Appreciating the top of the morning

New Yorkers are, by and large, not morning people. I think that’s why we invented brunch, or at least act like we did.

Ironically, it has always been my dream that one day some guy would take me on a morning date. Usually, I get stuck with the sleepers—not unsurprisingly, since 95 percent of my peers are sleepers. However, for me, the most romantic time of day is the morning.

“You mean like breakfast the morning after?” asked a friend when I shared my secret desire. “You can’t have a morning date without going out the night before.”

I beg to differ—though there is no reason that a morning date cannot follow an evening date/sleepover. The point is to take advantage of the city in its best light, both literally and figuratively. Going out on the town at night is committing yourself to fighting crowds and inevitably being squished into a small corner, shouting to be heard.

The city before noon on a weekend, however, is empty and almost quiet. The streets are sparse, with just the occasional jogger or dog walker, and even ordinary things look different—perhaps because the sun is coming from the East for a change?

My one and only morning date (and perhaps the beginning of my fascination) landed me at One If By Land, Two If By Sea (17 Barrow St. between West Fourth and Bleeker streets), known for being one of the most romantic restaurants in the city.

The only company we had in the restaurant was one couple sitting behind us with no boundaries when it came to PDA. Ignoring the lip locking going on to the right, it was as if the live piano, plush furniture, and crème anglais french toast was set up just for us. Even with the mimosas, we walked out with wallets about three times fuller than if we had gone out to dinner.

Just because you don’t have a date, however, doesn’t mean that you can’t enjoy the peace of morning in the city.

Any morning romp should begin (and perhaps also end) with a smooth, strong cup of coffee. For a period of several months, I would hop on the 1 around 9 a.m. every Sunday morning in search of the best cup of coffee in the city.

One of my favorite morning routes emerges from the subway at Christopher Street (near One If By Land). The West Village is one of the best places to feel “neighborhoody” in the city. The craziness that is Seventh Avenue at night has long-since been swept away on its wave of drunkenness, and all that remains is the occasional dog walker or jogger coming out of the pretty brick walk-ups.

Buried within the maze of tiny side streets, not far from where Waverly Place intersects Waverly Place, is Joe, the Art of Coffee (141 Waverly Pl. at Gay Street). Many a top-10 list includes Joe—the espresso is smooth and the baristas love to practice their latte art on “for here” orders. But don’t be surprised if the staff is short with non-regulars—just because New York is different in the morning does not mean that New Yorkers are.

For a more complicated journey, but a better cup of joe, head to Abraco (86 E. Seventh St. at First Avenue) near the Astor Place subway stop. The East Village is not quite as clean and simple as its Western counterpart, but it is just as deserted and easier to navigate. Abraco is scarcely bigger than a Carman closet, but its espresso packs a punch, the olive oil loaf is amazing, and each drip coffee ordered is individually filtered. It’s heaven in the morning.

Rise and shine, Columbia, and discover life before noon.

Shane Ferro is a Columbia College sophomore majoring in political science and sustainable development. Weekend Romp runs alternate Fridays.