Over the last couple of months, we've fallen into the habit of going out for coffee on Sunday afternoons. Each week is a mini-adventure of locating a new coffeehouse, driving there, and sampling their wares. Each of us brings our journal and an assortment of pens to use, and trade back and forth. It makes for a pleasant afternoon.
This being Seattle, one might think that there are any number of excellent coffee shops. Truth be told, we've yet to find one that meets requirements completely.
I have been surprised by just how many we've found that offer coffees made by automated machines (not great, but acceptable) and baked goods that look suspiciously like they were bought at Costco the week prior, wrapped in Saran, and stuck in a refrigerator to try to preserve some faint resemblance to freshness (NOT acceptable). One or two shops we tried are stuffed into spaces clearly meant for hobbits, not grown adults. Or they mean to turn the clientele quickly by making the seating area as unusable and cramped as can be.
In desperation, last week we even went to the world's most prevalent Seattle coffee shop. The Big S is not normally my husband's first choice; he believes they tend to over-roast the beans, but he went along. The coffee was fine. The pastries were good. And the shop was so crowded and freezing from the door's constant opening that it was a very uncomfortable experience.
So the quest for a Good Coffee Shop continues. Perhaps we'll meet with success this very afternoon.