Dalston coffee shop is likely the smallest coffee shop in Barcelona. I can spread my arms out wide and touch both walls. At least I think I can. I haven’t tried because I’ve never been in there alone long enough to try.
Across from the Faculty of Philosophy at the University of Barcelona, the diminutive shop has a steady stream of customers. Some of them come in with their own cup and have 0.15€ knocked off the price of their coffee. It’s just one barista, who is also the owner, his coffee and a good selection of large cookies from La Donutería up in Sant Antoni.
There are often amusing drawings on the wall that use coffee stains as a starting point for a narrative.
If I can manage it, I always order my coffee to have in. There is something agreeable about being in such a small space. Contemplating every new customer that comes in, because it is impossible to do otherwise.
The coffee is exceedingly good. The ratio of coffee to milk, the froth. As I stare into my empty cup I feel a subtle but strong swell in my energy levels as the caffeine enters my bloodstream. The edges of the world crisp up and I am buoyed up to sail energetically through the rest of my day.