That’s the café in Berkeley. The one with the tree decorated with hot pink cassette tapes dangling from the ceiling. Where everyone was eating the largest salads I have ever seen out of the most charming thin, wooden bowls. Truly, those salads were health incarnate. And where the very kind gentleman in front of me in line, who after hearing me ask the counter girl if could buy a single slice of bread just for the taste, offered me the ¼ loaf that accompanied his vegan bisque. The café where the coffee is only fair trade and benefiting female-centric microenterprises in the Chiapas region of Mexico. And its “brewed” in front of you, the old-fashioned Melita way. I really liked that café. And to my surprise (honest), I really liked Berkeley.