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Health & Fitness

Fork Slope: A Review of Roots Cafe

Fork Slope is a weekly review column of restaurants, cafes and bars in Park Slope, Brooklyn. You can find it on ParkSlope.Patch.com and on www.fwordsblog.com

I learned something recently: Just as one should never go grocery shopping when one is hungry, one should never set out on a 16-block hike in search of morning coffee unless one has ingested a pre-game cup.

By the fifth block, I was already mentally cursing the friend who had recommended on multiple occasions. By block 10, she was dead to me. It was only at block 14, when I spotted perhaps the most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen in Park Slope exiting the doors I was headed toward, that I reconsidered my scowl.

But good looks only go so far with me. My need for caffeine runs much deeper. So the scowl remained in place as I entered the crunchy-cool coffee house.

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Roots Café is located at 639 Fifth Avenue at the corner of 18th Street. Decorated with gently worn furniture, walls displaying a mishmash of local art and mounted instruments (Accordion? Check. Ukulele? Check.), and a predictably folk-centric soundtrack drifting around the room from hidden speakers, it is not the type of place that coordinates with frowning.

But frown I did, especially upon reaching the cashier counter and learning the previously suggested vegan Twinkies I’d also been hoping to sample after my pilgrimage were sold out.

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“Sold out” are the two loneliest words in the world. It’s like getting rejected before you even make it to the first date. What? But I? Why?

The ecstatic server behind the counter, perhaps sensing my increasing discomfort, immediately suggested alternatives from the admittedly bountiful pastries around me. And as I decided between the Strawberry Peach Muffin, a gluten-free cupcake and a vegan brownie, she got to brewing me a tall cup of Stumptown.

As soon as the scent of coffee hit my nose, it was like a kick of methamphetamine to my veins (or so I imagine?), which is to say that everything began to assume Technicolor vibrancy a la that scene in "The Wizard of Oz," when she awakens after the tornado.

I noticed the colorful, mismatched mugs hanging on nearby wall hooks. People sitting at various small tables, reading the paper or quietly tapping the keyboard of their laptops smiled happily as I scanned the room. Thumbing the top of the muffin, I found the texture to be sufficiently spring-y. And when my ever-glowing barista returned with my coffee, she was so earnest in her recommendation of the brownie that I splurged for that densely rich and chewy square too.

It was an unusual breakfast trifecta, certainly. But in this place seemingly so far from home, it came down to this: If you’re serving Stumptown, I already trust that you have a discerning palate. The Strawberry Peach Muffin was made by a local baker and tasted exceedingly fresh, with a light buttery crumb. And the brownie? Well, I figured since I was so far from home…no one would ever have to know.

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