Parc Breakfast: Mocha Haze in my Brain, Part II

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.