The Fall Cafe

The Fall Cafe, on Smith St. between President and Union Sts.

Saturday coffee is better than Sunday coffee, because there aren't a ton of assholes at the coffeeshop. I had some work to do, and though I spend too many hours in front of my computer at home, she is a laptop, and work needs doing, so I dragged her to the coffeeshop around the corner for some change of scenery and a nice mug of joe.

A great thing about the Fall Cafe is the $2.50 mug of coffee that comes with two refills. It's basically asking you to hang out for a bit. And although summer prompts me to get iced coffees, Saturday was rainy. I staked out a nice table by the window, and ordered this mug, and some granola with steamed milk. The whole thing cost about $6.

Here's the thing. I didn't tip. I've worked in the food service industry for a number of years, and consider myself a generous tipper. But it's the tip jars that started appearing everywhere that has given me pause outside, what I consider, normal tip-giving establishments. Tip jars at coffeeshops, delis, laundrymats, I once saw a tip jar at a photocopy store, basically everywhere commerce is performed there seems to be a tip jar. I don't know if that's just playing on or maybe exploiting the American urge to tip a job well done OR if cheapskate employers pay their workers less and justify it by putting out a tip jar. I assume it's the former, but sometimes I get a nasty look if I don't toss my change or a buck in the jar. Yesterday at the Fall Cafe was one of those days.

No biggie. The granola was good, the coffee piping hot, it was a nice day spent watching the rain fall outside. Every other table was filled with other folks on laptops. When I worked for Starbucks for that month in college, I had to read all this corporate literature about what this "third space" is, and how coffeeshops, like bars for drunks, should be a completely enjoyable space that isn't work and isn't home, but should maintain positives of both those two environments. I think Fall Cafe does a fine job at being that third space.

Another coffee and granola enjoyed all alone.

Le Pain Quotidien

Le Pain Quotidien, Bryant Park Location, 40th St. between 5th and 6th Aves.

OK, I was in a pinch, I had been running around a bit, found myself in one of the armpits of Manhattan culinary options - the midtown fashion district area - so I stepped in from out of the rain for a midday snack, alone.

So Le Pain Quotidien is a chain of these french places that focus on espresso drinks and "artisinal" foods. Like "rustic" chicken salad, and "farmhouse" eggs. They play very soft classical music and as I walked in I was instantly an adult. I felt an air of importance (not really), and my back straightened and I pretended I had a real job like the others seated around me - with laptops and in business attire.

There were various servers in olive green t-shirts busying themselves with the lunchtime rush, but I was soon seated at the communal table - a long table made of untreated wood with stale loaves of bread serving as holders for various menus and cards.

Three different people came up to me over the course of the meal but no one asked the same questions - so they must just be in sync. I ordered the roast beef sandwich with a caper mayo, garnished with mixed greens and cornichons. One of the servers said it's tasty and "more filling" than the avocado sandwich I also had my eye on.

The sandwich came out, and it was very small. Four thin slices of roast beef on four thin triangles of their special bread. I wondered how small the avocado sandwich must've been. It was tasty, I gave them that, and I mused over whether French people smirk and twist their moustaches whenever Americans see a "normal" portion of food and look forlorn. But, to be real, being 6'2" I need more nourishment than most. I decided to not order an entire other meal, which I honestly was capable of. I finished my English Breakfast tea, and asked for the bill.

$15.07 for everything, the tip brought it to $18.00

I'm not sure what to make of this place. I've been a couple of times, the experience always okay. No reason to go there specifically, no reason to not go. I think it's fine for a cappuccino on a rainy day.

An adequate meal enjoyed alone.

Dojo West

Dojo West located at the corner of Mercer and W. 4th Sts. in Manhattan.
*also, I figured out how to upload photos. Awesome.

I used to go to NYU, and this place was a perennial favorite. It's cheap, it's tasty, and most of the time it's pretty quick. It has been said that this place doesn't exactly put hygiene at the top of their priority list, but after 9 years, I've only noticed one crusty water cup.

Today, I had a few auditions, was in the neighborhood and decided to stop by for lunch. I sat at the bar, as usual, and the friendly bartender asked why I hadn't been around - very nice to be recognized as a regular.

I knew what I wanted and ordered right away - Grilled Chicken Salad with a side of brown rice.

A positive thing Dojo is known for is their carrot ginger dressing which comes with the salad. It is a little piece of heaven on earth. The food came quickly and I dived in, slathering the salad and brown rice with the dressing. A nice midday protein punch.

A friendly guy at the bar started a conversation, he's living in the city for a few months, summer vacation - he's a schoolteacher in California. Another guy at the bar was talking loudly on his cellphone, it was busy at the Dojo but not too harried.

Within 25 minutes of walking in, I was ready for my check. $9.20 for the entire meal, $12 with tip.

I love this place for what it is, and the people both behind the bar and sitting at it tend to be very friendly. Another delicious meal enjoyed alone.

Union Smith Cafe

Union Smith Cafe, appropriately located on the corner of Smith St. and Union St.
*I gotta figure out a way to add photos. To think - my first blog! Livejournal doesn't count, and please, I was in college.

Sunday brunch, I had a hangover (thank you Brooklyn Social) and needed coffee and eggs. So I went to Union Smith Cafe. By myself.

Eggs Benedict - subbed out the homefries for french fries (something to always consider, very very few places have good homefries, whereas french fries are hard to fuck up)

It was just okay. A little bland actually. And they serve the eggs, and from what I could tell by looking at other people's plates everything else, with cantaloupe. That awful geriatric fruit. I tasted it and I was back in Clearwater, Florida with my great-grandparents, and I'm 7, and everything is teal and pink and smells like mothballs.

The coffee was served in an enormous mug - me likey. And it was scalding hot, which I have no problem with.

I sat at the bar, and the bartender was ok. I was hungover, he didn't seem to like his job, we had no desire for chitchat.

The bill was 13.86, plus 3 buck til brings the tab to 17. My rule is unless the service really sucks, 20% is the rule. And if it's a small bill, that extra dollar or so does wonders.

I'd go back and try something else. The french toast looked tasty.

Another meal enjoyed all alone.