Ground Central Coffee Company – Hell’s Kitchen
A real home away from home
I’m not a native New Yorker. I grew up across the shore in Jersey, where I spent much of my time idealizing city life and wishing that I was a cool city kid instead of a boring suburban one. Even after college, when I lived at home for a while and worked to save up money, I never really considered that I could live in New York.
I’m not sure why – I knew it was expensive, of course, and I didn’t have much money saved. I guess that was my excuse. But it also felt like a bit of a pipe dream, maybe – something that had been such a fantasy to me as a kid, that I could hardly entertain the idea that it might become reality. In fact, I came damn close to moving to Atlanta. Only a violent, last minute impulse and subsequent frantic housing search on Facebook saved me. And that’s how I ended up in Brooklyn.
I’m not a native New Yorker. I grew up across the shore in Jersey, where I spent much of my time idealizing city life and wishing that I was a cool city kid instead of a boring suburban one. Even after college, when I lived at home for a while and worked to save up money, I never really considered that I could live in New York.
Now, in my fifth year in New York, I still have moments where I am struck absolutely dumb with awe that I get to make my life here.
It’s by no means a perfect city, but at the same time, it is. And because this city is so great, it gets a lot of tourists.
We’re all tourists at some point in our life. They’re not (for the most part) doing anything wrong. If they stick out like a sore thumb and don’t know how the subway works, that’s hardly their fault. But it’s hard not to be annoyed by them sometimes, isn’t it? A superior little voice in the back of your mind looks at them and goes, ugh.
To be clear, I’m a great friend to tourists in New York City. I tend to look very approachable, and people frequently ask me for directions. I try to do my best by them. After all, I’ve been on the flip side of this myself: on a late night visit to the city not long before I moved here, I got completely lost on the subway on my way back to Penn Station. When I finally caved and asked for help, a young woman (also named Lauren, strangely!) came to my rescue and rode the train with me all the way there. She was an aspiring comedian and I hope she’s doing well.
Ground Central Coffee Compay on 6th Ave is only a few blocks from Central Park, so naturally it’s crawling with tourists.
Every time I hung out there, at least one person had a suitcase with them. I don’t think this really takes away from the vibe of the place, except that being in a touristy area means that it can get more crowded than other shops. Still, it’s a big space and they make good use of it. In the front room, they have a big communal table and a good scattering of smaller ones as well. Even when it was busy I always managed to squeeze myself a spot somewhere.
But the back room of the coffee shop is where the real good shit is.
Picture it: floor to ceiling bookshelves. A big, worn leather couch. Mismatched cushioned chairs. Cracked leather ottomans to put your feet on.
There’s even a coffee table in the middle to complete the living room feel. I love a coffee shop with couches, and this one really fits the bill. You can come here in the winter, stomp the snow off your boots (if we get any snow, unlike last year) and feel absolutely snug. The only thing it’s missing is a fireplace.
The coffee is good, and last time I visited they had some inventive snacks on the menu. I had a pineapple muffin that was excellent. So, as long as you can forgive the tourists their occasional sins, Ground Central is a great place to write. Bring your laptop, get cozy, and settle in for the long haul.
Bonus song! Sorry – The Moth & The Flame
