Paris on the Platte, Highlands

The drizzly night, ushering in a wet spring snow, begged for the warmth of a cozy coffee shop.  Paris on the Platte, in the Denver Highlands, was just the sort of place I was looking for.  The darkness outside was forgotten in the artsy atmosphere.


The barista suggested The Fantasia, because, “It’s an experience, and its pretty.”  It was described on the menu as having a double shot of espresso, a slice of orange, and steamed milk, layered and topped with whipped cream.  

I took my first sip through the tiny straw, and could not hide my disgust.  It was pure coffee in all of its strong, unadulterated flavor.  Sarah, my good friend and dinner companion, said, “Are you supposed to stir it up?  Cause there’s an orange in there.”  I couldn’t help but laugh out loud.  Of course I knew you were supposed to stir it, but I was trying to get the full effect of the coffee before mixing all of the flavors together.  I stuck my straw through the orange dividing the layers, and sipped at the steamed milk.  It tasted like steamed milk.  Wonder of wonders.  Once more, I tasted the espresso by itself.  It was nasty.  It grabbed my tongue, twisted it backwards, and sent my taste buds to purgatory.  I was speechless, not because I didn’t have plenty about which to protest, but because my face was so contorted.  Finally, I mixed the layers together, stirring thoroughly, and gave it another try.  Sarah remarked how it reminded her of a chocolate orange, and that she could hardly taste the coffee at all.  I could still taste the coffee, and I didn’t like it, but the overall flavor was of orange-tinged hot chocolate.  Many have told me that it is not the coffee that they like, but what you put into the coffee.  I suppose if that’s what I was going for, this would have been the perfect drink.  That’s not what I was going for.  If I wanted hot chocolate, I would have ordered hot chocolate.  


I began to feel very guilty for my overwhelming dislike.  It wasn’t fair to Paris on the Platte, to my experience, or to those who would read about my experience to be so very negative.  With every sip, Sarah would ask, “better?” And I wanted very much to be able to say yes.  I was not trying hard enough.  I focused on the taste of the coffee, and tried to see if there were any undertones or nuances I had missed.  I couldn’t find any.

Finally, I went to the counter and talked to Nick, a Paris on the Platte employee.  He said that the beans come from somewhere in South America.  The suppliers recently changed, because the price of coffee has gone up.  The beans are then roasted in house, on a very cool-looking roasting machine, displayed prominently in the café.  

The supply stock has to be replenished every one to two weeks, so the coffee is always fresh.  There are two roasts used at the café, the Vienna Roast – for brewed coffee, and the French Roast – for the mixed drinks.  Nick wasn’t able to tell me anything more about the origin of the beans or the flavors associated with them.  He asked if I liked the Fantasia, and I honestly told him that I didn’t, but that I don’t really like coffee.  He suggested that I try the Mexicano - a latte with a thick layer of foam and cinnamon sugar caramelized on top.  While he was describing it, a customer commented, “the Mexicano?  That’s the one.  I’ve been drinking that one for about 20 years.”  Eager to give coffee another chance, I ordered it. 

It smelled so good when it arrived, steaming, to our table.  I absolutely love cinnamon sugar.  The aroma brings back all kinds of dreamy childhood memories.  I didn’t want to drink it for fear that the spell would be broken, and I would be disappointed.  It was actually quite a bit better than the first drink, in my opinion, but it still had the same coffee taste.  Even the foam and cinnamon could not disguise it.  It made me think of a bunch of old guys smoking in a musty library. 

I put on a brave face for Sarah’s benefit – she obviously wanted me to find something I enjoyed.  I told her that I had really tried hard to like the coffee, to which she responded by mimicking the face I had made when I first tasted the Fantasia.  It looked a bit like an anorexic lizard choking on a bit of rancid limburger cheese.  Ha ha ha!  Maybe I wasn’t trying as hard as I thought. 

I think it would help to know what flavors I am looking for in the coffee, so that I know what I am trying to appreciate.  When I get the chance to taste new coffee blends with a true coffee connoisseur, I understand the depth of the flavor and concentrate on every delicate nuance.  I harbor no dislike for Paris on the Platte.  It’s a great place, and I will definitely go back.  I would highly recommend it for those who enjoy coffee.  I’m not deterred… looking forward to my next coffee opportunity!


http://www.parisontheplattecafeandbar.com