Hipster Life updates for your contemplation:
Today's Episode: Boobie Burgers and The Androgynous Tea Servant
I went two places today that I had never checked out before, a brand new burger joint simply named "burger.", and a tea room thats located down the alley from a Goodwill store.
There is a lack of good burgers to be had here, and the locals ran out In-N-Out (why? anti-religious sentiment amongst the liberals, too much a chain establishment? Answer unknown.). So, I was glad to see a new burger joint. I was glad to see it was pretty busy since it might mean it was a good burger joint. And? Yup! But this isn't a food review, its a hipster experience.
Some choice bits about the place:
-My burger was named 'The Dude', and other burgers had similiar movie/music reference names.
-My order number was Jack White. Honest. They took my order and handed me one of those table number cards, except instead of a number there was a picture of Jack White. This was how they were supposed to find me and deliver my burger.
-THEY WERE OUT OF MILKSHAKES AND MOST SODA! wtf. The place was so new that they really didn't have the supplies. They were handing out can soda because the soda fountain machine wasn't set up yet. They ran out of milkshake ingredients and the judging of milkshake, fries and burger is the basis for evaluating a decent burger joint.
-The place use to be a sushi bar and they retained some of the low bench seating in one of the rooms. I sat in this room on a used victorian style couch, with my food on a coffee table in front of me. Surrounding me was a bookshelf with worn, old books, and to the other side of me were two old luggage cases. All across the wall opposite me hung various mirrors. Vintage Life magazines occupied the empty coffee table tops.
-The waitresses dressed like Hooters girls. Big boobs, tight white shirts and short shorts. Add in some tennis shoes and socks, and voila your wait staff.
-The beef was "grass fed and local" a Hipster mandate
-Near every element was organic or 'somewhat' natural. Luckily, the sweet potato fries were nice and crispy.
Anyways the burger was good and I hope they have their place setup fully the next time I go. It looks like they are going to have a large selection of draft beers on tap eventually. The beer menu was as big as the food menu.
Now the tea place with the afghan music. It's hard to list up the qualities of this place, and it borders the deep end of local subculture. Walking up to the place, I got complimented on my Muse shirt and the people behind the counter automatically offered me chai tea. I had to go to an ATM and get cash, because the place was cash only or, as one of the dudes there said, "or trade". Not sure what that meant, but I doubt I had anything to offer that they would want. Besides my t-shirt, and I currently needed that.
The place had no register, just a jewelry box where they stuffed the cash. My tea pourer/servant was a young looking thing, a very teenage looking person with frecklish cheeks and a teenage like voice. I could not verify their age or gender. I asked for pu-ehr(this is always a problem, as the pronouncing of the word is region specific). Once the tea pourer understood what I wanted, a strange tea ritual ensued. I was handed a white porcelian cup, shown a clay tea pot that a bushel of pu-erh was stuck in and a clear tea pot as well.
This is roughly what the tea pourer did: pu-erh in clay pot, hot water into clay pot, clay pot lid on, clay pot hot water poured between the clear tea pot and a sake cup, back and forth. The hot water fell through the vents of the wooden boxstand all elements were on. After this, the clear pot's tea-water was dumped and the process repeated. On the third time, the clear pots tea was poured back into the clay pot and the clay pot's lid put back on. Following this, the sake cup's hot water was poured on top of the clay pot. Then the clay pot's water steeped a bit and its tea-water was poured back into the clear pot. Finally, the youngen took my porcelain tea up and poured the clear pot's tea into it and told me to come back when I needed more.
The place itself sort of went three different ways. The seats outside, the downstairs that I did not see anyone go to, and the pathway towards the back. The main room was down this latter pathway and was also where the afghan music was to play. Seats were the usual mix-match of found furniture that often fills these sort of cafe places. Buddha and Hindu symbology filled the place. Shit like pillow cases were for sale and resided on the shelves stacked against the walls. The furthest room is where I sat, and it was a backdoor patio with a black oak spreading up and to the adjacent upstairs living quarters. Green moss grew everywhere and this was where people were actually hanging out. A band was already playing at the adjacent house, some mix of Neil Young and Dylan, and you could hear when somebody accidently dropped all the dishes during the house party.
When I finished drinking all of the clear pot's tea, the process was repeated but the tea left in the clay pot. I took two rounds of this before heading home. The afghan music was played by two guys who are just people who hang out there or work there, but this is the sort of place where those two roles are often the same one. Most of the people there, the people who look like they often come there, were grad students and other similarly aged folk. People traveling by bicycle, foot and skateboard. The music was fine, and eventually the house party next door died down. Around 8:30 it started the girls flocked in.
Overall, it would be hard to describe the place. There was so much stuff in each room that I tried to stare at my study materials so as not to appear so openly bewildered. I never quite understood the tea practice. I would walk back and forth infront of the band playing, with my little porcelain cup and offer it up to the tea pourer like some Dickenson street urchin.
Anyways, glad to bore the bore.
