Uncovering London
(Inspired by the novel, Invisible Cities, by Italo Calvino)
(Originally written in 2015 as part of a larger final project for Virginia Tech study abroad program)
In a city where Café Nero and Costa Coffee chains seduce tourists and residents on every block, I set out to discover the lesser-known, hidden café treasures tucked away in London, England. The city’s bustling neighborhoods provide an abundance of shops, but three beacons of coffee shined brighter than the rest, providing havens of java goodness for coffee lovers such as myself.
TAP Coffee No. 114 (now known as Department of Coffee and Social Affairs)
A chalkboard sign points “BETTER COFFEE” into a corner café painted black. Floor- to-ceiling windows help this tiny shop feel spacious, while also proving to be impeccable tools for people-watching. A black bicycle replaces a traditional sign above the front door, drawing in the curious passersby.
Folk-rock fills the room, reverberating off the giant vintage mirrors that display the daily menu in white marker. Behind the counter stands the barista, greeting a constant flow of customers with a genuine smile. TAP No. 114 is one of three locations (No. 26 and No.193 are the others) and is my personal favorite. This café boasts a rustic-industrial decor. Exposed light bulbs suspend from long chords above the counter, which is carved from a tree trunk. There are only eight small, wooden tables, and I manage to snag one. I sit on its attached bench, sipping creamy milk and espresso from a jam jar. On each table, brown sugar granules gather in old molasses tins, and I use an antique, silver teaspoon to scoop some into my iced latte. TAP has a very minimalistic quality to it. Everything feels so simple and relaxed.
The iced latte is sweet, almost a bit fruity, and I gulp it down in mere moments. Wanting to try something else, I head back to the counter to examine the menu again. Following the theme of simplicity, TAP keeps a concise menu, but makes sure every drink is on par with excellence. Essentials like flat whites and cappuccinos are crafted with precision. One of the baristas recommends I give their homemade cold brew a go. He grabs me a glass bottle from a large, silver ice bucket and begins explaining their brewing process.
While detailing for me the filtering and steeping methods used, the barista’s face is bright with passion. From the first sip to the last, there is no denying the tremendous quality of the beverage. It’s clear that not only is the staff well-educated on their craft, they are dedicated to providing a product that brings pure, caffeinated joy to customers.
My Village Café
The wooden front door stays propped open, gesturing the caffeine-deprived people of Camden Town inside for a Spicy Iced Mocha. One step through and I am transported to a little bohemian village. Multitudes of colorful tapestries drape the brick walls. The tables are smoothed tree trunks, as are the surrounding benches and stools. Hand-woven pillows of bright blue, green, red, and orange cushion each seat. A guitar serenades the village guests over the speakers, strumming a Mediterranean lullaby.
As I approach the counter, the store owner welcomes me with a warm smile and a shallow bowl filled with a sampling of their soup-of-the-day. My taste buds greet the spicy, chickpea broth with pleasure. Their menu is packed with intriguing options and everything is vegetarian: lentil stews, spicy feta pies, Nutella cake, cashew and fruit smoothies. I order a plate of homemade hummus served with pita and their specialty, the Spicy Mocha. The deliciously rich drink is infused with ginger, giving my throat a spicy tingle with each sip.
Sitting on a log stool, I gaze around the whole room. This place is the antithesis of coffee chains. The cozy back corner of the café looks like a bookshop. The walls hold fully stocked bookshelves over a long desk. Stacked on the desk are board games, puzzles, and a chess set, available for anyone’s use. A sign reads “Mobile-free Zone.” Lanterns hanging on the walls provide a warm glow. At the storefront, fliers and posters cover a large cork board. Local bands promote their upcoming shows, tenants search for flatmates, people share art events and job opportunities.
As well as promoting no cellphone use, there is no WiFi available here. I notice a large sticker on the community corkboard that states, “I talk to strangers.” My curiosity greatly heightens, and I ask the waitress about this. She kindly shares that the sticker lets people know that My Village Café welcomes conversation with anyone. The owners hope to instill a sense of camaraderie throughout their establishment. The café, she continues, holds events where people can come together for food and drink, socialize with complete strangers, and leave with new friends.
The longer I sit here the more I believe I’ve stumbled into a quaint, Mediterranean treasure trove. Colorful ceramic pots, teakettles, and vases decorate wood planks tacked above the front counter. An antique, wooden cart holds royal blue teacups on saucers for sale. This is no ordinary café. From diverse décor to community bond, this little shop strives on making people feel welcome. One enters the village anonymous, but truly leaves as a friend.
Notes Music and Coffee
There’s nothing I love more than a great cup of coffee. But a close second is a nice glass of wine. I find both in a charming café, hidden amongst constant crowds in the tourist trap of Trafalgar Square.
Strong wafts of roasting espresso greet me as I open the door, and already I feel awakened. Inside, high ceilings provide a spacious yet welcoming feel, as does the long serving bar with bench seats by the entrance. After studying the giant slabs of chalkboard presenting the menu, I place my order and look for an empty table.
Amidst the madness of the masses outside on the street, I nearly walked right past the cream-colored “Notes” decal on the store’s window. On the inside, it is surprisingly roomy. Toward the back of the café there is an assortment of tables, varying in size. In the center of the room, placed under a large black chandelier, is a communal table. This very long, rectangular table invites patrons to share their space with other people they do not know, promoting an inviting, community-focused atmosphere.
The barista delivers my Americano to my table and I take a sip. The bitter espresso packs a real caffeinated punch, and I immediately feel rejuvenation. While surveying my surroundings, my eyes drift toward four floor-length shelves, fully stocked with wine. The expression that forms on my face is nothing short of elation. Grabbing the laminated menu booklet on my table, I flip through pages of mouthwatering paninis, cakes, and pastries and finally find the explanation for the multitude of wine. At night, this delightful coffee shop transforms into a swanky wine bar, holding live jazz performances on the weekends.
Notes is a café for anyone to enjoy. There is no specific category; it is not tailored to one type of person. A group of women sip tea and chat softly behind me. A mother and her two young children have lunch together at another table. Men dressed in suits discuss their upcoming meeting over cappuccinos. Although from outside this charming shop is easy to gloss over, you’ll be incredibly glad you didn’t with that first step inside.