No idea. Even he who works there seemed taken aback by their presence. When the music finally ticked on—an ill-fitting mix of Kid Laroi and Post Malone—it was decided: the muffin man that works on Rue des Godrans might decorate with a quad-clock (New York, Paris, Vancouver, Sydney), but his space keeps pace with some undisplayed time and to the beat of an unwonted drum.
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Drink: Latte Macchiato Speculoos / Latte Macchiato Spéculos
It’s really just milk foam for much of the drink. I watched him make it, and astoundingly he didn’t pull a shot or steam a thing. It was like a latte magic trick...not my preferred kind of magic. The cocoa powder on top of the huge foam cap looked like a marshmallow toasted over an open fire. In my opinion, it all struggled aesthetically. He dropped it off with a long metal piece that reminded me strongly of an occluder. I did try stirring with it, but the milk (even though it wasn’t very hot) adhered to the metal stick. If you tried to pick it up again, which I did for eating the muffin and to further stir the settling syrup, stickiness entered the experience. It was so bland for most of the time, that I actually decided to dive into the muffin (something I would have never ever done ever). Too much sugar. That being acknowledged, the layer of syrup looked so thin that I finally decided that I needed to add SOME flavor. Once I got to the very end, it started to taste like specoloos a little. If I was looking for coffee, I’d avoid this one. It just ended up being a large glass of lukewarm Lait de France, and I for one am in need of more.
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Food: Triple Chocolate Muffin
This muffin is weirdly dry despite looking like the muffin wasn’t cooked all the way. Actually, scratch that: it’s cooked all the way, the moist patches are melted white chocolate. Honestly, the muffin and the coffee are only good when eaten together. Separately, the muffin tastes like something not necessarily store bought or box made, but like robbed of the fluffy texture and compounded flavor that you’d hope for from a place that has “muffin” in the name (for the assessment of the coffee on it’s own, see above). Also, BEWARE! I checked out with the young guy, then made a spontaneous decision to run into the bathroom before heading out. I WAS A CHOCOLATE RUDOLF. The end of my nose was completely brown from contact with the muffin top’s chocolate chunks…AND THE GUY DIDN’T TELL ME. I get being polite but PLEASE PSA ME OUT OF EMBARRASSMENT. It’s the triple chocolate muffin that requires you to triple check your face for evidence of its consumption.