Coffee Walking

Friday, B and I spent three hours walking around the fashion district so I could gather supplies for my foray into sewing for sales. AND he helped me find the right walking (even-feed) foot for my machine.

On Saturday, we went in search of coffee for brewing at home. B, ever the astute researcher, found Groundwork in the Arts District. On the way there we passed through the Little Tokyo Farmers Market. At a bit after 10 am the market was pretty deserted. They definitely did not have enough critical mass of either vendors or shoppers to sustain any kind of regular market. I felt a little sad for them. B said he’d overheard someone there saying “maybe we’ll just go dark.” If I were a less lazy blogger I’d find some link for you on this topic. Oh well, you know how to search as well as I do.

On our way to the Groundwork café we passed by a small restaurant offering Mexican fare. We ignored the obvious indicator (empty dining area) and decided to try it for brunch. Friday, B and I spent three hours walking around the fashion district so I could gather supplies for my foray into sewing for sales. AND he helped me find the right walking (even-feed) foot for my machine. On Saturday, we went in search of coffee for brewing at home. B, ever the astute researcher, found Groundwork in the Arts District. On the way there we passed through the Little Tokyo Farmers Market. At a bit after 10 am the market was pretty deserted. They definitely did not have enough critical mass of either vendors or shoppers to sustain any kind of regular market. I felt a little sad for them. B said he’d overheard someone there saying “maybe we’ll just go dark.” If I were a less lazy blogger I’d find some link for you on this topic. Oh well, you know how to search as well as I do.

On our way to the Groundwork café we passed by a small restaurant offering Mexican fare. We ignored the obvious indicator (empty dining area) and decided to try it for brunch. Ay!Carumba was one of the worst dining experiences I have had in recent memory. For starters, the waiter, a guy who could out-white Frasier Crane’s brother, didn’t know what a “café con leche” was. “What number on the menu is that?” he asked. I thought there might be hope since they serve the coffee in a French press. But alas! It was awful. The coffee made up in bitterness what their salsa lacked in flavor. Was it watered down V8? Finally, they mixed up our side of potatoes – B had ordered the standard – with chorizo – and I had ordered without chorizo. The waiter informed us of the mix up as he delivered the plates and chalked it up to a “language barrier” problem. As our friend K. pointed out later, “No chorizo” in Spanish is “No chorizo.” Next time we'll try eating at the coffee place instead. was one of the worst dining experiences I have had in recent memory. For starters, the waiter, a guy who could out-white Frasier Crane’s brother, didn’t know what a “café con leche” was. “What number on the menu is that?” he asked. I thought there might be hope since they serve the coffee in a French press. But alas! It was awful. The coffee made up in bitterness what their salsa lacked in flavor. Was it watered down V8? Finally, they mixed up our side of potatoes – B had ordered the standard – with chorizo – and I had ordered without chorizo. The waiter informed us of the mix up as he delivered the plates and chalked it up to a “language barrier” problem. As our friend K. pointed out later, “No chorizo” in Spanish is “No chorizo.”

Next time we'll try eating at the coffee place instead.