On a stroll through my neighborhood recently, I stopped before a vacant storefront, drooling like it was a window display featuring Manolo Blahniks half off (sorry, cheap Sex and the City reference). The art deco building, straight out of the 50s, was most recently a liquor store. Today though, a sign in the window with a cool font (always a good omen), announced that a bakery and café called Sofra would be opening this summer. With Starbucks’ scant tables packed at all hours and Panera the go-to place if you want to camp out for four hour stretches, I was unnaturally excited that the hood was getting a new café.
A little online research turned up the fact that it’s a Middle Eastern bakery coming to town right around the corner from my house. I turn up every day hoping to thank the owner for picking this spot, but only contractors mill around inside transforming a dusty interior to what I hope will be a trendy but hidden spot. It’s like they’re opening a place just for me to satiate my sugar and lounging desires. Until, that is, everyone else discovers it, and then every Sunday there’s a line out the door for lamejuns. Great, now I’m preemptively annoyed.
**Update** Sofra opened today (8/19) and already there were people milling about outside this morning. It’s kind of killing me that I’m at work while there are earthquake cookies to be devoured and palace bread with rose and pistachio waiting to be sampled. The menu sounds lovely and aromatic and the descriptions reminiscent of an Anthropologie catalog. I’m only sorry it’s too close to my house to resist. But then, why resist?