Indian Coffee House

On Holi, after our first round of festivities, our first nap, and our first of many showers, Anika and I decided to go on a walk in search of some tea and snacks. We took a right out of the hostel and I immediately saw a sign for the Indian Coffee house. I was intrigued for many reasons, the most immediate was that Indian coffee in the north means one part nescafe instant coffee mixed with two parts hot milk and two parts sugar, served in a shot glass. So to see a whole place devoted to coffee, and one that seemed to be around before freeze drying technology certainly intrigued me. It intrigued Anika too, and stoked the flames of our appetites because where there is good coffee, there is almost definitely good South Indian food. We had banked on a little more exercise than crossing the street (although to be honest, that's more labor intensive and much more distance than one would imagine, think frogger, but maybe with a cow), so we forced ourselves to walk to the next intersection and loop around.

We emerged from the archway into a little courtyard (photo 2). Walking in the walls were green, and the waiters all wore white jackets and hats that were half neru and half soda fountain attendant. I was smitten. We had ice coffee (delicious and entirely unmilkshake-like), and were revived.

The next day, we made a half-hearted attempt to eat somewhere else before just deciding to go back. We had coffee (great) and an egg uttapam (usually a rice flour based thick bread thing, this one was made into a sort of bread omelette thing, also delicious). When I told my friend from Jaipur that we had been to this place, he said it was like the Cafe Kooba (our hang out spot for soda, beer, and hookah, back when I lived there), for his parents and his grandparents. He said that his father had probably taken his mother out on a date here. Anika and I weren't surprised because our second visit we ended up making friends with a whole bunch of older gentlemen, who got together there as their post retirement hang out spot. One of them was very excited to learn we were American. Pulling a list out of his pocket, he told us about the presidential coins he needed (we had never heard of them). He gave us his card, said we could stay with him anytime but reminded us to keep a look out for the 11th, and 13th presidents (the ones he was missing), and to kindly post them to him at the address written. Now I have officially broadcasted the hunt.

Love,
Violet