Flood's On Draft [05]
Love (soup of the day) is blind
Rosewood to Greene
Getting into coffee wasn’t a conscious choice, it just kinda happened – which I guess is how addictive things like caffeine work. I’m not mad about it – drinking coffee is an incredibly enjoyable part of my daily life and routine. Sometimes I go to sleep excitedly thinking about tomorrow’s cup.
Coffee, much like wine, is something I’d say I’m particular, but not quite knowledgeable about. This is honestly right where I want to be. I’m not sure eloquently expressing tasting notes will ever be something that lights me up, but I can certainly decipher between good and bad cups. I’m good with that.
My intro to “good” coffee came during the back half of my college years at the University of Michigan. I was introduced to RoosRoast, a quirky, “deep local” purveyor of serious, but approachable coffee. I was majorly hooked on their “Ice Bomb” – smooth, but dangerously potent cold brew. Drinking even half of the 16 oz portion would produce full-body tingles, followed closely by accession into a state of supreme mental clarity. I credit this beverage with my success (survival?) in Psychology 389 taught by Professor David Dunning. Drinking Roos’ cold brew is, to this day, the closest I’ve come to believing in a higher power.
RoosRoast was also my introduction to cafe culture — the lifestyle and social atmosphere that comes with spending time at the coffee shop. This discovery was even more revolutionary than the coffee itself. Growing up, I had observed my parents pouring coffee in to-go cups before hustling out the door to drive me and my brother to school, or hockey practice. RoosRoast showed me it was okay to sit and slow down with your cup. It’s what all the regulars were doing, I figured I should give it a shot.
I found myself enjoying my time parked at Roos – sometimes studying, most of the time just existing. It’s a funky building on Rosewood St, off-campus just a bit. The facade is dijon mustard-tiled, and there’s a big oak tree in the front yard whose branches hover over a few picnic tables. Inside, it’s warm, woody, tastefully bootstrapped and mismatched. I always liked the seat in the back left corner – it was bright orange with a metal frame, like something you’d find in a middle school classroom. It was a great seat because I could watch the flow of customers without being caught in the commotion by the register. Sometimes I’d bring friends to RoosRoast, but most of the time I just liked being there on my own.
Hanging at Roos was a break from reality, and an escape from the hectic outside world. You could do whatever you wanted there: talk with friends, sit in solitude, knit a sweater, get work done, read a good book. I was into it. It became a place where I spent a lot of time.
Nowadays, when I’m going out for coffee I’m usually weighing the importance of both coffee quality and cafe culture. My favorite places in New York have both components going for them. SEY in Bushwick has perfect espresso, and a plant-filled, industrial room I love spending time in. I could sit at Abraço’s long communal table for hours (and often do), sipping on their iced coffee and making friends with strangers. Villager, in Crown Heights, checks every box for me – coffee I love to drink, and a long counter where I love to read.
There are plenty of days where I don’t need both elements together. Sometimes I just want to drink great coffee at home — I have a nice pourover setup that allows me to do that. Other times, I just want to get out of my apartment and into the world — to experience the beauty of cafe culture without the thought of single origins, small-batch roasting, and the pursuit of a perfect cup. This is harder to find.
For the days when I want great space without the concern of world-class coffee, I often head to Prima. It’s a charming cafe on the ground floor of a beautiful Clinton Hill brownstone on tree-lined Greene Ave. It would be easy to walk by – the signage is a simple brass post that blends in with its surroundings. The entrance is precarious – down three steps, where you’ll carefully duck your head beneath the stoop that hangs above.
Inside, it’s one of the warmest, coziest rooms in Brooklyn. Light pours in through the front windows, casting a golden glow throughout the space. It smells like fresh baked goods because they’re always freshly baking goods — the za’atar feta biscuit is a worthwhile order if available. It’s tight and narrow — you’ll have to shimmy in and out of chairs, but every inch of Prima is well-utilized. It needs to be, because Prima is packed from open to close.
The cafe culture at Prima is special. It’s a total mixed bag of people and conversations, but it all blends into a wonderful symphony of Brooklyn locals biding their time. Today alone there was: a girl crocheting, a group of ladies recapping a mushroom trip, a guy reading Hamlet, and a couple breaking up (there were tears). And me, writing this newsletter.
My favorite seat at Prima is actually outside on the front porch. There are two small tables, two seats each. They’re highly coveted, especially on nicer days. If you luck out with a spot, know you’ve got it good. You’ll watch passersby and notice the trees sway in the wind — it’s lovely. If the seats out front are taken, the high-top ledge just inside the front door is where I’ll post up. It seats 4, snugly. You’ll feel the energy of the cafe behind you, but all you’ll see is the tranquility of Clinton Hill.
The coffee is perfectly fine, but nothing special. Simple drip is served ripping hot. It’s strong, sometimes a bit gritty, but never burnt. A 20 oz cup is $4 flat. It does the trick. The cold brew is on the weaker side, but it makes for easy sipping. If you come expecting world-class coffee, you’ll be disappointed. If you come expecting a vibrant cafe and incredibly charming space, you won’t be.
Prima is the perfect example of a place that’s great not because of what it offers, but because of how it makes you feel — because of the cafe culture, and the people that play into it. I’m curious to find more places in the city that deliver a similar experience — not necessarily the best at what they do, but places that make you feel great. If you have a place in mind, drop it in the comments. I’d love to pay them a visit.
Recently Added
The newest additions to the Flood’s hit list
Lucia Pizza of Soho Soho, New York
My fondness for Lucia has grown over time. When the South Brooklyn boys brought the beloved Avenue X slice shop to money-making Manhattan, there was an intense wave of hype that came with it. I couldn’t help but feel like it was massively overblown. Thankfully, the TikToks are well in the rearview, and the insanity has subsided. Lucia has settled into its role as an accessible, dependable, New York slice shop – it’s one of the best in the game for an upgraded, but still classic piece of pizza. It’s perfectly positioned at the corner of Broadway and Canal Street where Soho meets Tribeca – the smell of fresh pies permeates both neighborhoods. It’s a corner I find myself passing often, and it’s incredibly hard not to stop in.
The slices run clean – not too greasy, minimal flop, but substantial and full of flavor. Most of the time, I opt for the simple and delicious margherita. But the more involved caramelle piccante, with hot cherry peppers, pepperoni, and hot honey is, as you can imagine, a big winner.
Best Dishes
Some of the best things I ate (or drank) recently
Sweet & Sour Cabbage Soup — Lula Cafe Logan Square, Chicago
On a crisp fall afternoon at Chicago’s Lula Cafe, I blindly ordered “soup of the day” because it just felt right. What landed on my table was a deeply flavorful cup of sweet & sour cabbage soup, served with a perfectly golden piece of sourdough. The aromatic, umami-packed broth was rich, bright, and balanced with the perfect amount of acidity. Syrupy kecap manis added a touch of sweetness. Tender cabbage added lots of texture. It was a magnificent soup — I wish I opted for a bowl.
Cardamom Bun — Smør Clinton Hill, Brooklyn
Honestly, I’ve yet to encounter a cardamom bun I didn’t like. Don’t hold me to this statement but I think it’s my all-time favorite baked good. Smør’s rendition of the delightful Scandinavian pastry is a great one. It’s sticky, sweet, and spiced just right. Fluffy inside, and a little chewy, but with a crisp exterior. Their new Clinton Hill space is bright and minimal — it’s a very welcome addition to the neighborhood.
Flood’s Hi-Fi
Artists and records for moving and grooving
Reyna Tropical — Malegría (album)
Sensual is the first word that comes to mind when listening to Reyna Tropical’s debut record Malegría. It’s a flow-state-inducing mix of soothing guitar riffs, soft vocals, afro-influenced drum patterns, and Latin grooves. Some songs on the record have elements that remind me of other artists I know and love – Sofia Kourtesis, Kali Uchis, Tash Sultana – but overall, the body of work feels so fresh, and unique. It’s woven together beautifully and feels deeply personal with the voice note interludes featuring conversations between Fabi Reyna and her late band-mate Sumohair Diaz. Malegría is rhythmic, dreamy, and just a special listen.
Talking Heads — Girlfriend is Better (song)
I’ve been giving the Talking Heads discography a proper listen-through, and I’m having a blast doing it. One of my favorite tunes, “Girlfriend is Better,” is a frantic, scattered, high-energy song from their legendary record Speaking in Tongues. It’s so perfectly weird – electro, funky, synthy. Ending the track with a minute-long, fat, wobbly instrumental breakdown is fittingly wild. At the end of the day, this song is just a goddamn jam.
Get the full Flood’s Hi-Fi playlist, updated regularly on Spotify
Up Next
Places on my radar
Untable Carroll Gardens, Brooklyn — we’re in the midst of the perfect weather for spicy Thai food and this is where I want to eat it
Clemente Bar Flatiron, New York — I’m not usually into hyper-swanky cocktail bars, but the scene at Eleven Madison Park’s new upstairs lounge is quite enticing
Cellar 36 Two Bridges, New York— feeling like it’s time to mix up the regular LES wine bar rotation