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| 15 May 2004 - Jet Fuel
Jets need fuel to fly; people need fuel to fly, especially those of us who REQUIRE coffee in order to function on a level anywhere above comatose. I happen to be one of those people, and coffee, for me, is the thing that begins my day. I have tried giving it up on a few occasions, but it just doesn't seem to take and I get right back on that strong, dark, gorgeous bandwagon with the rest of the caffeine-worshipers. Yesterday S. took the day off (he is going to use up many of his accumulated days off this summer, taking long weekends since I don't work either Mondays or Fridays on a regular basis) and we were sitting in the living room at about 9:30, showered, dressed, and wanting to get outside before the humidity took over the city, making it so smoggy that I wouldn't be able to breathe. I knew I needed a coffee and wasn't in the mood to pay $5 for it at Starbuck's. I also wanted a little bite to eat, but wasn't willing to invest the abdominal real estate necessary for a full breakfast. All of a sudden it hit him -- Jet Fuel. No, we weren't heading out to the 'burbs to watch the airplanes or to some new, loud bar for a drink -- apparently my boyfriend has knowledge I don't about places in a city he has lived in for four years and I have lived in almost all my life. Oddly enough, Jet Fuel (519 Parliament Street), a hip, cozy, relaxed coffee shop was only about a ten minute walk from our apartment, in an older area of the city known as Cabbagetown. Shoes on, sunglasses perched atop my head, a smile on both of our faces, we bid the cat adieu and ventured out into the warm morning. On our way we passed a nice-looking bakery, a great pet food store, a few flower shops and some really gorgeous houses...Cabbagetown just happens to be one of my favourite areas of the city. I did in fact live there about a dozen years ago for one summer, sub-letting a friend's apartment. I'd forgotten just how much of a jewel this very small area was though, until yesterday. I reminded S. very much of a little school-girl, bubbling on about the houses and the stores and how nice the area was. Upon arriving at our destination we were hit in the face with the stunning smell of coffee. Nice. Nicer was the relaxing atmosphere redolent of a small cafe somewhere in Italy (not that I have EVER been to Italy, but give me some creative licence here). It was mostly full of men, standing and sitting, with newspapers strewn around, coffee cups sitting just in reach of their fingers, relaxed and happy looks on their faces and obvious in their stances. The decor is shabby chic, melding easily with the retro (possibly original?) fixtures. The piece de resistance, two droolingly gorgeous antique espresso makers stood behind a stainless steel bar running two-thirds of the length of the place. Some very cool photographs and eclectic art share the deep red walls.We walked to the back, found a table and I sat, S. walking back to the front to order a double cappuccino and a danish for me, a hot chocolate and blueberry muffin for himself. The cappuccino, served in a pint glass, with foam to rival any delicious beer, was perfection. I was of course, primed for a good cup of coffee, having read the "reviews" of the place prior to leaving the house, but I doubt that I have had a better cup of coffee. Not so hot to be rendered undrinkable, not cold in the least. No need for sugar, just a long straw or spoon to stir some of that foam into it to ensure not missing out on any of it. I had found my new favourite coffee shop. S., while he enjoyed his hot chocolate was a bit disappointed at the fact that it wasn't quite sweet enough -- he is a fan of milk chocolate, so a drink made of cocoa (delicious cocoa even) wasn't quite his perfect beverage. My only complaint were the pastries. I love bakery sweets. I bake desserts and pastries. It was on the slightly stale side. These were not so good. I guess we could have gotten there a bit earlier and enjoyed a fresher version (S.'s muffin was a bit stale as well)...or I'm certain that today (Saturday) there would be a fresh batch, but if you're going to serve pastries with your absolutely amazing cappuccino, shouldn't you also serve them fresh? I have considered offering my services...even just walking over there with a batch and asking if they want to try selling a few of my cake-lets or tart-lets...of course, the whole time we were there all I kept talking about was how I would love to open a place like that. I'd hire a wicked barrista to man the cappuccino machine and bake all day. Get to know my customers and have wonderful time. Keep dreaming, Jennifer.
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