The Best Coffee at Yale
My lips meet the frothy surface of a warm ceramic mug. I take a sip, ruining the cute, white heart inscribed on the milk foam. The strong taste of coffee hits the back of my tongue while the frothed milk tames it, bringing out only the right hints of bitterness.
It’s midday on a Friday and I am at Atticus Bookstore Cafe, my tradition after a long week of classes. I’ve ordered my classic cappuccino with oat milk so that I can complete my last pieces of work before the weekend. I prefer the strong, thick taste of an espresso base over a watered down, tasteless “hot coffee,” as it lasts longer and highlights certain flavors.
Even before moving to campus, I started this tradition of going to Atticus; I define my transition as a Yalie through the cappuccino and grain bowl I had on that first Friday afternoon in August. My connection to Atticus goes back to my first visit to Yale’s campus as a junior in high school. Atticus’s menu and atmosphere were major selling points as to why I chose Yale. If you want to go back even further, my dad frequented Atticus as a student here.
While I tend to make coffee runs between classes or library work sessions wherever is most convenient, my Atticus coffee is always different; I look forward to it both for the actual beverage and the ambiance of the space. While there are some cafés that may come close to achieving the harmonious pairing of coffee and milk, I have realized that they mostly fall short of creating a consistent sip. It is this sense of balance that makes Atticus distinct: not only in its ratio of coffee to milk, but in the way it is both crowded and intimate, both a part of school and the perfect escape from it.
This search for flavor defines my experiences at Blue State which, due to convenience, is my most frequent spot. While Blue State receives most of my weekday business due to its two central campus locations, Atticus continues to remain the pinnacle of my New Haven coffee experience. I walk into Blue State and am overwhelmed by the tables of students studying. It is loud, and the blue walls lack vibrancy and make me feel caved in. I order my usual cappuccino or latte, but I find it lacking that strong taste. Because of this, I have found myself hovering over the sugar and cream table, cinnamon shaker in hand, hoping to add some punch to my drink. I rarely find that a Blue State beverage succeeds in properly kicking me into shape so that I can work productively. Blue State is a quick medium between one part of my day to the next, but it is never a place I find myself sitting down to enjoy. Atticus, on the other hand, is in itself an activity; sitting with my coffee in hand, hours can pass without my notice.
From time to time, I go to Willoughby’s Coffee and Tea on Church Street, the counterpart to Blue State in atmosphere; it is a tiny, warmly lit, white space with minimal seating. I set up my laptop at a table beside the floor-to-ceiling windows. Yet, I am distracted by the single conversation next to me; unlike at Atticus, there is no merging sea of voices but rather isolated sounds and conversations.
My first time at Willoughby’s, the barista handed over my drink in a disposable cup. Removing the plastic lid, I realized the cappuccino wasn’t filled to the rim and the thick, airy layer of foam was completely separated from the rest of the beverage. I found myself collecting the remnants of this foam by cranking my head all the way back. I was hyper-focused on the coffee itself and not so much my work. At Atticus, I can engage with my coffee and work with equal attention. I can forget about the drink and then pick it up again, and it will still taste the same.
The Silliman Acorn is almost like a mini, student-run Atticus on campus — its coffees are balanced and served in large mugs, and there is an intimate yet crowded feel to the space. But when I’m at the Acorn, I am in the midst of the Yale bubble. I miss Atticus’s front window where I can look out at Chapel Street, sitting at a small table packed between other people under soft yellow light. The wide Atticus window gives me a direct view of the Yale University Art Gallery and the corner of Old Campus, yet I feel the perfect distance from the school world, surrounded by unfamiliar voices and rows of books that span titles beyond the classes I am taking.
Atticus is more than just a cappuccino for me; it is about escaping the encompassing Yale bubble and finding that medium between school and downtown New Haven. Atticus provides a reminder that there is a world beyond Yale, yet it also allows me to enjoy the best parts of it — its students and teachers who come in and out between and after classes, seeking respite that allows them to refocus and re-engage on campus. As I exit the café, I am energized with a new feeling of aliveness that carries me through the week and into the next Friday.
