Moreover, I am thankful to live in a city that indulges independent coffee shops in all their idiosyncrasies. So that I might find comfort in knowing I will start each day, subtly branded coffee cup in hand, feeling good about what I’m drinking, if slightly worse about myself. So that I might wonder if the gravity-defying beanies that ride so low on baristas’ heads are supported by bobby pins, if guys are now wearing bobby pins, and if with my single origin drip Guatemala Maya Ixil and coffee cardamom bundt cake, I am somehow encouraging this.

I sure hope so. And if anyone ever hands me a duffel bag full of cash to invest in a business venture all my own, I know what I’ll do.

How to open an independent coffee shop:

1. When it comes to designing your logo, less is more.
2. See if you can draw a coffee cup using only two lines. Are you opening in Brooklyn? Try it with one.
3. The logo should be clear and full of reflection, like glass. Seriously, sometimes simply a big, unmarked window will do. Just make sure passersby can see plenty of birch and steel inside.
4. Having a bike rack outside should be a no brainer. But make it a confusingly conceptual one. You should need an engineering degree to get your bike in there.
5. Require that all baristas exhibit two out of three for tattoos, facial hair, and/or beanies. Bonus points if it’s a tattoo of your logo. Extra bonus points if it’s a tattoo of the logo tattooed on a bearded, beanie-wearing barista.
6. Your baked goods should be baked fresh daily, but you should also try making them square. Cookies, bars, and muffins with a slightly squared edge scream PORTLAND. SEATTLE. DETROIT.
7. Speckle them with unexpected herbs and spices. Make sure to qualify all those “ordinary” exotic herbs like Spanish saffron and black cardamom.
8. There should be Pink Himalayan sea salt on everything.
9. If there isn’t Pink Himalayan sea salt on it, there should be bee pollen. Dust, don’t sprinkle.
10. Make your own “Middle America” desserts, but make them so no one in “Middle America” would ever touch them. A Tahitian vanilla Twinkie with rose-scented buttercream? How pretentiously unpretentious!
11. Since they’re organic and baked-to-order, you should charge $8 per Twinkie.
12. Offer a curated list of non-coffee beverages as well.
13. Include one – and only one – juice from a local orchard or farm. Bonus points if it’s something people don’t usually drink. Like cherry juice.
14. Include a brand of bottled water no one has ever heard of. It should be Italian. “Oh that sounds familiar?” But it’s not.
15. Alternatively, you may install a complementary tap, offering still, sparkling, or room-temperature water. This will make customers feel grateful and valued, even if you do charge extra per drink to finance it.
16. Your milk should come from an obscure farm upstate. Extra points if it’s in a glass bottle.
17. If you’re confident enough – or enjoy upsetting picky girls – offer only whole milk. And almond milk. You know, just to show you can.
18. You should only have two options for sugar: raw sugar or simple syrup. Ring the fire alarm if anyone so much as mentions Splenda.
19. Sell Mast Brothers chocolate.
20. Don’t try and get creative here. Like any expressionist painter must first master the classics, you must display Mast Brothers before you can proceed to other more unusual expressions, like “siphon” coffee, or a Japanese ice brew.
21. Use to-go lids so thin and compostable that they do, in fact, compost a little in your mouth with every sip.
22. Teach your staff to practice conditioning behavior. Reward customers who order properly and know their beans. Withhold smiles and friendly conversation from those who ask for flavored syrups. Slap them if they order anything “Skinny.”

Rescuing October’s star from the seasonal coffee ghetto

Dunkin’ Donuts has a lot to answer for, and not just about the rising obesity rate or their perversion of the word “artisan,” which apparently now refers to absurdly flavored bagel-type foods made from a powdered mix in a warehouse in Darkest Queens. No, their greatest crime is the one they perpetrate every October in the name of pumpkin.

Sure, Starbucks carries some of this blame, as the originators of the great seasonal fraud known as the pumpkin spice latte, but it’s Dunkin’ that has been dancing on pumpkin’s grave for the past five years, with donuts, muffins, cakes, the ubiquitous lattes and, inexplicably, an iced coffee variant.

The problem here is really one of vocabulary. When they say an item is “pumpkin”-flavored, what they really mean is that it’s sweet and cinnamon-flavored. The winding etymological path takes us from pumpkins to pumpkin pie, from which the spice combination is lifted, dosed with a hit of honeyish sweetness and tinted orange for the appropriate visual cues.

Thing is, pumpkins themselves are delicious, and as a seasonal treat are among the best. Even pumpkin pie is pretty great; if only it weren’t being shoved into a white chocolate mocha. Thankfully, intrepid souls in this city willing to escape Dunkin’s tyranny need not look too far to find a real taste of the season.

Of course, there’s always the farmers’ market (check grownyc.org for your closest local), where stands are overflowing with varieties like sugar pie and Japanese kabocha; try slicing them into wedges, roasting skins and all in a 400-degree oven until tender, then topping with a bracing vinaigrette of minced cilantro, jalapeno, lime juice, cumin and a touch of honey. Roasting brings out the vegetable’s natural sweetness, while the citric punch and spice add a savory, unexpected dimension.

Those nostalgic for the good old days of jack-o’-lanterns and the ritual of baking the pumpkin’s seeds after the carving was done may not feel right partaking in the crunchy snack without all the heavy scooping. The rest of us lazy types can skip right to the good stuff with Mexican pepitas, which are so well-loved they’ve become a year-round treat. Find them at Tulcingo del Valle (665 10th Ave., tulcingorestaurant.com), a tiny deli/bodega/restaurant with some of the best hole-in-the-wall mole in town, or go upscale with the pumpkin-seed cake at Empellón Cocina (105 First Ave., empellon.com/cocina), a moist, not-too-sweet cake made even more complex with browned butter and goat’s milk caramel.

Italians have long treated the zucca (what you would call a gourd) with the respect it deserves, and even die-hard Dunkin’ fans can appreciate the charms of pumpkin ravioli, scattered with cheese and brought low with sage, that star of the Thanksgiving stuffing. At Osteria Morini (218 Lafayette St., osteriamorini.com), that flavor combination becomes a topping for crostini, the creamy squash playing even better against crusty, grilled bread. Oh, and the addition of speck doesn’t hurt.

Pumpkin beer presents another level of difficulty for flavor wranglers, as too much sweetness is a surefire ticket to hangover central. Instead, these crafty craftsmen infuse the brew with the gourds themselves, letting them soak up the deep vegetal essence without much tampering. Though their kickoff Pumpkin Picking Party has passed, Idle Hands Bar (25 Ave. B, idlehandsbar.com) is featuring as many of the brews as they can get their hands on throughout the month, both on tap and in bottles. A favorite is the Harpoon UFO Pumpkin, an autumnal variant of their classic wheat beer; on the other end of the spectrum is the Southern Tier Pumking, a deep ale best for fireside sipping.

Once you’ve reminded yourself what pumpkin actually tastes like, you’ll never go back to the land of “pumpkin spice.” Though this means you’ll need to keep your lattes simply coffee-flavored for another few months, don’t worry: Eggnog season is just around the corner.

Kaffe 1668
275 Greenwich St.
212-693-3750
kaffe1668.com

Taste: 4
Acidity: 2
Aroma: 4
Presentation: 3
Value: 4

This stylish alternative to Starbucks is big on subtleties. The menu, installed like a modern art piece, offers a sophisticated range of coffee undertones, from peach to kiwi and dulce de leche to maple sugar. Don’t be intimidated; the first and cheapest option, the Salvadorean import Finca El Rosario, isn’t a bad way to go. As summer takes its leave, this tangerine roast is a gentle reminder of sweet aromas. Those with lighter palates will enjoy the soft aftertaste, but if you need a punchy wake-me-up, consider skipping the coffee for the espresso. While the standard cup size costs more than comparable servings at Starbucks, the service and Downtown location compensate. Come for the flavors and stay for the wi-fi and conversation-friendly candlelit sitting area.

Güllüoglu Baklava Café
982 Second Ave.
212-813-0500
gulluoglubaklava.com

Taste: 5
Acidity: 5
Aroma: 4
Presentation: 5
Value: 3

For the traditional at heart, Güllüoglu’s Turkish coffee is a must. The friendly staff delivers on the signature thickness of this Middle Eastern staple which, despite its modest size, makes for a strong boost to a slow day. The make is simple, but Güllüoglu doesn’t compromise aesthetics. You’ll feel like a sultan sipping from what looks like an ornate silver sugar bowl. To round off the savory experience, the drink comes with complimentary mini-Turkish delights. For extra sweetness, treat yourself to one of 12-plus baklava options, imported straight from Istanbul. If you have time to let the heavy coffee settle, might as well stay for lunch.

Bluebird Coffee Shop
72 E. First St.
212-260-1879
bluebirdcoffeeshop.com

Taste: 4
Acidity: 5
Aroma: 5
Presentation: 2
Value: 5

From the man behind Brooklyn’s Milk Bar, Bluebird serves both charm and great coffee. The artsy décor and intimate setup is reminiscent of San Francisco—without the expected price tag. Their black coffee, at a reasonable $1.75, has a dark, sharp pull that has lured in coffee enthusiasts from all over the city. The slightly sour taste matches well with a home-baked pastry, though the recent change in owners means you won’t find the favorite pistachio-cardamom donut. The Kenyan beans are tasty, but in case you’re up for variety, Bluebird features guest espresso beans on rotation.

Koffeecake Corner
1269 Lexington Ave.
212-828-2233
koffeecakecorner.com

Taste: 4
Acidity: 3
Aroma: 3
Presentation: 2
Value: 5

At $1.75, Koffeecake Corner’s small “daily coffee” tastes fresher and less bitter than that of their competitor, Starbucks, across the street. Koffeecake’s coffee doesn’t mess around; customers won’t be offered a variety of roasts from which to choose. High in acidity and mildly bitter, Koffeecake’s single roast will provide a crisp splash of flavor and a soothing pick-me-up to any morning commute. Koffeecake’s offering comes with a cute coffee sleeve, adorned with a cupcake graphic. The Corner’s menu also boasts iced drinks and frappés, breakfast, desserts and “healthy sins,” consisting of oatmeal and yogurt. Tip: add cream and sugar to this coffee.

Java Girl
348 E. 66th St.
212-737-3490
javagirlinc.com

Taste: 4
Acidity: 2
Aroma: 4
Value: 3
Presentation: 3

Java Girl is a bit of the East Village tucked away uptown. With a pressed-tin ceiling, worn wooden floor and heaping barrels of coffee beans for sale, it offers a warm, cozy ambiance for morning meet-ups with friends as well as indie-owned solution to a neighborhood overrun with Starbucks. The coffee itself is the main attraction here with five blends that are changed out on a daily basis. The coffee is served up nuclear-hot on pour-your-own burners. The Copenhagen, a medium blend, is for those who are looking for a perk, but that don’t want the punch of Java Girl’s dark Mexican coffee blend. It’s the perfect pick-me-up as we head into the colder months.

Irving Farm
224 W. 79th St.
212-874-7979
irvingfarm.com

Taste: 5
Acidity: 1
Aroma: 4
Presentation: 3
Value: 4

This fairly new Upper West Side outpost of the Gramercy Park original is nestled into the bottom floor of a townhouse and is a welcome addition to the area. The coffee is a high-end, similarly priced alternative to Starbucks (something the neighborhood needs) and is worlds better than most coffee chains. A regular cup of joe would be fine to drink black; its low acidity and hints of nuttiness and chocolate give it plenty of flavor and not too much bite. Add a little sugar and cream, however, and it’s a real treat. The cozy café also offers a great selection of inspired baked goods and sandwiches, as well as beer and wine, and has enough wooden seating to allow sippers to linger over their excellent brew.

Part of the cheese display at Gastronomie 491.

By all rights, Nicole Ahronee should weigh 400 pounds. Walking through the aisles of Gastronomie 491 (491 Columbus Ave., betw. 83rd & 84th Sts., www.gastronomie491.com), the marketplace she recently opened on the Upper West Side, she has something to say about every single product on the shelves—she’s tasted every one, as well as countless similar that didn’t make the cut. French chocolates? Baguettes from Soho? Italian bucatini? She’s tried it and decided it was good enough to provide for her customers.

The amount of thought and effort that went into assembling the Upper West Side shop’s inventory is staggering—and the process hasn’t come to an end just because they’ve opened for business. The refrain you hear most frequently from Ahronee is “People seem to like it.” She’s watching how shoppers respond to every item, and if something doesn’t inspire the same excitement in her customers, it can be replaced.

“This is a new company I just brought in, but I think when we’re finished with this supply we won’t bring it back,” she said, pointing to one of a number of varieties of honey on offer. “It’s part of a being new store—there’s a lot of tweaking.”

That attention to detail doesn’t end with the marketplace’s well-stocked shelves. It filters down into absolutely everything, including the coffee they serve. While Italian import Illy is by now a well-known name, Gastronomie’s version may not be as familiar.

“I’m not fussy about a lot of things, but I’m fussy about coffee,” Ahronee said. “[Illy] got me to their showroom and had their barista there from Trieste, where they roast the beans, who said he would personally make me a coffee. I felt like a princess, but when I tasted it, it just wasn’t right.” That not-right coffee was the Normale roast, which is served in most cafés around the city.

“He said, ‘Just a minute,’ and went into the back and came back and made me another one, and a smile just came over my face.” That special roast, the darker Scuro, is now the coffee of choice at Gastronomie.

For the items she doesn’t know intimately, Ahronee has hired disciples to fill the gaps. In the shop’s small, open kitchen, Steven Gutterman is developing Mediterranean-tinged meals for a quick bite at the bar or one of the back tables or to take out by the pound. While most chefs watch the seasons to alter their menus, he watches peoples’ faces as they shop and eat.

In the back of the shop, Martin Johnson has built a charcuterie empire. “I knew he was the right guy when he showed up for the interview and said, ‘Would you like some cheese?’” Ahronee said. “Out of his knapsack, he pulled a little board and a knife and started cutting me some cheese right there.”

Johnson’s wraparound counter houses salumi and cheese from around the world, a strikingly sophisticated selection where Humboldt Fog, a smoke-tinged California goat cheese coated in ash, is the most well-known variety. But there’s no time to be intimidated, as Johnson is unwrapping blocks, cutting samples and telling stories for patrons the moment they show signs of confusion. It’s impossible to walk away from the counter without a parcel or two of a new favorite, sold on the strength of his enthusiasm.

The selection on the shelves is most striking when you realize the breadth of the coverage. Almonds from a family farm in California sit alongside Spanish potato chips fried in olive oil, above Antidote chocolate bars made in Long Island City. Ahronee’s attention to detail has her literally scouring the world. “Either you go to the little artisanal producer in Brooklyn or upstate, or you have to go through these big distributors that bring in the international products. I try to maintain a balance, but it can be frustrating to deal with so many different suppliers.”

Gastronomie 491 aims to be the neighborhood’s go-to hub for any point in the day, from your coffee first thing in the morning to on your way to a friend’s house for dinner. “If you need a lemon, we’ve got it. Most people you see in the shop are only carrying one or two items, but they’ll come back two or three times during the day,” Ahronee said. “I’ll see someone in the shop and say, ‘Oh, you’re still here!’ And they’ll tell me, ‘No, I just came back!’”

My alarm would go off every morning at 5:20 a.m. I would throw on a grimy brown T-shirt, often still stained from the night before, dingy Nike sneakers and too-tight jeans. My blonde hair was carelessly thrown into a ponytail or braid, I wore no makeup and usually chipped nail polish. To top off my look, I had to wear a tan baseball cap two sizes too big. This was my typical attire as a food service worker at one of New York City’s most popular bakeries.

No, I never aspired to work in a bakery. I was just one of the many recent college graduates in 2009 that had either been laid off or were “underemployed.”

I had struggled for six months to find full-time work and was only able to find temping gigs on Craigslist (working as a receptionist at a real estate office, collecting signatures for nonprofits, cleaning the sides of boats out in Connecticut). Needless to say, my work history was about as irregular as my birth control routine—when I finally landed a full-time job at a swanky Chelsea bakery, I thought, This is great! But in the world of food service, that excitement quickly dwindled into burnout.

It took two solid hours to open the bakery. The inventory: an endless array of cookies, cakes, brownies, scones, muffins and breads. The appeal to eat any of it was quickly diminished by the overpowering and sometimes nauseating smell of sugary sweetness.

The bakery opened promptly at 7:30 a.m. and, like a bank or the DMV, people would line up out the door, eagerly drooling over the chocolate croissants, apple coffee cake and lemon bars. I generally gravitated to making the drinks—less interaction with people, less shifting around. Coffee, lattes, hot chocolates, macchiatos, americanos—all, basically, drinks I could never afford.

The rule I was taught was two shots for a large cappuccino, one shot for a small, followed by a lot of foam and just a touch of steamed milk. I never followed this rule. I made all of the drinks, cappuccinos and lattes, exactly the same (no measuring, no concept of espresso to milk ratio). Even the toughest coffee connoisseur never questioned my barista skills; any complaints I got were because the drinks were too hot. Looking back, my drinks probably tasted terrible.

We had another rule at the bakery that I never understood. The idea of stellar customer service entailed putting the milk and sugar in the customer’s coffee. If someone asked for two packets of Equal in their coffee, it was, “Of course, absolutely.” The problem with this was that the majority of the time, customers would complain that you put too much or not enough of something in, defeating the purpose of the ass-kissing.

After the initial 9 a.m. rush of grumbly people on their way to work passed, life at the bakery slowed—but not for long. There were still salads and sandwiches to be brought out, iced drinks to be made, tables to be wiped and product signs to be readjusted before lunch hit. The great thing about food service is the diverse array of people working in it: struggling artists, single moms, divorcées, college graduates, high school graduates, foreigners, etc. Food service is a very non-cliquey business—whoever you are, wherever you came from and however you want to define yourself, you have a place.

In food service, you always have one scene-stealer of the day. The woman who screamed because the orange juice wasn’t freshly squeezed, the line-cutters, the indecisive tourists and those who were just angry. There’s really no right or wrong way to react to such hysteria, though I found that remaining silent and staring blankly back seemed to do the trick. We did occasionally have a celebrity appearance—Rachael Ray, Tom Colicchio, Molly Shannon—so there was a faint hint of glamor in working behind the counter.

I’m happy that my food service days are behind me. I don’t miss the customer always being right. I don’t miss smelling like a Krispy Kreme donut. And I don’t miss putting half and half in someone else’s coffee. The next time a food service employee asks you how you take your coffee, know they really don’t care and are just counting down the minutes until they get to clock out.

Still, I can think of worse jobs.