The Trimethyldioxypurist Gets Sentimental
Your overwhelming response from the survey last week pretty much indicated that you are happy to have your Trimethyldioxypurist continue to serve as the rudder on this ship. In other words, thanks for those of you who wrote in; your opinions are greatly appreciated. It appears as if the rest of y'all are happy to let us make the decisions. (Of course, it ain't too late to respond; see last week's entry)
Since we're making the decisions, we've decided to talk about Cup-A-Joe.
We've dreaded this moment, but we can't put it off anymore. See, the Trimethyldioxypurist's long-time favorite coffee house has never even been mentioned on this site.
Why? Well, there are problems. We love Cup-A-Joe so much, it felt nepotistic to write about.
(Not that we usually have a problem with a bit o'nepotism).
We also feel so close to it -- Cup-A-Joe is our neighborhood place. We currently live in Nob Hill; Cup-A-Joe is lovingly nestled in the so-called "Tender Nob." There are about three years straight that we went there every damned day, sometimes twice. Now we only go about once a week (writing this very feature is a main driver behind our waning frequency), but we still look forward to going.
But now it seems that your Trimethyldioxypurist is moving to another part of the 7x7. While this will open a Pandora's Box of places to overindulge, overcaffeinate, and overanalyze, it's bittersweet for us. Accordingly, we wanted to share our thoughts on Cup-A-Joe before it's no longer our neighborhood hangout.
Here is why we love Cup-A-Joe, on Sutter at Leavenworth (896 Sutter Street, to be precise):
It's not that the coffee's good. That is, the coffee is pretty damned good, but the appeal of Cup-A-Joe goes way beyond the daily drip.
It's not that the staff, despite how the faces have changed in our six years of patronage, are always really great folks.
It's not just the open, airy interior and the distinctive atmosphere where, like so many San Francisco java joints, art from locals hangs about the place.
It's not that the music is consistently good, yet at a volume appropriate enough that our own headphones can block it if need be.
It's not that Cup-A-Joe was like our second home when we were out of work for a whole damned year.
Oh, wait. Yes it is. That's precisely it. Or a symptom of why we like it so much, anyway.
Cup-A-Joe is the kind of place you can sit for hours. And people do. It can be rather irritating if you're trying to get a table there, but it's great if you're lucky enough to find some prime real estate. Almost like a mini San Francisco. There are some Innerweb-for-pay stations on stools; patrons regularly plug in their own laptops though.
It's a great crowd. Being on the fringes of Nob Hill, the 'Loin, and pretty close to Union Square give it a great cross-section of visitors. Plenty of people stop by on their way to or on their way back from shopping. There are neighborhood folks -- a pretty consistent core group of locals, art students, whoever, just working, studying, or chatting away the day. But, aside from the occasional lack of available tables, going to Cup-A-Joe is in no way exclusive or prohibitive. Anyone is welcome. And the outdoor tables are great on a nice day.
The coffee is quality. In a nutshell: the drip exhibits a medium flavor with a pleasant acidity; perfect for drinking way too much over extended periods of time. Espresso drinks are also good, if not exceptional. The flavor isn't deep (like, for instance, at Boulange de Polk), nor especially vibrant (a la Blue Bottle, Phil'z) but it is consistent, pleasing, and aromatic. Cup-A-Joe makes a great foam on the cappuccino too. And it's reasonably priced (see picture below).
I guess the point is that the main appeal of Cup-A-Joe is the community feel. The cliched "where everybody knows your name," or, at a minimum, a place where the staff tend to remember your drinks.
So, in any case, thanks for indulging us in this love letter to a long-time friend -- and check out Cup-A-Joe if you happen to be in the neighborhood. We aren't likely to have opportunities to go there much anymore. We'll be a bit jealous.