The Best Cafes in Europe. Europe without caf. And as any European worth his beans will attest, the perfect caf. It's a chance to put your nose in the foam of the city, exchange hot gossip, and stir yourself up with the richly roasted textures of the past. Here's our pick of Europe's quintessential coffee haunts — from grandiose landmarks that nurtured popes and poets to Baroque drawing rooms and swank bo. Trail the camera- toting crowds prowling Boulevard St.- Germain and you'll end up at Caf.
Esperanza Aguirre, Madrid. 164,406 likes · 284 talking about this. Ayer visitamos con Esperanza Aguirre el famoso y centenario Café Comercial de Madrid. El patio central y la azotea terraza con vistas a Madrid. Wifi por todos lados, mesas grandes, biblioteca pública. CAFÉ COMERCIAL Más mítico, imposible. The Best Cafes in Europe. Café Comercial 7 Glorieta de Bilbao; 34-91/521-5655. The chichi Café Gijón may be more revered by the Spanish literati. Cafés with charm Madrid's most inviting and cosy cafés are just the place for that warm pick-me-up only a perfectly brewed cup of coffee or a nice cup of tea can give. Best Cafés in Madrid, Community of Madrid: Find TripAdvisor traveler reviews of Madrid Cafés and search by price, location, and more.
Follow a savvy local's advice and you'll find yourself at La Palette, a Gitane- stained institution that's straight off the back lot but seems just as vital today as it did when Braque and Picasso sauntered in for a glass of absinthe. The waiters, like the onglet (hanger steak), are crusty on the surface but tender inside, and the clientele convincingly creative—mostly dealers and aspiring artistes from the nearby . The vest- pocket- sized Belle . Relic lovers, take note: the . Paris, 1. 98. 4: brothers Jean- Louis and Gilbert Costes opened the Philippe Starck- designed Caf. Best of all is Caf. Pei's pyramid. You, too, can feel fabulous lounging in a swank burgundy velveteen chair with a tomato- and- ch.
Los 130 años de historia del Café Comercial seguirán aumentando. WiFi y un trato amabilísimo. Starbucks Partners. Starbucks Shared Planet.
So fabulous you'll forget all about your appointment with Mona. Hanging out at Marly, ignoring the Louvre—how parisienne. AMSTERDAMDe Jaren.
Nieuwe Doelenstraat; 3. A glassed- in oasis of sleek modernity sandwiched between some of the city's most florid fa. In summer, the whole town crams onto its two terraces overhanging the Amstel River; the mood is a lot more languid in winter, when modern- day Dutch genre scenes unfold quietly inside.
Here, fueled by reassuringly ordinary latte and bowls of fragrant Thai chicken soup, habitu. Go figure: Amsterdam's .
Here's another conundrum: Why is the Caf. But for serious pub- crawlers, a late- night tipple on Caf.
Go on, order kopstoot (a shot of Dutch gin accompanied by a beer), and slurp the gin down, as you should, without touching the rim of the tulip- shaped glass. You'll be grateful for that pilsner chaser.
ROMECaff. Okay, so you might get a better espresso at Tazza d'Oro, and the coffee granita at Caff. Still, who can roll down the Spanish Steps without falling into the drawing- room splendor of Caff. Instead make your way to the catacomb of small salons in the back, settle into a crimson banquette, and spend an eternity scribbling postcards—just as Keats or Stendhal might have done. Was it Giorgio De Chirico who suggested that Caff.
Known more for its pricey cocktails than for its impeccable espresso, Caff. Lacking anything cutting- edge—Rome is just a big village—the city's jeunesse dor. You want a scene from La Dolce Vita restaged for 2. Come here on a Saturday night, claim a marble- topped table set against the vine- strewn fa. Or thread your way through a grove of immaculate bodies to the antique bar, where Vespa boys stand ready to light cigarettes for chignoned Scandinavian bombshells. It's voluptuous decadence all around.
Marcello, where are you? VIENNACaf. The challenge of choosing among Vienna's historic caf. Hawelka's sweet buns still inspire the city's bohemians; Frauenhuber is an irresistible Biedermeier confection; and you'll find the best Sacher torte at, well, the Sacher. But we give our nod to the majestic Central. Think polychrome neo- Venetian vaulting supported by a forest of sandstone columns, a Rolls- Royce of dessert carts, and a lineup of international newspapers to rival a Swiss hotel's.
And your Apfelstrudel will taste that much sweeter when you think that this is where Freud pondered, Schnitzler pined, and Trotsky plotted. Caf. Leave it to the enemy of the straight line, that wacky Viennese artist and architect Friedensreich Hundertwasser (who died in March), to dream up a canteen for his own museum that feels like an extravagant nursery plunked into some tubular Legoland. Everywhere you look, flowers and plants—lavish rose centerpieces, sunflowers on tables—testify to Hundertwasser's obsession with all things organic.
But hey, why complain when the wurst is juicy, the potato soup rich and creamy, and the cheese strudel arrives in a lake of sublime vanilla sauce? MADRIDCaf. The chichi Caf.
Opened in 1. 88. 7 for merchants who came in for the trade fairs—hence the name—the Comercial became a gathering point in the 1. Franco partisans. Today it's the sort of place where academic types procrastinate in cracked leather chairs, dunking churros (fried crullers) into cups of frothy and dense chocolate; where the smart set rendezvous for ca. In other words, an iconic Madrile. So you're dedicating the day to the arts. Need a strategic place to refuel between the van Goghs at the Thyssen and the Goyas at the Real Academia de Bellas Artes? Head for La Pecera (.
That's what insiders call the caf. At lunchtime, La Pecera's hearty cocido (a Spanish stew) lures Prada- toting se.
In the evenings the art crowd raids the bar for fresh and tasty tapas and La Pecera's signature rum cocktails. Not that party- crashing isn't a favorite sport in Madrid. BERLINEinstein 5. Kurf. On a leafy residential street in the Tiergarten district, this classic Jugendstil mansion had been a silent- screen star's home, a posh bordello, and an army club—no, not simultaneously. It's probably happiest in its latest incarnation as the grand ballroom of coffeehouses, vaguely Viennese but with that unmistakable, world- weary Berlin veneer. It's 1. 1 p. m.: politicians claim the white- clothed tables set for a supper of oysters and cold Tafelspitz (boiled beef); illicit lovers guzzle Sekt in the romantic, lantern- lit garden; exhausted French horn players, cheeks sagging after an evening of Mahler, prop themselves up against the worn brown banquettes to coddle cups of superb Melange. Edgy, chaotic Berlin seems a distant memory.
Zucca 1. 1- 1. 2 am Zwiangraben; 4. Ah, the new East Berlin. So desolate and yet so alive. Here are the dour socialist apartment blocks, there an unfinished glass- and- brick extravaganza. Right in the middle of it all is Zucca, a caf. The jung and the hip are all here, lured by Zucca's sternly mod design (sponged gray walls, black- lacquer trim), the credible focaccias and Mediterranean salads, and an enticing list of coffees and wines.
Judging from the size of the patrons' nose rings—tiny—you might conclude that Berlin's counterculture is on its last gasp.