‘Bigote’, of course, is Italian for ‘bigot’, so it’s no surprise that the ample signage around the door of this otherwise-pleasantly bohemian cafe proudly proclaims “No Lesser Races”. Of course in the absence of specificity about which races that would entail, they seem quite happy to admit anyone for a pleasant sit on the mismatched furnishings, a snack, and a decent gulp of espresso.
Careful readers will likely understand intuitively that I mean ‘mismatched furnishings’ in a good way. You may well be gripped by a feeling of ‘Shimokita’ while you’re here. I didn’t get a picture of the back wall, which is formed of large pieces of cardboard covered in artsy purple and gold grafitti. I did get far too many pictures of the small counter, the diner-style stools, the leather banquettes, and the nailed-up 2X4 tables, and this is the best one. Considering that this is pretty much the ass-end of Nihonbashi, and heading into the dead zone along Showa Dori, they have no right being this hip, but god bless ’em. It’s relaxing. I hope my tie didn’t dampen the spirits of the other patrons, who were variously dressed in all black or bike messenger chic.
The fact that I described the food as ‘a snack’ without a qualifier in relation to its tastitude can’t be a good sign. What really made up my mind that I had to go here was the legend ‘calzone’ on the chalkboard outside. Lordy me, I do love a good calzone. This was nothing like a good calzone, and let’s not even go into it. Also, it’s every bit as small as it looks. With the 15+ minute walk back to the office, I was hungry before I got back.
Coffee was pretty good though; I’d say ‘second class’ if I felt qualified to make judgements about coffee, but I don’t. (If I was qualified, however, I’d extend down to fourth-class or so, like the rankings on my new static pages, and second class would be quite good.) This seemed like good beans, good machine, good technique…just a little something missing to push it over the edge.
Lordy me!
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