This morning, as most mornings, I stopped at my usual coffee shop on my way to work. While my favorite surly barista was not in attendance, I persevered. Coffee. Large. And went outside to enjoy a moment of sunshine before heading into the office.
Over the winter, a bakery had opened next store, staffed entirely by women ages 25-45 who all look like they belong in a really good movie about women who started a successful bakery. One of them, in a white apron and green bandanna covering her hair, was eating pancakes off a square red plate on the stoop.
“I’m jealous,” I said. “That looks delicious.”
“Want one?” she asked.
I refused, she insisted and a moment later, I too was enjoying these most amazing pancakes. The secret ingredient? Walnuts. To die for.
Thanks New York.