16 — Wednesday, N
The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
statement

I don’t consider myself a religious per-

son, but I had the closest thing to a spiritual 
awakening when I first climbed up the olive 
steps leading to South Fourth Avenue’s most 
charming hideaway — a place with tingling 
espresso aromas, walls adorned with matcha-
colored greenery and a heavenly soundtrack 
of scholarly chatter and prickly indie tunes: 
Literati Coffee. It was my first semester of 
college, and per a self-made tradition, I had 
set aside every Wednesday afternoon before 
my Women’s Studies lecture to explore the 
abundance of coffee shops Ann Arbor had to 
offer. 

Every Wednesday, one shop at a time. 

This week’s pick was a fancy-sounding place 
called Literati Coffee, tucked just above its 
sister storefront, Literati Bookstore.

I reached the top of the bookstore’s worn 

steps, only to turn the corner and discover a 
strikingly peaceful corner of campus I never 
even knew existed. The experience felt tran-
scendent: I had crossed the threshold from a 
university town buzzing in the excitement of 
changing fall colors and an anticipated foot-
ball season to the serene nirvana found just 
above Literati Bookstore. And so, I entered, 
perhaps floating a foot off the ground all the 
while.

True Literati enthusiasts will tell you that 

securing a window seat is a challenging yet 
noble task. The general makeup of the cof-
feehouse’s customer base consists of astute-
looking millennials and pensive bibliophiles. 
So, inching your way to one of the store’s 
treasured window-hugging tables means 
shuffling through a sea of wool coats, plaid-
patterned winter wear and finicky ceramic 
espresso cups. Yet, I suppose my spiritual 
awakening had ushered in a kind of seren-
dipity, and so, upon crossing the divide from 
University-haze to Literati-nirvana, I had a 
glistening window seat waiting just for me.

With an iced, almond-milk latte — my go-

to order, sitting contently next to my Spanish 
coursebook — I was convinced I had found 
my own little slice of happiness on campus. 
I spent the afternoon catching up on class-
work and humming along to my favorite 
playlist, blissfully content with the lingering 
taste of espresso that rested on my tongue.

Later in the afternoon, as if planted by a 

divine spirit or maybe even a romantic movie 
producer, a young man walking on the street 
below caught my eye contact and waved. I 
couldn’t help but feel elated by that small ex-
change — it was the purest little demonstra-
tion of love I had experienced since moving 
to Ann Arbor earlier that fall. 

During my freshman year, leading up to 

and after my Literati discovery, I approached 
my coffeehouse crawl with a particular zeal. 
With weeks of scouting out Ann Arbor’s 
best coffee joints, starting with the ever-
convenient Espresso Royale then venturing 
to other shops sprinkled across downtown, I 
quickly discovered that my quest was about 
something more than coffee. It was in these 

varied spaces that I had some of my best 
hustled study sessions, feverishly outlining 
my next Spanish paper or studying for an 
upcoming statistics exam. More important-
ly, these spaces also allowed me to engage 
in mindful experiences: a lovely interaction 
with a friendly barista, spending a few min-
utes gazing at the colorful patrons passing in 
and out, or even sneaking pictures of the art 
that kissed the walls. 

In this way, I think coffeehouses occupy 

a truly unique purpose somewhere between 
the frigid atmosphere of University academ-
ic buildings and the commercial craze of Ann 
Arbor’s retail and dining scene. These shops 
serve as a safe haven away from the busied 
streets of campus, offering a sacred kind of 
anonymity I began to really cherish. As a Res-
idential College student part of intertwined 
living and academic communities, it became 
difficult to draw the boundary between work 
and play within East Quad Residence Hall, 
where the RC is housed. So, when I started to 
venture beyond East University Avenue and 
explore coffeehouses all across town, this 
ritual became my time to decompress and 
observe the culture of the city beyond my RC 
bubble.

Ultimately, one of the coffeehouse’s most 

impressive assets is its versatility. While I 
might frequent these shops to indulge my 
reclusive romantics, they also serve as a hub 
for social gathering and even political discus-
sion. This beloved “coffeehouse culture,” ac-
tually dates back to the 16th century, when 
Oxford academics would gather in coffee-
houses — hotly referred to as “Penny Univer-
sities” — and partake in the elitist, scholarly 
conversations. 

London’s coffeehouse culture continued 

to grow in popularity into the 18th century 
as Londoners sought leisurely conversation, 
political debate and networking amid their 
stuffy work lives. With the distribution of 
newspapers becoming more widespread in 
the city, coffeehouses were soon positioned 
as hubs of printed news and up-in-coming 
intelligence. In 1675, King Charles II went as 
far as proclaiming the shutdown of all coffee-
houses, stating they “produced very evil and 
dangerous effects,” and were a “disturbance 
of the peace and quiet realm.” However, his 
outcry proved ineffective: The people con-
tinued to gather, drink coffee and indulge in 
an café-bred sense of authenticity. 

And they continue to gather today, just 

with more laptops and less top hats involved.

U-M students have utilized the city’s of-

fering of coffeehouses in a myriad of ways, 
christening the coffeehouse space as a kind 
of library turned living room turned campus 
hub. LSA sophomore Nicole (Nori) Pham 
frequented the late Espresso Royale on 
South University Avenue for all sorts of rea-
sons, from studying to drinks with friends to 
networking. I sat down with the fellow cof-
fee lover (via virtual call) to discuss all things 
Ann Arbor coffee, wanting to hear how she 

chose to utilize these spaces. 

“I always went to the South U (Espres-

so Royale) because I love the atmosphere 
there,” Pham said. “There was a basement, 
(and) I would just sort of sit there in between 
my Bio class and my Physics class. … I would 
spend almost every day there.” 

Pham even became a regular with the 

baristas, which eventually earned her “large 
(drinks) even when I ordered a small. They 
were just super friendly.” 

As a pre-Med student, Pham also valued 

the way Espresso Royale offered a space for 
professional pursuits. 

“I would always set up interviews and 

stuff at Espresso Royale,” she said. “It was 
just a very convenient location to have, 
(where you could) have fun with friends, or 
study, but also have that professional side 
where you could connect and network with 
other members of the Michigan community.” 

Other coffeehouses, like Literati, can serve 

a different niche for students who, like me, 
are a sucker for the romantic nature of the 
space. Public Policy senior Miriam Chung, 
another member of the unofficial official Li-
terati fan club, told me about her passion for 
the shop. 

“I love the smell and touch of books,” 

Chung said. “Even though I wouldn’t buy 
them because I’m broke constantly, I would 
linger around the store and pick up books, 
read the first few pages, move on, repeat.”

She reminisced on the same, divine Lite-

rati bookstore-to-coffeehouse threshold that 
I once crossed as a freshman. 

“What (I) mainly miss about it, it’s that 

the most interesting people used to come 
into Literati — people watching provided a 
fantastic break from studying,” Chung said. 
“I loved how people from all ends of the 
spectrum of interests and book tastes would 
congregate together in that packed, teeny 
upstairs space.”

From the sleek, scholarly tables of Lite-

rati Coffee to the endearingly worn booths 
of Espresso Royale, University students are 
finding their own corners of solitude or hap-
piness or community. And with this great 
variety of espresso-centered environments 
comes a need to differentiate between all 
that Ann Arbor “coffeehouse culture” has 
to offer: Are you team Literati? Espresso 
Royale? Vertex Coffee Roasters? RoosRoast? 
Lab? Sweetwaters? 

As a freshman, I made the bold attempt 

to differentiate between all these spaces 
through a ranking built on the following cri-
teria: the quality of their iced, almond-milk 
latte (my signature drink), the strength of 
their Wi-Fi and the amount and type of seat-
ing offered.

After extensive on-site study and cof-

feehouse scouting, I collected the following 
data: The Espresso Royale on South Uni-
versity had pretty average Wi-Fi but great 
seating if you could snag a booth upstairs. 
Comparatively, the Espresso Royale on State 

Street had an extremely finicky Wi-Fi signal 
but a plentiful offering of cushy booths, ta-
bles, and couches. Lab had minimal seating 
but is often championed as the best coffee on 
campus (personally, their roast is too strong 
for me).

Alas, with its insanely tasty lattes, reliable 

Wi-Fi signal, and overall serene atmosphere, 
I ultimately decided on Literati Coffee as the 
supreme coffeehouse on campus, and have 
been a proud member of team Literati ever 
since. 

Perhaps via less formalized ranking sys-

tems, other students have secured their “go-
to” spots as well. Engineering sophomore 
Paul Balko has been frequenting Lab since he 
first visited on his tour of campus. Now, he 
says, “Lab is my favorite just because of the 
atmosphere and their big selection of fun, 
different lattes and house-made syrups.”

He, too, said he has has been able to dif-

ferentiate between campus coffeehouses in 
ways that are, perhaps, more practical than 
mine. “To blatantly compare (Lab) to Espres-
so Royale, I think the coffee is higher quality. 
I never really liked Espresso Royale. My first 
impression of it was that the name was really 
bad.” 

Whether the name was bad or not, the 

signature, yellow “Espresso Royale” slogans 
still remain emblazoned on their storefronts, 
like sad fossils from a pre-pandemic campus. 
And other coffee joints including Literati 
have joined Espresso Royale in a similarly 
tragic fate, closing their doors to adhere to 
Washtenaw County COVID-19 regulations. 
To coffeehouse enthusiasts or many U-M 
students, this news means a lot more than 
just grappling with a world where one can’t 
purchase an over-priced latte every day.

For students like Balko, closed coffee-

houses means, “the loss of a convenient and 
multi-functional space.” And for Nori Pham, 
a boarded-up Espresso Royale means termi-
nating an opportunity she once always had to 
decompress between classes and exchange 
niceties with friendly baristas. Ultimately, 
during a semester where students are already 
feeling the edge of virtual learning and strug-
gling to stay motivated, the loss of the coffee-
house feels like another harsh blow against 
a version of college some of us already had 
a taste of.

As cheesy as it may sound, just searching 

for pictures of Literati Coffee’s interior to 
inform this article elicited a dull pang in my 
heart. I see these images and can almost feel 
like I’m there again climbing a flight of stairs 
toward a tucked-away nirvana as if Literati 
was placed there just for me — a wandering 
freshman from Indiana struggling to become 
acclimated in a new city on a new campus. 

I know — or rather, I hope — that one day 

these spaces will be available once again, for 
other unknowing freshmen to discover and 
cherish and maybe even learn more about 
themselves in. Because, if done right, the cof-
feehouse crawl can be a truly magical thing. 

An ode to the 
coffeehouse crawl

BY GRACE TUCKER, STATEMENT COLUMNIST

ILLUSTRATION BY MAGGIE WEIBE

