If you're traveling to Tokyo, Ginza's "Café de L'ambre" is a place I always make time for, no matter how many new coffee shops I plan to try. My routine is always to first grab a quick fried rice at the Chinese restaurant a few doors down – the kind where Ginza office workers get their speedy lunch. That fried rice is incredible; every grain is piping hot and perfectly dry, never sticky. Only then do I head over for coffee. The first time I came, it was for the shop's history. Afterward, I fell in love with watching the master brew coffee, the rhythm of his movements, the sound of the old coffee grinder, and the process of them opening the vintage refrigerator to flash-chill drinks with large ice blocks – it's a performance of muscle memory, beautiful and educational.
After a "Pandemic" ocean, separated for several years, the moment I met the staff, they enthusiastically waved at me. Of course I recognized them, but what surprised me was that they still recognized me. Out in the world, everyone is eager to tell their own story. After our last reunion, I once again pushed open that door with the bell, and inside the house, water was still water.
