Saturday, 1240pm. The phone buzzed my leg. The txtmsg read ’tyme 4 koffea’ and I readily agreed. I walked straight out of the room, pausing to grab a volume of Jung’s greatest hits.
I’m going to go against losanjealous company policy here and recommend a coffee shop that is not one of the top 50 Starbucks. Sure sure, it may cost me my job. We’ve been trying to win that account for half a year now. The siren of the sea awards its lucrative online banner business to only a handful of smart-assed blogs per year, a scant few and why not this one… hell, why not, that’s what we said. We went so far as to bring in some new writers speficially tailored to the task. Pros. Ringers. Damn fine writers if I do say so and yet that siren continues to play coy. Toys with us. Makes us guess.
Forget all that. When I really want to unwind with a coffee, I make straight for the motherland… Koreatown. Berendo. I speak English here. Sometimes they do too. Koffea it is. I find a meter. Park. Walk through the maze of couches, ramps, cubbyholes and whatnot and set up shop on the patio. Nothing can top sitting there ordering up cheesecake after cheesecake, koffea after koffea, summoning the waitron at my every whim and fancy with the magic doorbell taped to my table.
610 S Berendo St