Roebling paste up

There was a period of about six weeks where my bike was out of commission thanks to a busted rear axle. All of a sudden, everything became so much further away: what used to be a 7-minute ride was now a 40-minute walk. But there was one celebrated ritual, albeit a short-lived one, that I developed during those days as a pedestrian. The 25-minute walk to the Saturday farmer's market took me passed one of my favourite neighbourhood coffee shops to pick up a cup of drip or americano (depending on my mood), and then down Roebling towards the park where the market was set up.

It was on the northern end of Roebling, where it turns into a warehouse wasteland with forgotten loading docks infringing upon the sidewalk, that I encountered some of my favourite graffiti in the city: paste ups by some unknown artist. Every week on that walk, I would pause, coffee burning my fingers through the paper cup and mitten, and admire these beautiful portraits.

Now I'm back on the saddle, and though I love my two-wheeled steed, I often wonder how much I miss when my feet push pedals rather than pavement.

CONSUMED: Roebling Ave, between N9th and N10th; Williamsburg (Brooklyn)

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P.S. If you can identify the artist, please let me know! I would love to give her/him credit for their work.

americano walk-up window

"You guys really need coffee at the farmers market." I was talking to my friend over bread loaves stacked high at his bakery stand at the Greenpoint greenmarket.

"Well at least there's Five Leaves now."

"What?"

"It's that new place on the corner. They have a walk-up window that only does americanos."

"Really?"

I was aghast. I mean, it wasn't farmers market coffee (under the rules of being local, coffee doesn't qualify), but it was the next best thing (choose the closest storefront to the park and sell coffee there). And so we went for americanos, served to us from a window on to the street. And all of a sudden, the market became THAT much more amazing.

CONSUMED: Five Leaves; 18 Bedford Ave, Greenpoint (Brooklyn)

ginormous French press

Friday started out perfect. Cloudless azure sky, piercing sun, and a brisk wind that called for jackets (scarves optional). It sounded like fall, leaves crunching beneath feet and the echo of schoolyard chatter.

And breakfast. Oh the breakfast. We had to add a table to the end of ours because so many people turned out. But that's the way it's should be: continually adding people to the table. I ordered the Eggs Rothko (brioche toast with a hole cut out for an egg, topped with white cheddar) with the seasonal greens (kale!). Coffees all round!

The coffee came before the food, naturally. But it came in the largest French press I've ever seen. There must have been a pound of coffee in there (hyperbole)! I've been nursing a new addiction ever since my new roommate moved in. And seeing that huge vat of coffee just sealed the deal: there's nowhere else I'd rather be at this moment.

CONSUMED: Egg; 135 N 5th St, Williamsburg (Brooklyn)

rooibos latte

"We're out of cocoa." I think I must have pouted a little, because the barista was quick to react: "But you're looking for something non-caffeinated? How about something off-menu?" Intrigued, I asked him to expound on his suggestion. Rooibos tea put into the espresso basket and brewed like espresso? Then filled up with steamed milk just like a latte? Yes please!

And after adding half a pack of sugar (as I am wont to do with rooibos), I sat down and sipped the warm concoction, down to the dregs, accompanied by a good friend and healthy serving of laughter.

CONSUMED: Agro Cafe; Granville Island (in Railspur Alley), Vancouver