I have finally come to a point in my life where I've learned how to be on time. Chalk it up to a job I like. Chalk it up to maturity. Whatever it is, it suits me well. Know why? When you're early, you have extra minutes to explore the unknown in this town, and I'm the most curious of cats. That being said, I arrived uptown for work super early last week and decided to walk down 58th street to see what I could find. It was a bit out of the way, but I've never explored 58th between 5th and 6th Avenues, so I turned the corner into unknown territory.
Traipsing along in the sleepy rain, I came across a grey awning with the words "Fika" and "Espresso Bar". Since I hadn't had my morning coffee yet, I decided to go in. Inside was this tiny, white tiled space with a glass case full of confectionary delights and a bearded man pulling coffee from a mod espresso machine. There was a patient line of neighbors and workers from the nearby (and newly demolished) Plaza Hotel, and it smelled like coffee heaven. While waiting, I discovered that Fika is New York City's "First Swedish Espresso Bar" specializing in Lofbergs Lila's Swedish coffee beans as well as assorted Swedish snacks and chocolate. The aesthetic was clean and minimal, and I pretended I was in an undiscovered Ingmar Bergman film.
When it was my turn, the delightful bearded man took my coffee order with a smile and then smiled again as he handed it over. He said, "WAIT! I must-a-give you da cover for da coffee so ya not burn ya hand!" He put on the cover, then motioned for me to "fill da cup of da coffee with da chocolate!" To my left was a two tiered tower of both white and dark chocolate chips for da fillin' of da cup. HELLO, FAVORITE COFFEE PLACE EVER.
I got off the subway again this morning and realized, yet again, that I had 15 minutes to kill. It would be a Fika morning! I entered the sugar cube space and was met by the smiling Delightful Bearded Man and this diminuitive elderly woman who must have been a neighbor. I stood in line behind her. When her turn came, Delightful Bearded Man lunged over the counter and embraced this woman with arms full of Swedish rainbows and sunshine. He whispered, "How are ya, my angel?" She squealed with delight. An 8 year old in an 80 year old body. She said, "I am wonderful, my dear. What do you have for me today?" He motioned towards the back of the shop to a unseen area and replied, "Fresh orange juice for my sweet." It was a verbal tennis match of loveliness.
Delightful Bearded Man then took my order warning me again to not burn da hands. On my way out, I heard his Angel asking about his weekend. Having forgotten to add my chocolate chips, I sipped the sweetness of their plesantries.
This has nothing to do with Bjorn Borg, but I really like the music of Peter Bjorn and John and urge you to check them out. Also, please visit Fika sometime if you either live in or plan on visiting New York.
