Editor’s note: From time to time this blog veers off the baby track to cover reviews of coffee bars. This is one of those times. If you’re not interested in coffee, wait. There will be another baby blog soon.
Let’s get this out of the way: suspenders have their place during enticingly cross-dressy stagings of Cabaret, but otherwise, when worn by anybody over the age of six, they are annoying. Suspenders, alas, are a central prop in the fussy hipster ethos of Intelligentsia Coffee and Tea.
One thing about Intelligentsia is that the coffee is good. The baristas can pull a shot as good as they come, with lots of nuances. But when the line is out the door and I inch forward waiting for caffeine, I realize they are selling attitude here as much as coffee. It hits me like a bag of over-roasted Sumatra – I am experiencing the scourge of coffee hipsterism.
I tend to like my caffeine delivery systems on the unpretentious side. There is an Italian restaurant nearby that pulls an old school espresso that’s like the kind you find in Rome. I will spend more time with my Hario hand grinder and Aeropress making a double espresso than it takes to drink one. I like the process and the ritual.
These days, just getting out of the house is an exact science governed by the needs and schedule of a small human, and whether or not anybody remembered to do laundry. I shouldn’t be railing against suspenders. I should be grateful to see suspenders, to stand in a line among hipsters. I should revel in hipsterism.
I do not. I just don’t have time.
I realize, at this third round of fatherhood, that it will be a while before I fully rejoin the world I once inhabited, of lively semi-intellectual chatter, of people reading books on iPads, of people having conversations that don’t involve what snacks to bring, and preschools that cost more than $10,000 a year, and sippy cups. It will change, I know. It all changes.
All I can do now is simmer about it silently, working under pressure like a well-pulled shot.