Located a hop, skip, and a jump away from my university in Lakewood, and the only non-corporate cafe for miles, I was anxious to try the place. How had it stood the test of time since 1979? I have no idea.
Full of high hopes and expectations I waltzed into the joint, I fell in love with the set up. It was all eye candy, picture the Central Perk from Friends ran into Luke's from Gilmore Girls. I spent a good ten minutes just looking at the funny mugs and the high tech coffee-ware they were selling. I then ordered my go-to, a vanilla latte, and proceeded to chat with the barista. He had all the right qualities: tattooed, kinda flirty, and steady on the drink-making front. I thanked him for my latte, sat down, and set up shop to work on some projects I had going on. After waiting a Lana Del Rey song later, I took a sip.
Milk. Foamy vanilla milk. You couldn't taste the espresso and there was an aftertaste that reminded you of the discomfort you feel when your grandma has had too many eggnogs and starts talking about sex and vodka at Christmastime. Not good.
Maybe I just needed to take another sip? And another? And another? No improvement. Maybe I should ask him to remake it? It's a latte, how do you mess up a latte? And then I had a horrible realization, this is the Village Roaster product. Take it or leave it.
I threw it away.
Will I come back? No. Am I sad that it was not on par? Yes. I feel my best comment on this establishment was on snapchat.
I'm sorry cute barista.
-CR
