Sometimes I come across a cozy café in my neighborhood that offers the perfect atmosphere for writing. The interior looks beautiful, the seats are comfortable, and the din isn’t too loud. However there is a serious problem that prevents me from choosing that place as a designated writing spot: the smell.
A few coffee shops in my neighborhood offer hot food as well as coffee. Some even serve ethnic foods that smell so powerful, they mask the heady, nutty aroma of coffee and make the place feel like an Italian restaurant, a Greek tavern, or an Indian buffet. With the notes of fresh java missing from the air and the savory tang of organic spices and tomato sauce invading my senses, the coffee shop is no longer cozy for me. Even though everything else is perfect and inviting, I walk out the door and start to look for another place.