The Surprising Ambient Perfection of the Irish Coffee Shop (Where You Cannot Order an Irish Coffee)
Until very recently, an acquaintance I’ve known for some time believed me to be a barista. This was because I told her when we first met, that I ‘work in coffee shops.’ Which is indeed correct. If you walk into the cultural mecca that is Timber & Duffy of a morning, chances are you might see me there - tucked into the far corner, pounding my laptop keys with the frenzy of a concert pianist. Depending on which of my varied work tasks occupies me that day, I am either drafting a pattern, or writing an article. And considering that both require concentration, friends and colleagues often find it surprising that I choose to work in a fairly chaotic public space rather than from home.
It is likely that my preference for working in coffee shops carried over from my university days. It was typical for students then to study in public spaces, to avoid the temptations of parties, sleep, and other things, that awaited us in the dorms. And whereas the hushed sacred feel of libraries gave me a sense of being removed from the world, the bustling environment of a coffee shop did the opposite. The constant flow of activity made me feel a part of things. And the uniformity of the commotion turned it into background noise - upbeat and energising, but not distracting. So perhaps an association was formed. And after a while, the very fact of being inside a coffee shop made me feel productive.
My entire adult life I have opted for this environment - both in the days of my former, more traditional office job (where it was the norm to continue working after office hours), and in the self-employed days that have followed since. I have worked in coffee shops in England, Austria, Germany, Italy, France, and all along the East Coast of the USA - always managing to find one that suited. But in Ireland… Well in Ireland they are a special case. It is as if someone designed the Irish coffee shop with me in mind specifically.
If the Irish pub is said to be like a mother’s womb (‘no thank you,’ has always been my reaction to such an analogy!), the Irish coffee shop lacks its sense of overheated, liquidous claustrophobia. The feeling it gives is more akin to flinging open a window first thing on a breezy morning, and airing out a stuffy room.
To begin with, there is the lighting. It is challenging for a coffee shop to strike a balance, between being too dimly lit and too clinically-bright. In Ireland, they somehow manage it. The light is mild, milky, diffused - yet also bright, fostering a feeling of gentle wakefulness.
The choice of furniture is a tricky thing to get right as well. The soft, sinking sofas of ‘cozy’ coffee shops, make me lethargic. And I find no charm in the quaintness of using rustic trunks and barrels as coffee tables - their uneven surfaces causing chronic spillage and cuff staining! At the other end of the spectrum, the penchant for placing austere metal tables and chairs upon tile or concrete floors is a sensory nightmare akin to nails on a chalkboard. A nice, plain wooden chair. A flat, firm table surface. That is what I want. And it’s what the typical Irish coffee shop delivers.
But most importantly of all, there is the sound.
Irish people chat. They chat to friends as well as to strangers, weaving epic, animated stories out of non-events. They chat enthusiastically, and not especially quietly. But somehow, the chatter is absolutely ideal in volume, tempo, pitch, timber, and whatever other audio-esque terms one might use which I don’t entirely understand, for enabling me to tune out the environment and concentrate on my work. I am not easy to please when it comes to background noise. I find silence oppressive, hushed whispering distracting, hearty laughter jolting. But this… mellow river of sound as it were, is somehow just right. Perhaps to the intonation and manner of speaking, there is a pleasing congruency. There are no sharp ups and downs, nothing jarring. Even when people exclaim or laugh, somehow these vocal anomalies blend into the overall ambient effect.
I do not mean to suggest, of course, that all coffee shops in all of Ireland are the same and fit this this exact description. But as far as generalisations go, on average, all other factors being equal, etc., they fit this description more so than coffee shops in other places where I’ve had the pleasure to caffeinate. In my experience, provincial Irish coffee shops tend to be better than the ones in the cities - so visiting one in a smallish seaside town is ideal, to get the optimal experience.
It is also worth noting, that in Ireland café and coffee shop are not synonymous establishments, in the way that they are in other countries. An Irish café would be more like an eatery, serving up breakfast and lunch. You can of course also order coffee, but it’s almost an afterthought and not necessarily good. Whereas a coffee shop is about the coffee itself.
What is the coffee like, in a coffee shop? As elsewhere, the quality varies of course. I am not a connoisseur in this regard, as long as the coffee is hot and drinkable - by which I mean lacking in that harsh and sour taste that some coffee shops seem to excel in. The types of drinks made in Irish coffee shops, as well as the serving sizes, follow the American model more than a continental European one. With the one notable exception being, that the cultural norm here is to drink indoors (or in one’s car, if ordering to take away). Walking down the street with a paper cup of coffee in hand is a vestigial Americanism that I am teased for relentlessly.
Somewhat ironically, one drink that is not on the menu in Irish coffee shops, is Irish coffee. The reasons for this should be obvious: A coffee shop does not typically have a liquor licence, which is necessary to serve alcoholic beverages. But every so often, I hear visitors asking for it at the counter, and getting bitterly disappointed.
Some wonder, whether the fabled Irish coffee is in fact even Irish in origin, as it is not especially commonplace here. For anybody curious about this topic, this RTE documentary will tell you everything you need to know. But to summarise, Irish coffee is indeed Irish, having been first made in Co. Kerry by a chef who wanted to appease some grumpy tourists. The recipe was then perfected in San Francisco (where the chef subsequently moved to), where the drink’s cultural icon status solidified. Judging by the documentary, I imagine that in Kerry, Irish coffee could be a source of pride - popular even among locals. But here in Donegal, a hot whiskey or port tend to be the drinks of choice in inclement weather.
After the coffee shops shut in the afternoon, you are welcome to make your way straight to the pubs and sample these concoctions to your heart’s content. But my heart is with the Irish coffee shop - in all of its frothy, wakeful, diffuse, ambient glory.
