Coco and Olive, My Favourite Cafe

A writer should have a favourite cafe. Mine is a no-brainer. It's Coco and Olive at Broadway and Collingwood. 

I hear the mellow lyrical music, the voice of a young man, very much voice-dominant with the music in the background. The floor is stripped to reveal the wood underneath, and then painted white and distressed by traffic. The kitchen has been outfitted by the chefs who are the owners. Even though their business is  limited—and they limit it intentionally—their skill is considerable. Their ambitions are human sized, with vision and an intention not to let things get out of control. This means the customer too can relax and keep a happy pace in here. The servers and prep people seem to take a realistic amount of time to assemble the foods, and since there are always two for a fairly small restaurant, it really can't get to far out of hand. They charge a little bit more than usual, but not in all cases, only for tea, something people are apt to buy on its own and then occupy space drinking for a while. They have planted a fair number of flowers and plants on the boulevard outside their door, placed some pots, and there's even a tree. Today, though, it's hot in here. The table is a broken deck of wood rendered table height.

What I want to say about this cafe is to do with economy, a topic that has interested a lot of people in the past three years. One point is about not spending more energy than you have, or rather being sure always to spend less than you have. However, this becomes not a painful thing to do if you are doing what you love. You derive so much nurture and energy from doing what you love that it's really worth money in terms of your happiness. You can buy happiness, but you don't have to. You can, alternatively, whip it up yourself from scratch.