This coffee shop is a little more than a mile away, but difficult to walk to. So Louie and I packed into the car and drove over.
It wasn't clear which teas on the menu could be brewed hot and which were available iced (I was hoping for the latter). So I asked the barista and he rattled off a slew of words that do nothing to give clues about what they might taste like. Fancy Formosa Oolong? Lung Ching Dragonwell? Genmaicha Green? Sound like items you'd find in a Burpee catalog.
Wanting to minimize my geekiness factor, I ask for something fruit-flavored and end up with Tropical Passion. Which I assume has some sort of third-cousin, twice-removed relationship to the passion fruit. It’s tasty, although at $1.95 it's fifty cents more than Starbucks, and ten cents more than Stratford.
Their outdoor patio--the real reason I've come--is great. It's open with plenty of tables and chairs, and I think this airy feeling contributes my ability to create fake worlds. I could definitely sit and work here for several hours.
The clientele leans more “Del Mar.” I overheard talk about whether or whether not a girl inside the shop was indeed a girl named Paris, and what it meant that one girl hadn’t said hi to her, although she had smiled. Like, oh my Gawd!
But there was one sweet couple reading newspaper headlines to each other like they genuinely wanted to the other to know these things. They weren’t doing it to knock society, to brag, or one-up the other.
And Louie? He’s a simple dog and I think his simple needs were met. I appreciated the water bowl for dogs passing through.
Tomorrow? Perhaps a shop with a little more glam.
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