I blame my mom for my extreme coffee addiction. Every morning before school, she would lure me out of bed under the promise of a warm, chocolate-y mug of Ovaltine. We would sit on the couch, eyes half-shut, half watching an animated aardvark on the television, me with my cup of Ovaltine, her with her cup of coffee. She taught me how to embrace the morning gently and slowly, maintaining the serenity of sleep while motivated by a steaming cup of sultry sweetness. It only took a couple years for me to switch to the hard stuff -- Ovaltine was clearly just a gateway drink.
So this strong addiction/commitment to ritual (however you want to look at it), led me on a quest in search of the perfect coffee oasis in Tel Aviv. Somewhere that felt like a sliver of home in a new, far-off land. And lucky for me, this idyllic enclave wasn't too far away.
As you wander among several shuttered apartment buildings and countless overgrown gardens, you might wonder if you should continue to trust your pre-planned out Google Maps route. The silence of the streets and the general lack of arseim aren't typical signs that you are approaching an indie beit café, but never fear. You'll know you've arrived when you see a scattering of smile-y, clearly caffeinated people pouring out of what looks to be a ground floor apartment.
Cafelix is a tiny and timeless gem insulated in the middle of a Central Tel Aviv residential neighborhood. The espresso bar is one of four in Tel Aviv, and although their main roastery is actually based in Jaffa, the true magic happens here, at the Shlomo ha-Melekh location.
Once you part through the sea of scattered laptops and laughter on the outside patio, you'll be welcomed by the clattering of cups and chill indie jams playing at the perfect volume both for working and chatting. The inside space is very cozy (read: small) and with only 5 tables and maybe 20 chairs, each spot is considered prime real estate. Chances are you'll end up sitting on a repurposed coffee barrel or sharing a table with a stranger. And while the thought of not being able to spread out all of your papers or be anti-social may seem uncomfortable, I think this ends up being the best part. The physical closeness begets a personal closeness.
High-fives and hugs and hand-holding: it seems like everyone is running into their long-lost best friend. It's the kind of place where you don't feel like you have to ask someone to watch your stuff while you go to the bathroom. It's the kind of place where you can kneel on the floor and start playing with someone else's dog. It's the kind of place where even though a lot of people are masked in the glow of their computer screen, you know you can still start a conversation with them and they would be just as grateful for the human connection as the internet connection.
The best representation of this closeness is the stacked and crooked shelves of personalized cups belonging to the cafe's regulars. Each cup sits atop an old-fashioned, typewriter print name tag of a person who's dedicated a lot of time and radiated a lot of positive vibes into the space. This wall of fame looks straight across to the main fulcrum of the cafe: the espresso bar.
For Cafelix, it's all about the coffee and you can tell. They aim to source all of their beans sustainably by creating strong relationships with farmers and ensuring that they treat the environment and their workers ethically. Like most coffee shops in Tel Aviv, you'll find the classics: cappuccinos, americanos, and kafeim karim. They're reasonably priced and taste much more robust and earthy than those you'd find at Aroma or Cofix. But if you really want to satisfy your caffeine hankering, you have to order their nitro cold brew.
A near religious experience for only 18 shekels. Steeped over cold water for over 24 hours, then infused with nitrogen gas and pressed through what looks like a beer tap, the sweet nectar of the beans has traveled a long way just for you. From the first glance, it might seem like the barista confused your order and accidentally handed you a glass of Guinness. Its beautiful, cascading bubbles and thick foam collar don't look like the stern black coffee Starbucks made you accustomed to. Once you take your first sip, your Monday afternoon study break morphs into a slow Shabbat morning. The astringent bitterness of the cold brew and the silky smoothness of the nitrogen bubbles create a sweet symphony that resonates throughout your mouth and heart.
And if the nitro cold brew isn't jazzy enough by itself, let the perky sweetness of their tiny desserts add a few other notes. Speckled along the bar counter, you'll find old-school mason jars filled with tiny portions of brownies, cookies, and granola bars. And if you're thinking, "Oh my goodness, I want to try them all!", you totally can! For just 10 shekels, you can sample three different sweets -- no need for commitment.
No visit to the land of milk and honey is complete without a special pilgrimage to Cafelix where you can experience the milk (swirling through your latte) and the honey (drizzled on your pastry) firsthand. If Moses were alive today, we all know where he'd take his afternoon coffee break.