I felt guilty dragging my friend along for a morning coffee when she only had time for a quick coffee before scurrying back towards campus for her morning law class. For the sake of time, we had even decided to take a Lyft and then, being dropped off a block past the destination, walked down Cambridge Street at a clipped pace, searching for the storefront.
Stepping in to the small shop, white tiles and antique wood abounding, I no longer felt guilty for
insisting we visit Curio that morning.
Ferns drooped from the wall, antlers were propped on a shelf, a snake anatomy poster hung from the wall, and hornet’s nest was mounted: these were the delights we faced as we gazed about the room. However, before our eyes had time to take this all in, it was the smell that struck us—the scent of the sweet liege waffles smacked me in the face. An overwhelming smell of crystallizing sugar and buttery goodness.
I don’t care about waffles. Pancakes are fine, but waffles have never been my thing, merely a vehicle for whipped cream or fruit slop of some sort.
That’s before I tasted a liege waffle. “Why is this so good?” the hurt in my voice creeping out as these waffles ruined all preconceived notions I held against breakfast. I never expected the waffle to trick me like that. I hate when things aren’t what I expect, and this waffle was certainly shocking.
“This is why I gained 30 pounds from my gap year in Belgium.” My friend’s comment may sound bitter, but I saw it more as something to incite jealousy. If I were to gain 30 pounds, I’d do it with these waffles.
Piping hot, I hated my waffle from the start. I wasn’t even hungry yet for breakfast, but having taken a nibble at the edge and tasted the sweet cakey dough, I could not be told I would now have to WAIT to carry on with an activity that could quite possibly be the highlight of my day, or week, or month.
The baristas: a middle aged man with a very thick, well-trimmed beard, dark blue jeans. The second, a younger fellow with a green t-shirt, glasses, nose ring. His hipster nerd glasses contrasted his clean cut J. Crew apparel. Both had sleeves of tattoos that made me feel like they appreciated the arts.
They were both so hip, quietly serving their coffee and then providing unassuming young lasses with waffles so good I think it actually may have been coke, not sugar.
The shop has a moving haze of smoke from the single waffle machine that envelopes customers
who choose to sit for a while. There are four small tables, in addition to some bar stools along both the bar area and front window. The customers are just as hip as the baristas. More than one young female hipster came in, carrying juice in glass jars with metal straws.
This place does not try. It simply does. The baristas aren’t there to gab. Rather, they stay busy to the point of not refilling the water receptacle for several hours (yes I overstayed my welcome). Supplies are visible form the sitting area, left in cardboard boxes and stacked on shelves unabashedly.
Waffles are the only food they have. Don’t ask for anything else. Anything else would be playing second fiddle. This little spot does what it does, and does it well. Consider it my favorite coffee shop in Cambridge.
Stats
Price of a 12oz coffee: $2.50
Adult beverages: No.
Vibe: Warm mix of a southern donut shop and a botanist’s lab.
Music: Hipster and tasteful. Some of the best music.
Work/Study Spot?: Yes.
Wifi: Yes.
Food: Liege waffles to die for.
Punch Card: No.
Coffee Sourcing: Counter Culture
Milk Options: Soy or almond milk
Website: facebook page
Hours:
Mon – Fri (7AM-2PM)
Sat – Sun (8AM-3PM)
Location:
441 Cambridge St
Cambridge, MA 02141