Coffee Cat

I always thought this place was too cool for me back in my college days.  I literally never went in because it looked so sophisticated from the outside with its droll little kitty drowning in cappuccino sign. Back then I had to think long and swallow hard before forking over $2.50 for a fancy coffee drink, so places that seemed expensive were intimidating.

That's why it is hilarious to finally enter, 15 years later, and realize that what's inside is your typical student hipster hangout: extremely low on pretension and high on threadbare charm. It's all here: the booth full of students studying for the TOEFL exam, loners communicating to the world with nothing but their laptop and air of studied nonchalance, bike helmets and backpacks, and the raggedy bulletin board full of ads for jazz lessons and yoga classes (I am intrigued by one for a seminar on something called "Conscious Communication" and then I am reminded of that Sandra Bullock movie where she thinks she's in love with a guy in a coma. The nice guy from "Sleepless in Seattle" is in it? And it's cute and sort of funny? Hmmm. Perhaps there is too much to look at inside the Coffee Cat. Back to work.)

There is no wait at the counter at 4pm on a Wednesday, and the barista is friendly and welcoming. I take a "Buy 10, Get 1 Free" card--that enduring item of optimism--and get it punched.  Then I see something that spikes up Coffee Cat's grade immediately: crepes!  Fresh made crepes until 2:30 every day (of course, I have missed the window). I approve. 

This photo makes the Coffee Cat look cleaner than it is.

My chai latte is three bucks and comes warm and spiced enough to be enjoyable. The comfy gray booths are full but there are plenty of small tables available. I decide immediately that Coffee Cat is high on what I will call the "slacker quotient": your ability to loaf around the place for hours without getting glares from the staff or being made to feel like a loser.  This is hugely important for writing. Momentum is important, and I'd hate to be guilted out just when things get flowing.

Big minus is the air-conditioner that is blowing directly on my head, even after I move seats.  I am completely unnerved by things like improper sound, lighting, and temperature.  (How did such a delicate orchid survive in Islamabad, Pakistan? You'll have to read the book to find out.) My sensitivity to the elements is why I am the perfect person to dissect Santa Barbara's coffee shops for you.  

Luckily the music is the perfect volume and genre, and the lighting is ideal for writing: not too harsh like the library but not too dim like a bar. And, to be fair, the need for air-conditioning at all in January is definitely a Santa Barbara kind of problem. (As in: "Man, parking in town is so scarce during the International Film Festival!" or "Argh, every time Rob Lowe is waiting in front of me at Starbucks the flirting of the cashier slows down the whole line!" or "Endless gorgeous sunny days make me sick.")

There is a distinctive "do it yourself" vibe at the Coffee Cat that I feel is conducive to the self-sufficient and isolating activity of writing: there is a microwave at the ready so you can warm up your own pizza bagel, and I get the feeling that if the dusty concrete floor is bothersome, you could likewise pick up a broom and take care of that yourself. 

Points for friendliness, slacker quotient, crepes, with a deduction for Arctic Chill and linty floor.
Coffee Cat: B

Next up: Santa Barbara Roasting Company