Microtouring with Mr. Huffy MacHuffy

There is just no pleasing people. Especially ones with too much time on hands in between gigs.

Had a meeting down in Soho, I was early. In order to kill time I decided to play tourist. Love to do that in an area that I rarely go. There is magic in local, same-city tourism. You are a local, but you are not that local.

Sort of like micro-climates which became all the rage in weather reporting (It is raining on my block, but sunny around the corner. )

I was micro-touring in Soho. Not even Soho proper, but Thompson Street ONLY. That's micro.

Microtouring.

The problem with me getting someplace early is I spend money. Not the $500 for a shirt kind of money, but the just shy of $20 kind of money on a sandwich, a coffee, okay... a cookie. That kind of money that adds up when nothing is coming in. The insidious spending I swear I will avoid.

I decided to have lunch at the cute and tucked-away Thompson Street Cafe. I had a salad and a smoothie ( I hate the word smoothie. It is as uncomfortable for me to say as panties. Dr. Freud?) The place as I said is adorable, but the service and quality were not. The tuna niçoise salad was something I could have slapped together at home with some salad greens and leftover tuna salad. The mango thing was fine. Not really any ginger flavor as advertised, but adequate.

I have to say I squabbled about a 50 cent overcharge on my drink concoction and they told me they were just using up those menus where the lower price was printed, but the correct price was on the chalk board on the wall.

I don't care how much, that is unacceptable. Lose the menus or red line the changes.

To redeem my Thompson St. experience, I walked across the street to City Girl Cafe. This is home of the (in)famous Stumptown Coffee from Portland, Oregon. There was a whole write up about it in New York Magazine (read it by clicking on this link.) City Girl is one of the places that serves this exotic coffee from the mysterious Pacific Northwest. Apparently all servers are trained by the master on how to make and serve this brown elixir. The guy I had gave me the dregs from the urn (even after I let him know I knew all about this coffee and this was going to be my first time.) Issues with not feeling respected? Dr. Freud come back in here.

I decided to also treat myself to a chocolate chip cookie. The cookie was amazing. Amazing. Get the cookie.

The coffee? The temperature was not that hot and neither was the coffee. It was purely forgettable which was such a disappointment. I only hope I had a shitty experience and it really is a Berkeley co-ed's orgasm. I really like the City Girl space, but the coffee was a sigh.

Thompson Street, I will be back. You and I will both see better days.