Where to Work | Maman, Greenpoint

a new series on the cafe’s i inhabit and what makes them work for you. littered, of course, with the inevitable thoughts that accompany coffee drinking in late afternoon in a new environment and among strangers.

to sum up, maman in greenpoint made my hangover seem ok. let me tell you how.

I entered Maman, the bright new cafe on Kent with a mere 40 minutes of freedom standing between me and what would be a very long shift. this brevity weighed on me heavier than the hangover i woke up with as i once again reprimanded myself for not being able to simply call it a  night and put myself to bed and thus, my ambitious to-do list was rendered into what must be a joke. it was a joke.

I needed help and oxygen and iced coffee despite the temperature and some sort of egg dish. maman was bright and cheerful but not aggressively so. the mood calmed me and the quiche selection promised to fulfill my requisite need. The barista had a gentle spirit, so much so that I almost punched myself to make sure I wasn’t standing mid-sun salutation, waiting for him to tell me to breathe and go through my flow. “go ahead and order a red eye, if that is in your practice,” i imagined him saying. instead I heard myself ask him for “the quiche Agathe, and an iced coffee.” i heard my voice calm, steady, and pleasant; far from the frustrated rage I left the house in, and then the nearly tear-soaked and shameful apology I sputtered to my lover as I reluctantly realized none of this was his fault. i couldn’t get a grip or release myself from my own self-loathing, which was deeper and heavier than my looming hangover.

“what do you want to eat,” said lover had asked me earlier, in an effort to bring me back from the edge. “I guess just a croissant at this point,” I heaved back with all the frustration of the world.

and even as i’d said it, i realized how ridiculous that sounded. just a croissant. as if this was the biggest problem in the world. jesus christ, why is life like this sometimes?

I refocused my attention on the shaman behind the counter, who was smiling calmly back, as if to understand everything that was falling apart inside me. “sorry, can I have a cup of water too?” i heard the pleasant, spiritually-centered me said. “of course,” he said. “it’s part of the request, and i will do it.”

every word he spoke and move he made calmed me. it didn’t even matter that there was a British woman who was deliberately deflecting all of the social cues of the world, and especially those of Brooklyn bakeries. she was poking about way too close to me, saying loudly to no one and everyone that she was “ready to order!” this normally would have likely forced me to bike 2 blocks to nearly 5 other options of coffee shops in the area, but at the moment, it didn’t phase me somehow. I knew that everything was going to be ok for the first time that day.

“one more thing,” i said. “what’s the wifi password?” I asked the shaman patiently, somehow. I was determined to open my iPad and write some words to save my day. somehow.

when he spoke he said, “the wifi? It’s I love maman.”

I love you, I whispered.

…………….………………

maman in greenpoint made my hangover better. the calming atmosphere and other-worldly barista helped me leave behind the impenetrable frustration that i thought would never leave me. the coffee and quiche were all i needed to get through a 10-hour shift, and the outdoor seating, vaguely parisien aesthetic, and absurdly sunny interior helped me center my energy and funnel my inspiration into a surprisingly satisfying and productive 40 minutes.

what you simply want from a cafe they simply do very very well. cappuccino. croissant. and if you’re looking for something more, get the agathe quiche and one of 6 different salads that all look fantastic.