Disappointment: Kava Cafe

I first got “into” coffee with Starbucks.

Please wait a moment before you minimize this window or click the back button on your browser.  There’s a reason; it wasn’t the coffee that drove me to Starbucks.

The first semester of my senior year of high school I had two full hours on Friday morning.  That was it.  That was my day.  Except, I had a fourty-five minute compulsory “advisory” period an hour after my last class.  Thus, I was compelled to stay at school until the shocking hour of one pm.

It was a pretty sweet deal.

Did I use that time to study calculus?  Nope.  Did I use it to work on college applications?  Um, I only applied to three colleges in America.  Five universities in England.

Instead, I used the hour to catch up with one of my friends who had the same barely-there Friday class schedule as me.  She was obsessed with Starbucks and consistently pulled all-nighters as she studied for Calculus, Biology and wrote college applications.  Thus, come Friday morning, she was more than in a little need of a cup of over-roasted coffee.

We would go to the Starbucks in Columbus Circle; the world’s most efficient Starbucks.  She would get either a vanilla latte or a pumpkin spice latte and I went from ordering hot chocolate to ordering a cappuccino.

And then I fell in love.

That cappuccino transformed from being bitter-tasting coffee to being a break from my hectic schedule.  Cappuccino time was a time to connect with a dear-friend and forget about all the stress swirling around in my life.

Around this time, my mother cut an article out of the New York Times for me about Kava Cafe in the west village.  The main draw of the cafe then was their fancy La Marzocco Strada machine.  Somehow, standing there on an exceedingly sunny day in early April, I knew that this was the reason I came.

Ever since I stumbled upon the cafe after drinking a milky latte at Ninth Street Espresso in Chelsea Market in January, I’ve been dying to get over there.  Unfortunately, it’s not exactly on my way anywhere.   It’s a destination.

Well, I’ve finally been.

I wish I could say it met all my dream about what a cool, slightly retro, cafe would be like; however, I’m disappointed to say that this was another case of my exaggerated imagination.  I imagined glamorous women and men, plucked straight from Milan in the ’70′s, swathed in dramatic jewelery and flashy suits, throwing back an espresso on their way to work.

While the people who worked their were nice, and dressed in that particular retro-look like they do at Stumptown, there was nothing exemplary about the cafe.

Wait, I sort of lied, the prices stood out for sure.  Unfortunately, not for the right reasons.  I paid $4 for a cappuccino.  I read somewhere that the location seemed primed for catching unassuming tourists as they stumbled off the high line in fits of hunger and thirst.  That’s certainly the impression I got when I went there.

At least, if the backpacked and fanny packed (I mean bum-bagged) tourists who dazily walked in as I was drinking my cappuccino were any sign.  That’s not exactly a bad thing (or maybe it is…) just I don’t want to go somewhere that prices their drinks to gouge tourists.  Or me.

Ultimately, I enjoyed Kava Cafe just fine, but didn’t love it.  I wouldn’t go back, but am glad I finally experienced the cafe.

What first got you into coffee?  Or do you not like coffee?