The sad thing about Joe Coffee, is that it has so much lost potential. It has all the right elements to knock it out of the park: a quaint, well-decorated setting. Festive Spanish music. Coffee bean-shaped designs on the tiles, funky mirrors... the set-up is classy, and the location is nice (I went to the Upper West Side stop). But there's really nothing notable about the coffee. It tastes like office brew, blegh! My decaf blend was stale, boring and dull. The best part of Joe's is the adorable designs on the to-go cups. You know the coffee is bad when cardboard art is the most stand-out quality.
Joe came to me with the highest of recommendations from friends and even, The New York Times. But they are all liars! LIARS I SAY. My experience at Joe's was so negative. I originally came not only because of those high remarks, but also because they offer coffee courses. For $120, you can attain the basic know-how of a barista. Additionally, you can take mini courses in specialty skills for $30. I asked the grumpy barista about these courses and he told me not to bother, that it was just better to work there. I told him he sounded jaded, and he asked me what that meant. Was I accusing him of being privileged? "No," I stammered, "Jaded means you're not... super encouraging." This was the nicest way of telling him he sounded burnt out. "Oh," he said, "I'm just giving you my opinion. That's just my experience." Okaaaay...Well, that was uncomfortable.
And speaking of uncomfortable, in New York, I've come to accept that coffee shops are generally pretty small. But this place has way too many tables for such a condensed space. I felt like I was standing on top of the other customers. I had to use my vulture techniques to snag a table. And when I did, an elderly couple gave me crusty looks. The woman whined, "Well, I guess there's just never any available tables!" Then looked straight at me. I know she thought she had this table first, but I had dibs on it. Dibs! I had patiently waited for two middle-aged friends to finish up their conversation. No sir, I had the table first. It's my table. Remember the principle of dibs!
Not that dibs compensate for the fact that I probably should have let them have the table... because the man was using a cane. A nicer, more altruistic person would stand up and say, "Go ahead, I can wait." But I suppose I'm a bit of a wild rebel. The kind that wears a leather jacket and drinks her coffee with no remorse. Yeah, I like that.
Coffee: 2/10 Not memorable
Location: Upper West Side (85th and Colombus)
Atmosphere: Well-decorated, but good luck finding a table
Cost: $2.50
Recommend: No, sir!
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