When our photographer went to shoot pics for this little flip, it was her first visit to Café Presse. Her report pretty much summed it up: “Everywhere I went I was in someone’s way!” She meant this quite literally. Presse fashions itself a French clusterfuck. While we Americans are known to love having ample room to breathe, stretch, and move about, the French don’t seem to mind getting cozy with each other. This is something the folks at Presse have—intentionally or otherwise—emulated, without being cloying about it. Here’s the deal with this joint: It’s French as shit without trying hard to be so. They are open—like all the best French places—from 7 a.m. until 2 a.m., which means you can stop in for coffee and a pain et beurre ($2.50) in the mornings, then come back after work for a bowl of soupe a l’oignon gratinée ($11) and several glasses of affordable French rosé or Stella Artois. Because of the tight spacing, the seating can feel a bit communal. But the selection of magazines and newspapers greeting you at the door makes it obvious that Presse encourages the socially inept among us to hole up in a corner and skim the pages of Dwell and Saveur.
Presse Here for Breakfast
And again for an after-work munch.
