Copenhagen Coffee Lab (Antibes)
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I knew it was coming up, but I had no idea how soon as I discovered the Marche Provençal. Taken by the signs for absinthe bars (a sight for these sore-for-Prague eyes), a man and a woman engrossed in a full table card game, and glowing globes made from a frame of creek rocks, I almost walked past it. But, right there, set back from the market itself, it’s there: a sign made from a metal sheet and a sliding door that is braked in place. A bench and fabric-covered, back buffers (be careful, these aren’t fastened to the wall, so you can knock them around if you don’t directly lean back) are the first line of “to stay” defense. The next opportunity to sit is a small salon in the back, off-white walls only decorated by a power box and a canvas glamor shot one of Copenhagen Coffee Lab’s offerings. It serves its purpose. But, there is a wild card. Two women man the counter, wiping the floor on hands and knees to, taking the orders, cleaning the espresso machine, loading the dishwasher, and everything in between, and one of these women is the most endearing dork I have come across in a long time. The warmth she embodies characterizes her interactions with customers as well as her coworker. And, as a customer myself, I couldn’t help loving being part of the former.
“Good morning,” she said confidently at 18:00 to an English-speaking couple that sauntered in. “Good afternoon,” the man softly insisted in good faith. Craning her neck from the espresso machine, she kept things rolling. “I’m joking,” she said playfully. “I wanted to see the face.” A brunette head, messied up in a claw clip, that—even around the typical onslaught of menu, pictured specials, and bags of coffee with a design inspired by the periodic table—mixes it up. What a super power.
“Here you go amigos,” she called over the last ciabatta loaf and some loitering viennoiseries. And, as I ripped my receipt, she chose to boldly thank me in French for my order—an unmanicured gesture that elicited a smile from me. It’s true that the main fixtures, gold tubes over the counter, are for the pastry case and ordering place. It’s also true that, for the light that the customers emanate, the light switches “on” propter this woman’s unconscious and inconspicuous smacks.
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Drink: Oat Cappuccino
It came out as an inscrutable espresso and oat milk swirl. Mind you, I don’t need latte art, and contrast is much more important in my opinion, but I could see from this swirl that the oat milk was either not made for steaming or it had been a little fried. If I had to guess, I’d opt for the latter. I think the combination of the milk not being cold enough and the Nuova Simonelli not being operated for plant milk, caused the milk to splinter. Did it taste bad? No, not at all. The milk and the espresso are of good quality; it’s just not cohesive.