A cafe day

“I drew you a heart,” she said showing me the milk frothed in my coffee as she delicately placed one at a time the items from her tray onto the table where I was sitting. The collection was perfect: a green glass carafe of water, a short glass, my coffee, a sugar jar, and a basket holding a ma’amoul.

For months I have been meaning to stop at Le Zigoto – ever since a friend told me that the cafe customizes each cup of hot chocolate to suite the customer’s desired richness – and now that I’ve been I want to go back every day. It sounds so trite to say that everything was just lovely and beautiful, but I truly felt that about aspect of the cafe – the arrangement on the table, the late-day autumn sun, inside: the music, the colors. Such a small space can be intimidating, but Le Zigoto was homey.

The cafe is beautiful – a long space, furnished with mostly second-hand items. Everything appears meaningful and deliberate, from the floor, made from reclaimed wood, to the attention given to the blackboard menus.

I’m going back for the brownies. There’s a different every day, save for a single secret ingredient. Le Zigoto also serves breakfast, sandwiches, and a daily soup. Although the cafe has a Lebanese flair, I saw that almost only in the ma’amoul, traditional nut-filled Lebanese pastries. The one I tasted was pistachio, and bright green. I saved a bite for Joe. He said it tasted like pistachio shortbread.

I’ll try out a recipe soon, but for now, I have only this.