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Back before the day
of the coffee superchain, there were coffeehouses that catered to
the hip and Eurocentric. Francophiles and slacker college students
had places to go that had never heard of dataports, frappachinos or
self-promoting CD series (but the always-popular 650% mark-up still
applied.) Savvy high schoolers soon learned that these places were
a perfect alternative to bars and their damn restrictions, sending
adults scrambling and making legalized dope pushers out of the Starbucks
Corporation. The heyday of the coffeehouse may be behind us, but places
like Caffe dell'Artista exist to remind us of our recent past--our
brush with true snobbiness. One flight up on Greenwich Street, this
dessert and caffeine holdout is shrouded in old wood and the haze
of steamed milk. The menu is filled with delectable desserts from
carrot and cheesecake to gelato and sorbet. Sure the help isn't decked
out in green smocks and "Your Server: Chip" isn't quick with the espresso,
but you have to appreciate the lack of clacking laptop keys and the
Christian Bale look-alike ordering a double skim grande mochachino
in his loudest voice while talking to his broker on his mobile phone.
[MF]
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