Philz Coffee in the Castro: assorted observations
Mostly notes from a while ago, when I used to go to cafes.
They sell kouign-amann comparably delicious to the best I have had, and kouign-amann is among the best food I have had. The first time I had kouign-amann, my rapturous eating of it made for one of those situations where you and people in stopped traffic nearby mutually acknowledge the intense thing you are all observing.
They were playing Velvet Underground. Now they are playing Boys don’t cry, by the Cure. The woman at the table next to me exclaimed ‘I love this song’ when it came on. This is about the third time I have looked at my phone to see if its recognition software can help me name a song I had forgotten. (Four: Starman, David Bowie…five: For no-one, The Beatles.)
While I was considering whether to write this post, someone started improvising a song, ‘Welcome to Philz’. Not a casual coffee-grinding mumble, but a passionate song with a full-arm-extending dance. He explained to some customers that now that they were at Philz their lives would not be the same, because for instance if they bought coffee from other places now, they would be amazed by how much better Philz coffee was.
The same guy is later doing a kind of Macarena dance over the shoulders of another guy while they wait for a customer to use the card machine.
The coffee is very good.
All of my meetings with people behind the counter feel more than usual as if we are mutually aware of the significance and beauty of this meeting.
The unisex bathroom is decorated with a leaping pink and purple unicorn.
The wall shelves are a rainbow. Hanging from it is a rainbow flag. The ceiling is flying bisexual, transgender, bear, leather, and lipstick lesbian flags, if I identify them correctly. The fridge decorations include ‘everyone is gay’ and ‘Butts!’.
A customer brought his pet dog in, and another table of customers cheered it on as it lay down for a treat.