I bought this shirt a year ago  from Locher’s. In case you can’t read it, it says: I really need a fucking coffee. And..it’s the most amazing investment I’ve ever made because, really? Have you met me? A day doesn’t go by where I don’t feel this way at one point or another.

**Please Note: This is not my photography. I pulled it from their website. But since I’m promoting their product, I figured they wouldn’t mind. Hopefully I’m not wrong about that…

Cafe Select in SoHo sells an amazing cup of coffee. The atmosphere, however, leaves little to be desired. It’s crowded and loud and definitely not the kind of place you can comfortably sit and write on your laptop over a cup of joe. I ended up sitting on that pretty red bench because I couldn’t handle it inside. It was luckily a little warmer than the previous weeks have been…and by warmer, I mean it was above the freezing point.

Moral of the story? Great for a cup of coffee TO GO.

I’ve been running low on my Sumatra beans bought from Georgio’s a couple months ago. And since I was in Long Island for the day running errands, decided to make the extra stop to stock up.

Sean and I walked through the door and immediately notice the place is way more organized than it was back in November.  All the boxes were cleared out and the antiques were all displayed beautifully. There were even these purses and tote bags that looked as though they were hand made in another country lining the walls.

As soon as we walked in, we were greeted with four big smiles and four even bigger hello’s.

Sean: Hi…no need to give us the tour. We’ve been here before and were such fans, we’ve come back. All the way from Brooklyn.

Georgio: That’s right! I remember you two…hey wait a minute, are you the girl who wrote about us on her website?

Now, normally this is a really cool thing…when someone remembers or recognizes me from this site. But in that moment, I couldn’t remember exactly what I had written. I knew it was a good review because I loved this place…but I can be a tad bit snarky.  So for about ten seconds, I feared what he may have read.

Me: Um, yeah…yeah, that was me.

Georgio: That was a great website! It’s so happy! Most of these sites are so depressing these days.

Me: (sigh of relief) Yes, it is a pretty optimistic site.

Georgio: You were like a spy, though. I didn’t even see you taking those pictures! You two…you’re like coffee spies!

We proceeded to chat for a while about various things…coffee, Columbia, reviews and newspapers. But most importantly, we were proud to report that we had moved up in the coffee world. We have gone from owning a drip coffee maker to using a french press daily. It’s true what everyone says…coffee from a french press is SO MUCH BETTER.

Georgio: You like the French Press?  I hope you kept that receipt. I’m going to show you something that will blow your mind. Make sure you got that camera ready.

He winked at me as he pulled out this contraption that looked like a bong…a big, antique coffee bong. The grinds go into the top, water into the bottom and then you light this big flame. The water boils into the top part and then when you remove the heat, the vacuum causes the coffee to drip back down into the bulb-like bottom part. And I have to admit, the coffee tasted amazing. It was smooth and free of the grit you usually find in a French Press brew.

It looks a little too expensive (and not to mention breakable) for me to own…and the fact you have to handle that rather large, open flame at least twice a day five times a week; well, anyone who knows me knows that would be a detriment to my apartment and all my belongings.  But what a cool way to brew coffee! We ended up buying a completely new kind of bean that neither of us has had before…a Bourbon Selecto Puerto Rico. It’s supposed to be the best and according to Georgio, it’s the greatest flavor we’ll ever taste. And you don’t argue with Georgio!

Once again, the experience was wonderful. Georgio was entertaining, his wife–lovely as ever, and the atmosphere, warm.  I have a feeling that a visit to Georgio’s will never fail to produce a great story.

This is my favorite coffee cup. It’s a ceramic mug, but the design is based off the paper cups you receive with deli coffee. And anyone who’s been to New York before probably knows that most deli coffee is some of the best in the city. Better than Starbucks, better than Dunkin Donuts, even better than most $5 cups of coffee you buy at gourmet places.

I can’t explain it…maybe it’s something in the greasy atmosphere of the deli’s that makes it so good. It’s like how a ballgame hotdog will always taste way better than gourmet vienna sausage or any sort of well done sabrett.

According to USA Today, this diner (The Red Arrow Diner) is considered to be one of the top ten best diners in the United States. And it was good–the coffee was good. The eggs and hash browns were good. But, by far, the greatest thing on that menu was the Egg Nog French Toast. And I’ve never actually had egg nog, the drink, but if it tastes anything like that french toast, then I know what I’ll be getting wasted to on Christmas Eve!

Just kidding…haha. Haha. Right.

Anyway, the diner and its coffee comes highly recommended from me, though I’m not sure I agree that it deserves to be in the TOP TEN IN THE US. That’s a pretty lofty honor. In any case, if you wish to try it, it can be found in Manchester, NH.

The problem with having a weekly coffee column and no job…is that I can’t afford to go into all my usual places I love so much and order a cup of coffee. So, you’re stuck seeing the outdoor pics. Someday, when I have an income, I’ll be able to show you the interior of all these great places.

This is one of my favorite west village coffee shops, Cafe Angelique. The cinnamochachino is to die for. It’s like Heaven. In a mug.

This is the sludge they serve us at the office. Otherwise known as “coffee” though it definitely doesn’t taste or smell like coffee. Don’t be deceived by that disposable cup or the creamy color in the photograph. This so-called “coffee” is essentially water with a little sugar and a bit of non-dairy creamer.

This here is Georgio’s Coffee in Jericho, NY.  It is the most charming little coffee shop and I’ve never met an owner more passionate about coffee.

Georgio is Italian and his wife is Columbian. Together they have traveled to the five main countries where they buy their beans from, and if I’m not mistaken, I believe they own a couple of the coffee farms. They collect antique coffee equipment and this one pictured at the top here is the only (Pulp grinder I think it’s called?) of its kind in the United States.

The space itself is a little cluttered and chaotic, but in my opinion it adds to the charm and reflects the enthusiasm that Georgio himself exudes. Though not known for their individual cups of coffee, they still sell them, though the owner will most certainly push you to buy a bag of beans as well.

“What kind of coffee you like?” He asked in a gruff tone.

“Well, I like dark roasts typically. I usually buy an Italian roast.”

“Wow, so you like coffee that puts hair on your chest!”

“Er–I guess. Though not litera–”

“Do you prefer Dunkin Donuts or Starbucks?” He cut me off mid sentence.

“Dunkin’….but only because Starbucks coffee always tastes burnt to me.”

“Interesting. Because Dunkin’ is a light roast. Starbucks is very dark. That’s the burnt flavor you taste.”

“Oh, wow…so I like dark roasts, but not extra dark roasts.”

“Exactly. What kind of coffee maker you got?”

“Flat bottom filter, drip machine.”

“Well, well, well…you know your coffee more than most people.”

I shrugged and smiled. “I’m a connoisseur.”

Seriously…he was such a kind, friendly man. And his wife, though much softer spoken, was equally kind. If you ever find yourself in Long Island, you should go out of your way to find this place!

This is Bread Stuy…the only coffee shop in the part of Bed Stuy where we live. Bread Stuy…in Bed Stuy…haha. Get it? Ahhh, clever.

Anyway, it’s not the most perfect place…the coffee can sometimes taste like the sludge you see on kitchen equipment that hasn’t been cleaned in a while. And it’s usually cramped with tons of people and uncomfortable seating. But they have free wifi and a really nice outdoor patio area and some of the best red velvet cake I’ve ever had. Seriously? The cream cheese icing? It almost makes living in this awful neighborhood worth it. Almost–but not really.

I turned into the small suburban strip mall.  I had one day left to find the perfect gifts for my family.  Why didn’t I shop sooner? I live in New York City for Christ’s sake!  I pushed the thought from my mind.  That wasn’t going to help anything now.

My tires squealed in pain as I skidded into a parking space. Talbots.  I’m sure I can find something for my mom and sister here.  I got out of the car, slinging my purse over my shoulder and slammed the door.  To my left was Talbots. To my right was Starbucks.  It couldn’t hurt to grab a coffee first.  I picked up my pace, excited to get my usual Christmas coffee: a grande gingerbread white mocha latte.  It was pure, creamy heaven and my mouth watered at the thought of it.

I placed my order with the barrista and waited while they brewed the espresso. On the shelf in front of me were travel coffee mugs…a perfect gift for my brother, another caffeine addict.  I grabbed two, one that was brown with a matte silver thermos and one that was pink leather with brown trim…for myself of course.  I tucked one under my arm as I grabbed the turquoise mug for a closer look.  Hm, blue or pink?  Blue…or…pink.  Good question. As I stood thinking, my phone vibrated in my purse. “Oh, shit,” I said aloud.  “Um…” I set the turquoise much back on the shelf and the pink one slipped from under my arm, landing on the floor with a loud clatter.  “Shit!” I whispered to myself.  The phone continued buzzing as I bent down to retrieve the fallen mug. “Um, hold on a sec!” I knew the caller couldn’t hear me.  Stuffing my slender hand deep into my purse, I grabbed my phone, accidentally hitting the speaker button.                                                                                                                                                                       “Ms. Katana? This is Dr. Sanji’s office calling from East Side Gynecology…”

“Oh God. Hold on a moment!” I yelled into the speakerphone as I dropped the second travel mug.  The Starbucks employees looked my direction obviously annoyed and a couple of the customers sipping coffee also looked up, staring.

“I’m calling with the results of your pap smear…”  Her voice was surprisingly clear for talking over speakerphone.

“Wait!” I shrieked, my face growing hot.

“…everything looks clear. No chlamydia, no HPV, no syphilis. We’ll see you in about a year for your next appointment.”

I sighed.  “Ok,” I gave in, “see you in a year.” I added then hung up.  The fallen mug still rested at my feet and when I bent down to retrieve it, I heard my name from an excited voice I immediately recognized.  I glanced up and saw the face I knew would be standing there.

“Ian!  Hi.” I was frazzled.  Brushing my hair from my face, I stuck out my hand to shake Ian’s as he leaned in for a hug.  I felt the cotton of his pants and flesh below the material. I didn’t want to know what part of his anatomy I just grabbed.  “Sorry,” I said quickly then leaned in for a quick, awkward hug.

“How are you?” He smiled wide, not noticing the uncomfortable moment.  Or not acknowledging it.  I’m not sure which.

“Hey, Colleen,” Jenna stood right beside him.  Coach Cunt.  And she was fat.  Ok, ok she was pregnant.  But still.  It was oddly satisfying to see her with a huge belly.  She continued talking despite my tight smile, “You look exactly the same!  I would recognize you anywhere!”  It was one of those compliments that you knew wasn’t really a compliment.  It was condescending and said in such a way that all you could respond with was ‘thank you.’  But I refused.  I knew I didn’t look the same.  Similar? Yes.  The same? No.                                                                                                                                                                          “Really?” I smiled, giving it back to her, “I was about to say the opposite to you!  Especially, you know.” I drew a circle with my hands around my abdomen, being sure to draw the circle much larger than she actually was.

She returned my smile.  But behind it, irritation surfaced. I wasn’t lying; not saying anything meaner than she said to me.  She didn’t look the same.  Her hair was graying and wrinkles framed her eyes and mouth. That’s what you get for marrying a woman 16 years older than you.

“You look great,” I added.  And actually, I had to admit that for being pregnant, she did look pretty good.  It was the type of pregnancy that looked like she had stuffed a basketball under her shirt.  But nothing else looked any different.  Her legs were fit, her arms were toned, and she didn’t have any swelling in her face or ankles.

I looked back over at Ian. He, however, looked different in a good way.  More filled out, now with a goatee, but his cheeks, those chipmunk cheeks of his, never thinned out.  Oddly, I felt nothing for him.  A bit of nostalgia, but that was the extent of it.  “Congratulations, you two,” And I actually meant this. My hatred was entirely gone and I felt a tug at my guts.  I only wished I could have told the man I had been dating how much I actually cared for him. But I also knew how scared he was of commitment and pressuring a relationship on someone who wasn’t ready was a surefire way to lose that person.

I hugged both Ian and Jenna one last time. “Have a great Christmas.”  I left Starbucks, grabbing my gingerbread white mocha latte and sadly headed toward Talbots, cursing myself for having even stopped into Starbucks in the first place. This whole scenario could have been avoided if I could just kick this coffee habit.