Brewing Nostalgia: Coffee, Memories, and a Bicycle Business Possibility

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Let’s take a trip back to New York City in the early ‘90s—a time before Starbucks became a household name, when coffee culture was defined by corner delis, diners, and the iconic blue-and-white “We Are Happy to Serve You” and "World's Best Cup of Coffee" cups. For me, this was a time of survival, discovery, and a growing love for everything adults loved that weren't really on the radar for kids my age, one being coffee, which would stay with me for life. At just 16, I was navigating life in New York, “homeless” in the technical sense but never without a sense of purpose. Coffee became one of my lifelines, at least during the day—a source of warmth, comfort, and energy during those cold days of swinging from payphone to client.

Back in 1992-1993, during my time in New York, Starbucks had yet to leave its mark on the city. The first location wouldn't arrive until 1994, so New Yorkers turned to a rich tapestry of local spots to get their caffeine fix. One standout was Tiffany Restaurant—a classic diner known for its hearty meals and strong, straightforward coffee. Like many iconic establishments, Tiffany Restaurant has since closed its doors, leaving behind only fond memories of its warm, no-frills atmosphere. Ordering coffee there was simple: you’d get a few packets of sweeteners to choose from—usually sugar, Equal, or Sweet'N Low—and two or three small containers of half-and-half. It wasn’t fancy, but it hit the spot, and you left content with what you got. Another gem was The Coffee Shop near Union Square. Erik, a friend and sort of boyfriend I met during my time in the city, introduced me to this spot, claiming it had the best coffee around. While the coffee was a bit strong for my taste, a more than generous splash of half-and-half and a heap of sugar transformed it into a sweet reminder of my childhood, sneaking sips of my parents’ Folgers or Piggly Wiggly brand coffee.

For those on the go, corner delis and bodegas were the unsung heroes of NYC’s coffee scene. Often run by hardworking immigrant families, these spots offered quick, affordable cups of coffee in those iconic blue-and-white cups. There were also an incredible amount of Dunkin Donuts locations that offered, not only a place for random homeless people to camp and hope they flew under employee radar but also served what's one of my favorite cups of coffee to this day. And let’s not forget, for those of us who made their way out of the city and into New Jersey, the ubiquitous 7-Eleven, where a big cup of coffee cost just 79 cents. Sure, it was often old and bitter, but it got the job done.

During those days, I sometimes dreamed of starting my own portable coffee shop—a business built onto a bicycle. Imagine pedaling through the streets of New York, serving up steaming cups of coffee to the masses, just like a hot dog vendor. I swear if I used Folgers, Chock Full o’Nuts, Maxwell House, or even A&P-branded coffee, none of the customers would have known. My idea was simple: offer coffee just a few cents cheaper than the corner stores and restaurants, making it accessible to everyone.
Had I had the resources to build something like that and the mindset to step away from the easy money of hustling, I might have turned that dream into reality. Even now, the idea of a bicycle coffee shop feels like a fun, practical business—something I could see myself doing in retirement, perhaps after a knee replacement or two. It could be a way to stay active, connect with people, and share the joy of coffee, one cup at a time.

Coffee wasn’t just a drink during those days; it was a symbol of comfort for me. Whether it was a strong cup from a diner, a quick fix from a corner deli, or a bitter brew from 7-Eleven, each cup carried a sense of normalcy and warmth that I desperately needed. Even now, the smell of fresh-brewed coffee takes me back to those days when I would walk the streets of New York—a time of survival, discovery, and that odd dream of a caffeinated future.

Coffee has a way of weaving itself into our lives, doesn’t it? It’s more than just a drink; it’s a source of comfort, a ritual, and sometimes even a dream. I’d love to hear your coffee stories. Do you have a favorite café or a special memory tied to a cup of coffee? Let’s chat in the comments—I’m all ears (or should I say, all beans?). And hey, if this story resonated with you and you’d like to support more content like this, your kindness would mean the world to me. Here’s to more coffee, more stories, and more dreams. ☕💜



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