chipped

Alright, let’s be blunt: I love coffeeshops.  Unless I am desperate, you will never catch me with a Starbucks cup in hand.  I have an unhealthy addiction to my morning latte, and it all started at one beautifully quaint coffeeshop on 149th and Broadway.

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If you know anything about me, you know that for the past three years I have lived in four different apartments, seven different theaters and one coffeeshop called The Chipped Cup.  I discovered my love for mom and pop coffeeshops about nine months after my move to Hamilton Heights when I met a friend there for breakfast.  Their coffee is incredible, that’s a given; but privately-owned coffeeshops are so much more than their coffee.  The serenity that comes from being in a cozy, unique environment is such a special find in this loud and vivacious city.  Very rarely can we revisit a space outside the confines of our own that fill the warmth and peace that a small coffeeshop provides.

Looking back, I have made more memories, conversation, and artistic endeavors sitting in that coffeeshop than most other places in Manhattan.  I collaborated on my first pilot there.  I played catch up with a friend for six hours at the wobbly table in front of their bar.  I spent the afternoon there before my one woman show talking out dialogue kinks with my director and compressing my nerves.  I fell apart about my frustration with my career to my best friend at a table surrounded by their packed rush one Saturday afternoon.  I have brought many a friend there to share the warmth and familiarity this place provides for me.

People are always asking me why I pour so much time and, subsequently, money into this place.  It’s not about the coffee (although they make a mean latte).  It’s about the space they’ve created amongst the strip of 149th and Broadway that keeps me coming back.

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