My comfort, my staple
It's coffee. If asked what her mama likes to do, my 5-year-old daughter inevitably replies, "Drink coffee." Coffee and I have a long relationship, going back to when I was also 5 years old and would finish the last of my mom's cold McDonald's decaf that remained in her styrofoam cup at the end of the afternoon. I started occassionally drinking it hot at age 11 despite adults' warnings that it would stunt my growth (at 5'6" I'm ok with whatever effects the coffee did or didn't have). In college when coffee became cool and friends stomached it with syrups, drizzles, and whipped cream, I drank it black with no sugar. This didn't give me bragging rights; I just loved the flavor of the real deal.
When we first moved to Lisbon over a year and a half ago, I was pleased to learn that the Portuguese are also obsessed with coffee. Their espresso is rich and short, full of flavor and depth. And you can order it at least ten different ways. The ambiance in which you drink it, however, feels seriously stale, cold, unambitious. Typical Portuguese cafés nearly all look the same--or at least they all have the same feel. Tile floors (though not the cool kind of Portuguese ceramic tiles), metal or plastic chairs that screech across the floor, blue LED lighting hanging in mismatched and broken fixtures, tables all lined up in rows. In short, traditional cafés here serve fresh and delicious bakery and coffee, but with little thought to attention or detail. So I found myself still seeking out one of the three Starbucks in the city if I wanted to sip my coffee slowly and do what I'm doing now--writing, reading, reflecting, or having a chat.
I don't know what changed, or how tastes shifted, though I suspect it has to do with the massive influx of expatriates and foreign tourists in Lisbon. A few weeks ago I met a friend for coffee and suggested a cafe that had been around for months that I hadn't tried. Their concept is coffee and a selection of indie magazines that you can read while you sip on a flat white (Hello, Kristoff, on Poço dos Negros 103). Despite their sign saying that they open at 9am, the shop was entirely dark at 8:55. So I wandered around that area and stumbled upon four other cafés that are quaint, warm, and have a clear identity. I am definitely adding to my list of coffee shops to test out. Not surprisingly, I have run into other expats I know. Lisbon is that small, and I'm clearly not the only one on the hunt for delicious coffee AND a beautiful space in which to drink it.
