The Cow's End Cafe is a bit of a mystery at first. The coffee is just okay. It's not the sort of place that will deliver an aesthetically pleasing food experience. You have to buy something in order to use Wi-Fi. And yet there is something about the Cow's End that's kind of appealing. I visited once in the morning and another time in the afternoon. I had a different experience each time.
The first time, I sat downstairs on a bar stool right in front of a large window next to the door. The corner that I sat in smelled like other people had been there before. Not exactly like a gym, but the air was a little stale. Note to self: sitting near a doorway does not guarantee breezes nor fresh air. For some reason, I'm reminded of a college pizza place.
But the positive point was that I was in the perfect spot to watch the world go by. It was one of those afternoons when the sun is really strong and the sky is very blue and you're excited about living in Southern California. The Cow's End is less than a block from Venice Beach.
Deeply tanned French people sat at a sidewalk table. One of them was barefoot, which gave a holiday air to the scene.Three young women parked and headed to the beach. One wore a zebra print flashdance-esque shirt and unbelievably high sandals that made you think S & M. Her toes stuck out and she had on a lot of makeup. You know, beach attire. Fashion is apparently king: another woman wore a hooded faux-fur- lined long sweater, which must have been uncomfortably warm in the sun.
Random thoughts, such as 'When did the terrycloth headband come back? And why?' meandered through my mind.
Muscle guys passed by. Jazz, including that old favorite "I Love Paris in the Springtime" played softly on the sound system.
I felt as though I were sitting in the doorway of a general store in small town America, circa 1952. Townspeople come through with the gossip and happenings of the day. Many people seemed to know the name of the guy behind the counter. And he knows them. They chat and he listens. He's a man for all seasons. There was a report about a car accident. Someone else said that he'd found money with someone's name on it. A woman came by who wanted to talk about her greeting card business.
But before I was completely lulled by the rhythm of The Cafe that Time Forgot, I checked the time. The parking police are very detail-oriented and quick to give tickets (more on that below). It was time to go.
My second visit was in the morning. I sat upstairs, which is where I'd recommend that you sit, too. Upstairs was surprisingly light and air-filled. I liked it. Couches and comfy chairs are lipstick red pleather. Rattan chairs have grayish backs. Gray plastic tables are scattered throughout. One wall is red and others are a shiny silver. It's painterly, so you can see the brush strokes. Black and white photos from the '30s and '40s are framed in red and silver. Mirrors with gold frames are mounted on a corrugated metal wall. The brown industrial carpet is the only sober element.
There was no music. I could only hear the churning sound of a truck making a delivery in the alley. For reasons best known to himself, the driver chose to keep his motor running.
People at a nearby table were having a meeting. They used a lot of web lingo. "I'm just here for share," the woman said. It's funny to overhear a business meeting because it's a little like watching a play. When her colleague said "I'm just looking out for you," I thought 'Dear God, what's that really about? Watch your back, sister!' I wish they hadn't wrapped up the meeting by talking about sports injuries. I've been out of the swing of doing these visits, so I had forgotten to bring my iPod. This is an essential piece of equipment for the Mobile Knowledge Worker, so that you can always control your environment.
I had ordered a double espresso and chocolate crisp cookie -- even though it was before noon. Although I've thrown some of my parents' rules out of the window, the No Cookies, Cakes or Candies Before Noon Rule has stood the test of time. I have only made two exceptions previously: a leftover La Brea Bakery Italian nut cookie on a grim morning when I needed a pep-up and scrumptious wedding cake for breakfast the day after getting married.
But I digress.This cookie was a little too sweet for the time of day, but what can you do? The croissants all looked like they've come from that bakery that I've referenced in other posts -- the one that makes cheap stuff and distributes it around town. The chocolate croissant had a chocolate squiggle on it, which didn't make me feel confident about its authenticity. If you're really good, would you need to have a chocolate zigzag to catch my eye? The espresso was fine.
The guy next to me took a call and walked out. Great. I like it. Courteous, the guy knows the rules of sharing space with others.
The place was filled with Mobile Knowledge Workers beavering away. It was a mix of old and young, but everybody looked creative. So now we get to what the appeal is: it's a comfortable place to work and to have meetings.
Dog owners please note: I've heard that lots of dogs and their owners come to hang out at the cafe on Saturday morning. So dogs get their own special cafe time, too. Dog treats are available. Dog rules are posted at the counter, so it's not a free-for-all.
Last bit of advice: bite the bullet and park at the $4 flat rate beach parking which is about 1/4 of a block away. I parked at a meter because $4 seemed expensive to me. It began to seem like a great value when I got into conversation with the parking police (okay, the parking enforcement agent). I had to explain that yes, this was my car, but that I had just pulled up moments ago and was in the midst of paying. He was as relentless as the Grim Reaper, and certainly was as thorough in making his rounds.
I would come here again, especially if I were on the Westside and needed a place where I could put my head down and work for a few hours. But I would eat beforehand.
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