My Cafe Report X.
Yelp
Villager is located one small street away from Prospect Park, a park that I cannot think about without envisioning muddy dogs swimming in the pond they call the dog beach. You can go to Villager, however, without even being aware of its vicinity to such a nice park and still feel like you've seen a lot of green. The block on which the café is situated has a coolness to it, as if it is always a comfortable 72 degrees Fahrenheit. Part of it stems from it having what I believe is the tidiest sidewalk tree in New York City. The tree itself is large and provides plenty of shade. It's probably dozens, maybe one hundred years old (clearly, I have no idea, but the point is it's substantial). It has some small leafy friends planted in its plot of soil, which is lined with rocks, then doubly bordered with a rectangle of wooden benches. Not a piece of litter in sight. Brooklynite women wearing color-blocked outfits and socks with sandals manspread across the benches; tired-looking people with messy hair and silver laptops walk in and out through the glass door that is propped open. This is just the setup. Do you understand? We haven't even gone inside yet.
It's one of those businesses that doesn't have a proper store sign, but you'll still go in because the front is fully glass; you see the coffee machines, the tables with apricot-colored spots, and the orb lamps hanging over the pretty kitchen constructed with light-colored wood, and you think--this place looks like they have coffee. The ceilings are high. Potted ferns and pothos hang from the water pipes that have been painted a brassy gold. I feel whatever about the plants as I do about most potted plants. I prefer the tree outside. Otherwise, the decor consists of cross-stitched seaside landscapes and paintings of Canadian geese, but these are located near the back of the café, so they're not very important.
The crux of Villager is the way it blurs the border between customer and barista. A café by nature is a place where you can engage in idle conversation as you order your coffee, but here, the customer experiences more physical closeness with the workers. This actually made me realize--I rarely see the barista's lower body at other cafés. Villager's barista station is not walled off but opens directly onto the front door. Thus, you see the baristas stepping back and forth between the espresso machine and the grinder, and you see them walk down to hand-deliver your drink to you. You order your coffee while standing peaceably side by side with the cashier who will also make your cup. You get the sense that 'Customer is person; barista is person.'
When I visited on a Tuesday afternoon, it was indeed around 72 degrees outside, which may be why I blissfully assert, 'Ah this place? Always 72 degrees.' I sat by one of the three tables at the front of the café. I leaned against the glass wall. I glanced at the small tea glass vases of flowers on each of the tables and thought, why does everyone like those flowers that look like brainy coral? I turned to the potted fiddle-leaf fig tree beside me. I wondered if it was intentional that the latest New York Times was lying inside the pot. I wondered, who put that there? Later, the two baristas walked out of their station and grabbed the NYT, muttered something about something always being in the arts section as they flipped through it, then put it down on the bench beside the plant, and returned to the barista station.
