High energy music reverberates against the brick walls and recycled planks that form the bar. FDR smiles benevolently on the baristas from the confines of his 8X10 black-framed photo. The clank of coffee cups on saucers and the hiss of the cappuccino machine blend with the voices of Saturday morning patrons who balance cheek-by-jowl on stools made from recycled lumber.
The baristas maneuver in a well-choreographed dance, skimming but never bumping one another in their narrow prep space.
And despite the packed house, I’m impressed with everyone’s patience. Some things are just worth waiting for, and cup of well-roasted coffee is one of them.