by Wilson F. Fang
For many, the presence of a chic little coffee house is one of those elements that define an appropriately urbanized environment. And San Francisco, having as wonderfully urban an environment as 'most any other city, is suitably awash in such establishments. Of course, the City By The Bay is not unique in that aspect--almost every major metropolis around the world has its own. Sydney has Spring's, in bustling Potts Point; Barcelona, Els Quatre Gats in the old Barri Gotic district; Rome, Sant'Eustachio near the Piazza Navona--to name just a few. In this country, there's the Big Cup in New York, Boston's Caffe Vittoria, and Miami's News Café, notorious as the last place late designer Gianni Versace stopped by before he was gunned down by Andrew Cunanan. As for San Francisco, well, the 49 square miles that make up our little corner of the world hide quite a few celebrated cafés amongst its variegated hills and 'hoods.
It's hard to define what transforms an otherwise prosaic caffeine-serving establishment into one of those near-proverbial "cafés." Location is almost certainly a key element. Such a place has to be situated near a busy thoroughfare, not just to draw in prospective customers but provide an ever-changing panorama of passers-by to entertain patrons. Large windows all around are another aspect - all the better to view the aforementioned pedestrian panorama. Interesting décor always helps, the kind that gives a certain unique ambiance, imparting the feel of actually being at a delightful destination instead of just being on a journey for java. Also, membership in any sort of chain almost automatically disqualifies a place from membership in this esteemed category. No matter how stylish the paint scheme or how cutting edge the ambient music is, having a Starbucks™ sign over the front door just doesn't cut it (Given immunity to this rule is the eminent Bewley's in Dublin, Ireland, the progenitor of a chain of similarly named coffeehouses--five minutes inside the original Grafton Street branch, which first opened its doors in 1840, and is resplendent with stained glass and antique fixtures, quickly ensures you that it is a exceptional exception to this "no chains" rule). Finally, the clientele of a café becomes a big part of the equation, as people-watching in these places seems to be as important as beverage imbibing.
So where does the urbane San Franciscan go to satisfy cravings for coffee, or at least their hankering for membership? In a locale where there seems to be as many cafés as there are anti-war protesters, a few stand out. On tony Fillmore Street in Pacific Heights is relative newcomer Grove. I walked in on a Monday night to meet a friend for, natch, coffee, and found it full of Beautiful People-types from the neighborhood, the ladies looking fresh from a trip to one of the expensive salons the dot the area, the guys looking like they just stepped out of a Ralph Lauren ad. If you can remove your gaze from the comely customers, you'll find that you've just stepped into what looks like an updated version of the den of an old English hunting lodge, replete with wrought-iron chandeliers, dark wood paneling, and the obligatory fire burning in one corner of the room. You're given an array of choices to situate yourself at, ranging from small tables to a large soft couch of the type that seems to become de rigeur at every hip-ish coffee house since Friends came on the air. For those who aren't stimulated enough by the caffeine or the company they're with, Grove also offers a selection of magazines and games you can borrow. The selection of beverages and comestibles is also quite good, if a little pricey. But hey, this is Pac Heights--if you can't afford to pay $10 for a latte and a slice of carrot cake then you should stay home and sip Sanka.
I overheard someone at Grove talk about their recent trip to Paris, and this had me fantasizing about hieing off to the City of Light for a vacation. A glance at my wheezing bank account quickly put the kibosh on that idea, though, so I settled for the next best thing, a jaunt to Union Square favorite Café de la Presse. In a town renowned for being the most Continental in the country, Café de la Presse is arguably as close to being in Europe as you can get without actually having to cross the pond. Here, the multicultural crowd drinks espressos, smokes Gauloises, and converses with their companions in a variety of mostly European languages, while perusing the extensive selection of foreign publications the café has for sale (which might help explain the "de la Presse" in its name). The prices are quite expensive, and the service spotty, but its location on the corner of Bush and Grant streets downtown, next to the famed Hotel Triton, means that there's always an interesting throng to feast your eyes on. And isn't that just as important for a café denizen as the quality of the cappuccino?
Not too far away, in the heart of North Beach, is the much-beloved Caffe Greco. Found on busy Columbus Avenue, Greco (despite the name) is often referred to as the most authentically Italian of the many like concerns here in San Francisco's Little Italy. I sat outside at one of the coveted sidewalk tables and had one of their signature drinks, the anise liqueur-flavored Caffe Fredo Sambuca, all the while listening to snippets of Italian arias wafting out from inside the café. With such stimuli it wasn't too hard to fantasize about being in a sidewalk café on the Via Veneto in Rome, waiting for Sophia Loren or Gina Lollobrigida to join me for an espresso….
After indulging in back-to-back yuppie havens, however, the proletariat in me was threatening a revolution. So I decided the best way to satisfy such urgings was to head for Café Macondo, in the Mission District. While Bill Clinton used to visit the old Slanted Door restaurant located a stone's throw from here, Fidel Castro is more the kind of visitor Macondo is likely to attract. The theme of the interior is best described as "Early American Thrift Store," with mismatched furnishings, a sundry collection of artwork, and a wild lilac and salmon color scheme on the walls. The left-leaning atmosphere is almost palpable here, reinforced by hints like the sign by the cash register warning against serving as a spy for the INS, and the dim lamps one finds at each table, just like the kind you'd expect to find in a Zapatista hideout. Macondo boasts of standard café fare, with a slight South of the Border twist--aside from the usual coffee and pastry choices, you can also get stuff like quesadillas and licuados (a Mexican fruit shake). All the better to fuel a debate with your cohorts (or those at neighboring tables) about the merits of subjects like immigration, free trade, and whether or not the coffee you're drinking really is organic (I drank tea, by the way…).
Since I won the previous night's debates at Macondo, I decided to continue the grassroots thrust of my café quest, and ended up at the People's Café, in the famed Haight-Ashbury district. The crowd at the People's Café is, as you'd expect it to be, refreshingly egalitarian, with giggling Japanese girls seated next to a guy who looked like he could have been a roadie for Jefferson Airplane back in the Sixties. The coffee and tea selections here are splendid, as is the wide variety of victuals they serve. Particularly noteworthy are the egg dishes, ranging from a simple scramble to a semi-exotic Huevos Rancheros. Get yourself a table next to the almost-floor-to-ceiling windows that look onto the sidewalk, and you can watch as hippies young and old walk by. If you need an antidote to boredom, do what I did and play the "guess the drug" game. This is where you try and figure out what narcotic of choice the disproportionately large "chemically enhanced" segment of the local population is on. This gets more fun after drinking a few cups of coffee.
After an hour or two at the People's Café, I started to feel a little "high" myself. Whether that was from the occasional wisps of marijuana smoke drifting in from the outside, or from all the caffeine I'd consumed, I wasn't sure. Nevertheless, it was time to chill out a bit. And I knew exactly the place to do it. Café Abir, smack dab in the mid-Divisadero strip. While the location isn't as storied as some of the other places on my list, Abir draws a loyal following that comes in to enjoy the comfy character, the ample assortment of food and drink (including some of the strongest coffee and among the best lasagna and hummus in the city), and the hokey-but-strangely-charming Baghdad-by-the-Bay interior. The only drawback to Abir is that parking in this neighborhood can be as difficult as finding a friend of Saddam Hussein in the Bush White House. The 24-Divisadero and the 5-Fulton buses both stop a stone's throw away from here, though, so leave the car at home and let Muni be your ride to this oasis.
No mention of San Francisco cafés would be complete without a mention of Castro-area institution Café Flore. Featured in publications as varied as Elle Décor and Wired Magazine, Flore is a de facto nexus of gay life in this town. Numerous relationships have started, blind dates met, and countless groups of friends sorted their drama out within the glass-and-wood confines of this storied establishment. There's an indoor and outdoor section to the café, and on warm sunny days a table outside can be more difficult to snag than an invite to dinner with Barbra Streisand. Speaking of dinner, there's a wide range of things to both tipple and nibble on here. You can choose from several reasonably-priced (by Castro standards) hot entrees, delicious pastries, and a long list of drinks, including wines and aperitifs like Cinzano and Dubonnet. The music they play is refreshingly eclectic (if sometimes a little loud), the service quick and friendly, and, as befitting a place patronized mainly by gay men (and the fag hags and stags that love them), the see-and-be-seen scene here is second to none.
After a week's worth of café-hopping, I was so caffeine-hypered that even a large dose of Valium would need to mount a pretty valiant effort to get me to calm down. But no matter. Having miles to go before I sleep is a small price to pay for the enjoyment of the diverse delights offered by this small sliver of San Francisco's esteemed café society.
The Grove Fillmore
2016 Fillmore Street
San Francisco, CA 94115
(415) 474-1419Café de la Presse
352 Grant Ave
San Francisco, CA 94108-3607 (415) 249-0900Caffe Greco
423 Columbus Avenue
San Francisco, CA 94133-3901 Phone: (415) 397-6261Café Macondo
3159 16th St
San Francisco, CA 94103-3334
(415) 863-6517People's Café
1419 Haight St
San Francisco, CA 94117-2910
(415) 553-8842Café Abir
1300 Fulton St
San Francisco, CA 94117-1416
(415) 567-7654Café Flore
2298 Market St
San Francisco, CA 94114-1506
(415) 621-8579
