Stacy's Coffee Parlor

Finding a place to sit and read or write, where you can get a good tea or coffee and decent atmosphere, and that doesn't begin with an "St" and end with a "ks"is no easy task. I have nothing against those coffee shop chains, but I do think there's room for variety here.

In Japan, for instance, you can pop into any Doutor or Excelsior Caffe shop (or a slew of others, all owned by Doutor Coffee Co., Ltd.:  www.doutor.co.jp/en), and find many different offerings of food as well as beverages. Each shop has its own character, its own brand of refreshment, and they, like SB, are ubiquitous, so you can go wherever your palate takes you.

From what I hear, even the coffee shop launched by McDonald's (en.wikipedia.org/wiki/McCafé) does brisk business in other countries. Apparently, though, McD's only offered the drink, not the full coffee shop, here in the U.S. I personally think that is a mistake. When I want a coffee somewhere other than home, I do not think of the Golden Arches when flipping through my mental rolodex. Maybe I should, but I don't.

At any rate, today was a "find a quiet place to sit and sip day".

In Falls Church, VA, there is a stretch of Route 7 that is congested with store fronts, strip malls, hidden nooks and crannies, and, as in many cities and quaintified small towns (no, I know quaintified isn't a word, I just made it up) it is best to be in a passenger seat if you really want to see even half of what's there. Today, I was in the driver's seat. Don't worry, this isn't an accident report.

No, my car was mysteriously guided by unseen forces to a tiny, barely visible, if-you-blink-you'll-miss-it shop with a small parking lot, the only kind they make in small towns in NoVA. Lo and behold, the lot was half empty—a good thing when it comes to parking lots and in-boxes. I pulled into the open space with no difficulty whatsoever, and proceeded to walk toward the shop.

Now, the signage on the exterior of the building was promising. It is kitschy 1950's retro. Stacy's Coffee Parlor, it's called. I got a little nervous as I approached the entrance, thinking, "What if this is a real dud? What if I've misjudged this book by it's cover? Do I grab my coffee and go? Go where? The whole point of this exercise was to find a place to sit and stay a while. Oy."

My fears were allayed as soon as I entered, however, at least on the atmosphere part. Once inside, I could see that not only was the front door open, but the door way at the back of the long, narrow room was open as well, inviting a lovely spring cross breeze. In the front of the shop were two cozy seating areas, the one in the window was an airy pastel set of wicker and iron garden furniture with cushions, the other, just behind it, a soft, neutral sofa set with two small, leather arm chairs.

In the middle was an area with many small, round, two-seater tables just right for a coffee date, and in the back was another seating area with sofas and a shelf of books and magazines, just right for an intimate group to discuss politics, language, literature, film, whatever. It apparently serves as a good spot for moms and little people out for a sociable morning as well as a local live acoustic music spot some evenings.

What I forgot to mention in the muddle of all this description is that I also wanted something to eat that was neither sweet nor stupendously high in calories, and Stacy's specialty, aside from the coffees and teas, is advertised as ice cream and bakery items. Oops.

This turned out not to be a problem, either. Though there were not many savory items on the menu, there were enough to meet my requirements. Mission Accomplished.

The little coffee shop was quiet enough for reading and writing, and I found an alternative to the noisy big guys in this little corner of the big, big world. I would recommend giving it a try if you're passing through town. It's on my ever-evolving list of favorites.