coffee coffee coffee

When I first moved into my old neighborhood in Philadelphia eight years ago, the storefronts were as quirky as the residents...art galleries, vintage clothes shops, the Korean grocery, an Italian trattoria, and a fabulous coffee shop called Quarry Street. There was nothing fancy or slick about Quarry Street, but for many people in Old City it was their extended living room. On rainy Sundays, one would find most of the overstuffed chairs, some of which were losing their stuffing and looked like they had been scavenged from a grandparent's estate sale, occupied. The hardwood floor was creaky, and there was always a bit of a musty smell to the place; we could never pinpoint its source....the old wooly chairs were a possibility, as were the stacks of used books lining the shelves at the rear of the shop. The damp-furred giant Schnauzer, a retired show dog, was a likely suspect. The steamy strong coffee was served up in mismatched oversized mugs, picked up at sidewalk sales and thrift stores. It was a perfect brew to kickstart the day or to nurse while reading the Sunday paper. The clientele was as eclectic as the mug collection, despite the overall slacker chic vibe and decor. It was a wonderful place. My former neighborhood has changed dramatically in the past eight years. When I moved into my apartment, half of the loft spaces were unoccupied. Many artists had made Old City their home because the abandoned warehouse lofts were large and cheap. Now there is a 3-month waiting list for apartments, and the prices have skyrocketed, forcing many of its former residents to find new housing. The new crowd is younger, more monied, and sleeker. Not surprisingly, Quarry Street closed its door years ago. There is a mug of coffee at my side now as I contemplate the future of my beloved morning beverage in my new adopted home. Starbucks have already begun to appear in Madrid and Barcelona. How long will it be before the franchise makes its way south? Will the locals, who last summer found my request for an iced coffee completely absurd (after much prodding I eventually received a regular espresso with a separate glass full of ice), embrace the decaf latte with nonfat soy? I'm told there now is a new Starbucks a block away from my old apartment. Let's hope the same future does not await my new home and that the traditional cafe/bars, with the bullfighting posters juxtaposed with the framed Madonnas, the shallow bowls of olives, "La Cucharacha" playing on the slot machine in the corner, and the group of retired farmers playing cards at the front table by the window, do not quickly fade into the past.