In the early 90's, the staff was one big family, led by Mary, the beloved owner and manager. The regulars, many of whom were actors and stars, were REGULARS, as in devoted customers who'd arrive at the same hour every day. Vincent Schiavelli would order the same double espresso every afternoon, served in a miniature porcelain cup and saucer. I knew him as the haunted ghost on a train in the movie "Ghost", but at the Coffee Bean he loved discussing opera and food. I remember serving James Remar, pre-"Dexter" days. I recognized him immediately as Dutch Schultz from "The Cotton Club". John Malkovitch was a regular, along with drop-ins like Faye Dunaway and Teri Garr. One of the regulars was drummer Jack LeCompte, who was actually dating one of the girls behind the counter. (He and I became great friends and ended up working together for years...we still do!)
The Coffee Bean back then was actually considered an authentic coffee house, the "anti-Starbucks". Big bins of fresh beans from all over the world were on display behind glass, each with a giant metal scooper, and you could pick your poison froma variety of beans - Guatemalan, Costa Rican, Java, Mocha, Sumatra...
The mix of aromas in the Coffee Bean was indescribable. The beans all arrived in huge drawstring burlap bags, and we ground all the beans right there behind the counter. We, the "baristas", learned the tricks of the trade while navigating the slosh behind the counter wearing platform rubber-soled clogs (you had to wear clogs back there). Spilled milk, crushed ice spilling over the tops of the blenders, crushed beans and water congregated on the tile floor in mass puddles, and I remember hydro planing while balancing a blender in one hand and reaching for the counter with the other.
We actually mixed the "ice-blendeds" in actual garden variety kitchen mixers. We learned how to create the perfect foam (low fat milk forms the best froth), and all our drinks were listed on chalkboard up on the wall. Mary had beautiful handwriting and she wrote out all the drinks by hand.
I thought the burlap bags were so cool, I took them home and used them as area rugs.
The Coffee Bean was a meeting place for many actors in between call times and auditions and also a haven for neighborhood residents. You couldn't hear anything above the din of spirited conversations, laughter and debates. All the employees were artists, actors, dancers, singers and musicians. Mary loved hiring creative people and she gave us the flexibility we needed for auditions and jobs. We didn't make much money, but the tips helped, and they were all collected in a huge glass jar and split among us at the end of our shift.
This morning, I walked into a different Coffee Bean, 20 years later.
Gone were the big bins of whole beans. Everything now is "pre-ground" before it ever arrives in the store. You can't even smell the coffee. The chalkboards are replaced by cheap-looking printed signs. There's no "bar" in front of the counter anymore. Everything is clean, generic and packaged.
Customers don't talk to each other about music or opera or the latest film; everyone is hooked into their iPad or laptop, earphones blocking out the world. Or busy texting.
I ordered a cafe latte in the one flavor offered, and somehow a girl (who hadn't been in line) sidled in front of me and claimed it as her own. This non-paying customer actually stole my coffee. Nobody behind the counter noticed.
So, I'm feeling a little nostalgic for the old Coffee Bean on Larchmont. Back then, I didn't realize how fleeting it was or how drastically life would change.
And I wonder what I'll be waxing nostalgic about 20 years from now.
