It has been a year since Seattlest finished The Thesis. We're pretty proud of it. It gave us a chance to get out into the community, meet intriguing people, and listen to their stories. Aside from meeting our greasy research objectives, we learned about some great initiatives, saw great films, and sampled fine community places. We've gotten a lot of good mileage out of the work: conferences, projects, and relationships with many good people.
But enough about us. We realized the upcoming anniversary as we were hanging out in one of the Ave's finest cafes, Cafe Solstice. We loved this place when we were grizzled grad students and we still love it now that we want to be grizzled grad students again.
Needless to say, as we wrote our little paper, we drank amounts of coffee that could drown Juan Valdez's entire stable of donkeys. What's more, since we were never productive on the grounds of campus, we preferred loud cafes full of diversions. Oddly, such places made us incredibly productive, and it was not only us. As such, Cafe Solstice on the lower Ave became our de-facto office. It was, and still is, the combination of the physical space with the social atmosphere and meanings --what geographers and sociologists call place-- that gives us our undying love of Solstice.
Solstice is a great, bustling place, what sociologist Ray Oldenburg would call a "great good place": an informal, public, gathering place that is the heart of community. Its richly colored walls feel comfy and warm, especially as one looks out onto the rainy, winter street through the cafe's wall of glazed doors that stretch the entire facade. The artwork on these walls is in quick rotation and spans all sorts of hanging media and materials, so there is always something fabulous to see. The floor-space is somewhat densely packed with dark, wooden tables and chairs of disparate shapes and sizes. Yet, its tall and gently vaulted ceiling with exposed rafters gives it an airy feeling as open as any breezy Mediterranean cafe.
On any given weekday, Solstice is filled with the spirited chatter of students and faculty breaking away from the institutional grey and beige of campus to get some work done on group projects or to discuss future endeavors. This conversational noise blends with the appropriately loud and well tuned sound system. Add to that the background noises of clinking glassware, grinders, steam foaming, and the tapping out of spent grounds and the cafe becomes filled with a beautiful cacophony indicative of life and activity.
There are also individuals typing furiously . Wi-fi coverage is thankfully spotty here, so it is more conducive to actually getting some original writing done. Saucy undergrad tarts highlight their latest reading from a course-pack, disheveled yet stylish grad students sift through mountains of papers they must grade before yesterday, and professors in decidedly non-business-world suit-coats stare into space before collecting a thought and hammering it into their latest article. Finally, solitary regulars read a copy from the ample stack of Strangers or from the multiple copies of the dailies that always seem to be floating around. Some days there is even a New York Times.
Last but certainly most important, Solstice holds the distinction for having the highest concentration of hotties on the Ave. From the clientele to the baristas, there is nary a frumpy person to be found. Gods bless you if you're into both sexes and many genders; the air can get pretty thick and charged at times. And most people are fairly stylish, too (the Ugg(h)s are kept to an absolute minimum... and those are usually people who get things to go anyway). We've always maintained that intellectual pursuit is hot hot hot; Solstice proves that assumption.
At the time of the great writing of the thesis, we spent many hours of many days here. Naturally, we drank drip out of economic necessity. These days, we drink it out of choice. When we feel like having liquid dessert --or when we rack up a free drink somewhere-- we get a mocha. Usually, though, if we want something espresso-based, we get a latte of some sort. We can't bear the thought of an Americano anymore and we smirk at the realization that a watered-down espresso is so aptly named. Lately, though, we've been developing a taste for straight-up espresso. This is how we have tracked our uppity coffee addiction since we moved here back in the autumn of aught-two.
We like Solstice coffee because it is thick and has sediment. It is the porter of coffee. Some days you can even see some of the oils floating on top. It is coffee that reminds you of where coffee comes from; it connects you with the fertile earth and far-off coffee farmers. It's not coffee for the weak... or the meek. It is unapologetically strong and relatively acidic most of the time; this necessitates cutting it down with cream. Until we came to Seattle, we drank coffee black all of the time. Now we are more flexible and a nice side-effect is that we (delude ourselves into believing that we) get our calcium and all that good junk that allegedly comes from milk.
Since turning in our thesis last year, however, we have spent less time at Solstice. At first, we didn't need to be up around the crack of 10-ish and, so, slept in until 2. And while Solstice is charming and comfy in the evening, it really is more of a daytime/afternoon place, at least as far as hanging out for long periods of time goes.. When spring comes around, go to Solstice some afternoon and, if your tastes are more spiritual, get some wine or a beer and relax on their front veranda as you watch people wind down for the day. There is no more refreshing experience on the Ave. Alternatively, for an evening dessert to cap off a nice date, Solstice is fantastic. But for hours-long geeking out, other cafes up the Ave serve the purpose better and have better wireless fidelity. Sadly, since we are no longer living the leisurely life of voluminous writing, we don't frequent the Solstice enough anymore.
However, we need to review our habits. Seattlest Clint's latest five-part series made us reflect upon our personal state of arabica. It was exacerbated by an unfortunate situation at work which came to a head the other day. Although attractively priced, the stock, company coffee has inexplicably slid downhill in recent weeks. The situation has gotten so dire that we are contemplating dispelling our misguided sense of entitlement to free coffee and actually paying for the good stuff from the Peet's down the street.
Perhaps, though, we should think about heading over to Solstice for a morning cup before bussing over to Fremont. We say this because we found ourselves there the other day. After nearly a year's absence, the barista looks at us from a distance, grabs a mug, points to it, ponders for a second, and asks "coffee?" even before the people ahead of us get out of line. Friends, our meager review above may not convince you that Solstice is such a great social asset (though you'd be fools not to believe us); however, it is undeniable that great baristas like this are more precious than a mountain of golden beans.
Confidential to barista: If you forgive us our terrible oversight and neglect, we'd love you to have us once again. And now that we earn real money, we can even tip better and real tips.
