In each community there is, or should be, a tiny place where people can congregate and share ideas. Europe abounds with small hidden away places, possibly where artists and writers have scribbled away in the dim romantic past. Ideally it should be old, and carry a history of questionable legality. The coffee should be hot and strong, and should be accompanied by something good to eat.
I don’t know who “Joe” was, but he probably laid claim to this corner in the early part of the 20th century of prohibition fame. Our friends own the property, and Joe may have been an early relative. The little shop remained vacant for 50 years or so of my memory, while people said that “someone” should put it back in business.
A charming lady named Melissa has now put it back in business, purveying soups, salads, and sandwiches, and coffee strong enough to keep you awake for half the night. We met friends there yesterday, and after imagining the days of Prohibition, when naughty people may have surreptitiously slipped into the back room to quickly wet their whistles, we added Joe’s Corner to our morning itinerary.
THOUGHT FOR THE DAY:
“If it is so that we live only a small part of our life–what happens to the rest of it?” Amadeo Prado