The Market
Apr. 4th, 2022 02:35 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
favoritebean_writesThe pandemic claimed my hometown favorite coffee shop in 2020, The Market. The Market was a place of kosher delights, savory and sweet. Classical music from the local NPR station greeted fellow travelers upon entry. At the main entrance, violins swirled with the warming aroma of espresso, and cinnamon from various pastries, wrapped and ready for purchase.
If you entered from the north, you were subjected to the smells of seafood from the restaurant below before the dulcet tones greeted your ears. Up the stairs, you opened a door, and the black and white chessboard floor tile of the café below gives way to well-worn oak floors. The wood creaked, and welcomed your weary feet, the door swooshed shut behind you, leaving the smell of clams and crab behind. It was replaced at first by chocolate, an artisan chocolate counter was to your left, but as you ventured further, warm savory dishes with a unique Colorado flare tantalized your nostrils at the deli counter.
Did you want that freshly baked noodle casserole with cheese, or a piping hot relleno? No matter the choice, the serving is enough for two. I hope you brought a friend with you.
The back entrance is through a battered alleyway just off 14th Avenue. No one notices as you slip up the metal stairs out back, the prongs sharp enough to get the last of the ice and snow off your shoes before you gingerly sneak in out of the cold. A simple wooden French door sits slightly ajar, as this is the delivery entrance.
Ten-foot-tall shelves line the way filled with goodies from across the globe. I discovered Nutella when a friend pointed out jars of the spread on these shelves way back in 1993. Later, rather eager to impress the person I eventually married, I found and purchased Monin syrups which were for sale in 2001.
When headed to the other side to find a seat at a vacant oaken bistro table, a long deli display and ice cream freezer may have beckoned you to grab a sandwich with freshly sliced cold cuts and cheese, or an ice cream cone to cool down on a hot summer’s day. Yet always in the mood for chai, I would venture toward the front instead, as symphonic music swelled louder.
The Market made their chai from scratch, and it tasted authentic. Or- if you needed something sweeter and less spicy, nothing could beat their Black Forest Latte. The baristas were all very outspoken and somehow knew just how to make your drink without you even needing to be specific. One barista would swear at the surlier customers in Gaelic, which always piqued the interest of at least a couple of people behind you in line.
My very first love introduced me to The Market, and while we were never more than platonic, my romance with this particular café lasted for decades. As I head to Denver later this year, my heart laments that loss of flavor. There will be no Market chai or Black Forest lattes, no zucchini bread (theirs was hands down THE BEST), or hot rellenos. Most travelers mourn the loss of the Market Spring Fling cake, which was always available at the dessert counter up the stairs. Three bakers have since opened a cottage bakery called, “Lala’s Bakery,” and the thought of something from that part of the past tempts me.
I hesitate to order though, because it wasn’t just my mouth that sought comfort in The Market for many years and trips to my hometown. It was the ambiance, the feel of those oak floors, the smells of the many parts of the café, the sounds of the music and scooting chairs and espresso machines whirring around. I miss the feel of the large cups, always filled to the top, or the music making of the shakers filled with cocoa, cinnamon, or nutmeg. I miss the feelings of heartache or happiness that accompanied me when I stepped through those doors, day after day.
Sometimes one needs more than a taste to remember what the heart feels.
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Date: 2022-04-05 05:41 am (UTC)