It'll be thick hot the rest of the month, September tells. At 10 A.M. in the shade before Rittenhouse Square, it is cooler than the French. I'm jotting a work of Parc Fiction in my headspace, based on a few fantastical nuggets that I dropped in GChat, when a hemisphere of mocha hazelnut is set before me.
One of my main vegetarian coping skills: if the coffee drink is a hit, I want for nothing else. I will duck into my cup and let everyone else run the show.
It's a rich and creamy lava, bold all the way down, where the hazelnut most asserts itself.
The oatmeal brulee would be my first choice, but it's the rustic tartine that I bet on. It arrives toasted warm with your choice of pectins-raspberry jam or zestful orange marmalade-and cloud-like whipped butter. I notice there aren't many young people eating there. I wonder what that would be like.
Breakfast is from 7:30 to 11 A.M. Make the time. Menu on the Clog.
Parc, 227 S 18th St.