Coffee observations in Paradise
By Paul Mantee/Special to the Malibu Times
Editor’s note: Roger the Townie is a fictional character based upon several of writer Paul Mantee’s close friends. The comments by Roger are an amalgam of comments made by his real friends.
My friend Roger is a Townie. Let’s establish that fact right away. He hails from the outskirts of the inner city. So cut me some slack. These are merely his views on an aspect of my neighborhood. Mr. Know-It-All spent a weekend in Malibu recently and formed a few opinions.
We were saying a long goodbye.
“As far as I can determine,” Roger said, “there are three major indoor/outdoor coffee shops in central Malibu.”
I thought for a moment. “Coffee Bean, Dietrich’s and Starbucks?”
“Exactly.”
I’d been stuck for a piece to write, so I grabbed pen and paper.
Roger continued. “If you walk into Starbucks depressed, the patio is as good a place as any to contemplate suicide.”
“That’s a little harsh,” I suggested.
“Are you kidding? Black plastic chairs, dull black metal tables, traffic whizzing by … it looks like it belongs in a Greyhound bus depot.”
“Try the lemon cake.”
“And the inside is dark green on darker green. The place has no local flavor whatsoever. It could be in Downey.”
“It’s actually pound cake with a layer of lemon frosting. Very moist.”
“I’d say Starbucks is a safe place to take a break if you choose to remain socially unconnected.”
“A buck-sixty a slice,” I added weakly.
“On the other hand,” Roger said, “Dietrich’s seems to cater primarily to the producer/writer in search of an office, and the wealthy business take-out crowd.”
“I see.”
“Also the girl next door. Pepperdine tepid.”
“My newspaper will never print that.”
Nevertheless, Roger was on a roll: “Basically, it’s an introspective crowd. A mixture of fortunate and less fortunate. A considerable cell phone quotient prevails, yet a certain darkness of personality is tolerated as well. Interesting energy.”
“I recommend the cinnamon crumb cake.”
“It’s clear at a glance that even the smattering of homeless have a job to do.”
“Only a dollar ninety-five.”
“And having a unisex john on the premises is almost touching … beige tile, boldly bordered in blue, cranberry and aqua. Classical guitar throughout. In many ways, it’s like having coffee on the Mediterranean.”
I brightened. “Rebecca, Loren, and Sarah at your service.”
Roger reflected a moment. “And at the same time, they give you a receipt for a refill.” He giggled. “In case some Malibu resident has a tendency to bring an empty from home.”
My friend grew introspective. Eventually, he touched my arm and asked me, “Do you know what I’d give a week of my life in exchange for?”
“World peace?”
“An evening with any woman who has set foot on the premises of The Coffee Bean on a given day.” Roger is rapaciously available.
“Is that a fact?”
“Rain or shine.”
His eyes glazed over. “They all look like … like swans.”
“Pepperdine hot?” I suggested, attempting to even the score.
Roger was unstoppable. “And they all behave as if they have French accents.”
I nodded. “Some of them do.”
“This morning, I saw seven gorgeous women at separate tables, all with different, but simply spectacular hair.”
I tried to explain, “Bernie Safire’s salon is a comb’s throw away; please don’t expect schmutz hair at The Coffee Bean.”
Poor Roger had fallen generically in love. “And one of them actually stood up to order a latte or something and she had the word JUICY printed in big block letters across the perfect seat of her snug-fitting trousers!”
“Cotton jersey, probably. I’m familiar with the style.”
I attempted to quell his ardor, for he was doomed to life in greater Los Angeles. “It’s also a terrific venue for gift shopping for that special someone close to home. Malibu Lifestyle, Indiana Joan’s … failing that, you can always direct your focus across the parking lot and count Ferraris at the Malibu Car Wash.”
“You know what they remind me of?
“The Ferraris?’
“The patrons.”
“What?”
“European independent film people! The beautiful, the smart, the most conscious, yet the least self-conscious crowd.” Roger was a goner. “Even their dogs seem smarter, deeper, less transient in a way. The pigeons on the premises have an extraordinary sense of self, have you noticed?”
Indeed I had. “And the cocky little blackbirds as well.”
Roger fell silent and so did I. It was time for him to bid adieu to Paradise.
He pouted a little. “Aren’t you going to recommend a goody from the menu?”
I had to admit it. “I make it a point never to eat anything at The Coffee Bean for fear I’ll have a mouthful if a stranger says good morning.”