Desperately Seeking Cafes

I have a confession, though perhaps not so much a confession as an admission of guilt: I have a terrible sweet tooth. This is why I seek out cafés wherever I travel. And, of course, because I love coffee.

In Boston, my ritual always begins the same way. After a red-eye flight and a 5 a.m. arrival, I check into the Sheraton on Dalton and head across the street to Flour Bakery + Café. A coffee and a pastry are my proof that I’ve arrived. Sometimes it’s breakfast, sometimes lunch, but always a pause in the rush of travel.

This trip, though, I wandered further. Just down the street from Berklee College of Music, I stumbled into Tatte Bakery & Café. Another counter stacked with pastries, another Americano — this time iced — and a brownie for good measure. Different light, different atmosphere, but the same comfort.

That’s the thing about cafés: they aren’t detours for me. They’re where I feel at home. With an Americano in hand, my AirPods in, and my laptop open, I find it easier to write than I do at my own desk. Something about the combination of caffeine, sugar, and the murmur of a room inspires me to put words down.

Maybe it’s my GenX side, but I’ll always be desperately seeking cafés. Not just for the coffee or the pastry, but for the pause they offer — the moment of belonging they create in a city that isn’t yet mine.