We nipped into what looks like a tourist attraction for coffee drinkers: the new Sbux Reserve Roastery, which is a massive 3-storey coffee bar that serves boutique lattes (select your own espresso), baked goods unheard of by the drive-through gang (a peach tart called something regal in Italian, for instance), and cold-brew cocktails(!).
It's a rather precious place, with employees dressed up as Dickensian street pedlars, many of whom were hawking wares from stylish wooden peddlar carts just inside the doors. And then there's the enormous coffee roaster, glistening in copper with all sorts of pipes overhead transporting . . . beans? Kind of Willy Wonka meets Nicholas Nickelby.
Pure "beanpunk" (TM Miss C).
It had opened just the other week--December 14--and the novelty and exceptional good mood throughout felt fresh. Even I, usually loathe to photograph my meals, snapped a photo of our order, brought to us on a sturdy wooden tray.
Actually, this roastery reminded me of a restoration project I'd engaged in on our long car ride toward Christmas. The cuffs of my beloved Max Mara tweed coat were feeling a bit worn, so I made some binding from my stash of Liberty of London fabric and renewed them while Mr. C drove. The dark Liberty hues against the brown tweed summon up Dickens' London for me.
And as I wore my revitalized tweed coat in the somewhat fantastical roastery, I felt a not altogether unpleasant combination of Dickensian urchin and coffee astronaut. (Miss Coffeenaut, peut-etre?)
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