Friedman's

Friedman's keeps things simple: an unpretentious cafe in New York, open for the regulars and the first-timers alike. There is a quiet steadiness to the place, the sense of a room that knows exactly what it is for. The appeal is not complicated: a drink made with some care, somewhere you can stand still for a few minutes. Across the United States, places like this form the everyday backbone of how people take their coffee.

What it lacks in polish it tends to make up for in character, which is what keeps regulars coming back. Drinks are made to be enjoyed rather than photographed, though there is no rule against both. It is the kind of place where you can sit a while, and nobody rushes you toward the door.

In New York, Friedman's is the kind of stop that makes more sense the closer you already are. Where it sits says a lot about who drops in: commuters, regulars, and the occasional wanderer. Either way, it is an easy one to find and a fair one to seek out. What lingers about spots like this is rarely one drink so much as the run of ordinary good ones. The coffee stops that last tend to be the ones you stop thinking about and just use, and this reads like one of them.