You know when you stumble upon that amazing little coffee shop in Buenos Aires, or Tokyo, or Lake George; spend some time there ruminating on life; maybe you’ll Instagram the experience or scribble a little ode about it on a napkin, and tell yourself: I will never forget this? Then a couple of years pass and you do, in fact, forget the name of the place, or how at peace you were in that moment?
That’s what happened to me with Café de L’Ambre in Tokyo, a dark little windowless yet cozy hideaway in the twinkle-toed Ginza neighborhood. It was like walking into a Rembrandt painting. It reminded me more of a bar than a coffee shop, mainly because I sat at a bar and my drink arrived in a champagne coupe.