Whenever I travel to,
study in, or expatriate to anywhere, I always bring along my keen curiosity
about the café culture to these new places. Something about the moods of the
architectural and interior designs of individual cafes coming together to fuse
motif and soul into unified, yet scattered, themes illustrates a story about
the residents of a place.
As a former student turned lifer in the Pioneer Valley of Western Massachusetts, I was always drawn to Amherst for its vibrant pedestrian traffic, New England quaintness, and plethora of cafés. In this town, coffee houses change owners frequently, with transients buying and selling as they come and (in the same breath) move on to other, greener pastures. Save for the ubiquitous Starbucks, the small owner is the stable force in this tiny economy. Coffee houses reinvigorate old buildings by reusing and transforming historical spaces into vibrant entrepôts of conversations and study groups. Organic and fair trade coffee are the mainstay here, ranging from the politically correct traders, who have a more regional distribution in the US, the hybrid USAID organic coffee with a national distribution, to the conventional Fair Trade with an international distribution.
When I arrived in
Palmerston North, I did the same. I stepped into different café nooks to sip
and sample and, over several months, discovered something truly unique. As with
any city, Palmerston North boasts a café culture with a distinct flavour, but I
also discovered that these cafes are in a class entirely of their own. However,
their individuality, as I decided, cannot be encapsulated in the way designs
rendezvous with the owner’s signature creativity, but in something else.
While living in California from 2006 to 2007, the city of Berkeley (a university city in the California North Bay) was a
favourite destination to which to abscond. The avid displays of locally-owned and
corporate cafés presented a bric-brac of refined, upscale demeanour,
exemplified by the Peet’s Coffee, alternating with the grungier, more
approachable venues of the Guerilla Café and Fertile Grounds Coffee. Nowhere is
this eclectic mix more represented than on Shattuck Avenue, the congested four-lane
street that runs east to west through downtown Berkeley. Over the years since
2006, the resurgence of independent, alternative coffee houses pulls this busy
street back to the period when Berkeley was swathed in beatniks and
hippies.
As a former student turned lifer in the Pioneer Valley of Western Massachusetts, I was always drawn to Amherst for its vibrant pedestrian traffic, New England quaintness, and plethora of cafés. In this town, coffee houses change owners frequently, with transients buying and selling as they come and (in the same breath) move on to other, greener pastures. Save for the ubiquitous Starbucks, the small owner is the stable force in this tiny economy. Coffee houses reinvigorate old buildings by reusing and transforming historical spaces into vibrant entrepôts of conversations and study groups. Organic and fair trade coffee are the mainstay here, ranging from the politically correct traders, who have a more regional distribution in the US, the hybrid USAID organic coffee with a national distribution, to the conventional Fair Trade with an international distribution.
The flavours emanating
from the physical attributes of coffee houses are sometimes as subtle as the
hint of the aromatic richness of pressed, grounded beans being poured into clean,
white coffee cups. What distinguishes the café culture in Palmerston North from
the others is not conveyed so much in the outward appearances of the café, but in
the subtle gestures accentuating the basic Americano and accompanying baked good that arrives at the table. The coffee houses in Berkeley and Amherst offer the usual
array of coffee styles - brewed, cappuccino, lattés - and baked goods sold à la
carte, which sit in metal baskets behind glass display cases from where
customers may eye and choose. While this set up may be present in Palmerston
North cafés, when orders arrive at your table, they come alive with an artistic
flair unrivalled by any in the US. The surface of steaming mugs of hot
chocolate come dusted with chocolate powder, laced with chocolate syrup, and
accompanied by two, nickel-sized pink and brown sweets. An Americano is served with
a tepid side of freshly whipped cream, and a raspberry crisp garnished with a
gentle ladle of smooth, plain yoghurt. These personal touches add fun and
festivity to the café experience in New Zealand, exposing me to something
distinctly Kiwi. Perhaps someone reading this blog in the US may feel inspired
to create a menu, which borrows from this unique Kiwi style, and introduce it
to American café aficionada/os?
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