Coffee and Company
Mushroom sandwich encased in sesame seeds
Place: Café Emesh, at Studio of Her Own, Khaf-Tet B’November Street, Jerusalem
When: Monday, late morning
Environment: It was a beautiful sunny day; the seating was outdoors and in a white vinyl tent. The place was sparsely populated, but not empty, with a leisurely turnover. Music was playing, but the noise of construction from next door drowned it out. A nicely lined entry path, with bushes and gravel, led to the café (and shop) on the left and seating on the right. The rest of garden was growing in. Bare-bones garden furniture was available for seating: White slatted chairs in the tent, and worn wooden tables flanked by faux leather bar stools outside. The shop sold some pastries, salads, sandwiches and coffee, along with various ceramics and artists’ works.
My order: Mushroom sandwich (they had half-size only) (NIS 18), and small cappuccino (NIS 13). I tried to order a cold coffee, as the menu listed it as an option, but the woman shrugged and said there was none. I asked if it was an ice issue, and she shrugged.
The low-down: The (minimal) staff was friendly, but seemed a bit clueless about the menu when asked what the sandwiches on display contained. And the sandwich really wasn’t great. The bread was heavy on sesame seeds, and the only discernable flavors from inside the sandwich (discounting the seeds on the outside) were tehina and shallots. I ordered a small cappuccino but got a large – it was unclear whether they actually had different sizes (despite what was written on the menu). It came in a regular short drinking glass, so there was no good way to hold it without burning my hand. But it was a surprisingly decent cup of coffee. The coffee flavor was robust and present, and not watered down by the milk. The foam was light and fluffy. Ordering was done at the counter, and payment was made at the end. Café Emesh is probably a better place to go for a coffee and company than for food and ambience.
Who else was there: A middle aged man in a fitted chambray shirt and jeans, wearing flip flops and a small kippa, seated himself outdoors with a younger guy in his early 20s; the younger man had curly brown hair, a plaid flannel shirt and jeans. While in terms of age, they could have been father and son, they were not. They ordered a coffee each and a brownie to share.
The younger guy was smiley and laughed a lot, casually propping up his feet on a bench across from him. The older fellow was his former teacher and mentor. The two of them were catching up: The former teacher checking in on the younger guy, to see how he fared as a soldier now that he returned home from reserve duty (even if temporarily). The older guy stepped away to get something, and the younger guy pulled out a pack of cigarettes. It was a new habit he picked up in Gaza. He didn’t mean to start smoking, but it was something to do while waiting around in bombed out buildings. He never stopped smiling, as if he could convince himself that everything was ok if it looked ok. The former teacher returned with a wrapped gift – a book. Once the younger man opened the present, his former teacher took the book from him to write an inscription on the inside cover. It was a heartfelt gift. He hoped the young guy would find his way back to civilian life through ordinary actions, like reading.
