One woman's odyssey through Knoxville's coffee house maze

by Adrienne Martini

Forgive me, Juan Valdez, I have sinned.

I have had upwards of three thousand cups since my last confession, most of it

strong and dark. I just can't stay away. It's my last real addiction, the one I chose because it is least likely to turn me into yet another poster-child for the evils of our modern age. Everything fun has become dangerous: Sex with strangers (or almost anyone) can kill, as can cigarettes, booze, and fatty foods, not to mention a whole host of highly illegal substances that are too taboo to even mention. And I've quit them all, more or less. Just, please, don't take my coffee. You're going to have to pry my last cup from my cold, yet still trembling, fingers.

But I promise that it will be good coffee. Why put up with all of the other things that come with this delightful brew, like jumpiness, lousy breath, and sleepless nights, if each and every cup is not an out-of-body experience? Why waste your time with instant Maxwell House or an on-the-run Styrofoam cup full of sludge from the local convenience mart when you can have the elixir of the gods for about the same cost? The problem, a nominal one to be sure, is that there is a mind-boggling array of options in the Knoxville coffee house scene. Every corner has a would-be java guru hanging out her shingle just waiting for the peppiness-impaired to come flooding in.

Good, dang good, coffee can be found in Knoxville, as well as the perfect places in which to hang out and consume it. It just takes a bit of searching through all of the would-be brew peddlers to find the perfect place.

For you, gentle reader, I have done this, sacrificing stomach lining and sleep to give you a guide to the bean scene. For the record, my paradigms for coffee houses are clear, yet strict: A cozy place where you can get more than a simple cup of joe, a sanctuary that has more than your basic biscotti available for apres-java munching, and that does not have a deep-fat fryer nor a hostess. Oh, and the coffee has to be to die for. Simple. This leaves out of contention all of the restaurants that serve coffee, all of the quickie-marts that always have a pot brewing on the back burner. And, as a warning, different coffee houses attract different crowds,

and my idea of a fine hole-in-the wall may not match yours. So chew on a chocolate-covered coffee bean and get over it.

I start with the corporate coffees, those that are easily accessible to middle America and the West Knox soccer moms. It seems that you can't open a bookstore nowadays without sticking a coffee house right in the middle of it. Granted, there is something highly pleasant about the book/coffee combo, and each sensuously highlights the other like a good wine and a good meal. Some Knoxville area bookstores are better at this than others, however.

Despite the fact that it is a fine bookstore, Barnes and Noble (8029 Kingston Pike) is a lousy place to get coffee. While the drinks themselves are wonderful, the atmosphere leaves one thinking of an operating theater, rather than a cozy place to discuss the ills of the world or to linger over the wonderful Starbucks coffees. The area is outfitted in metal chairs, metal tables, and harsh fluorescent lights that make even the healthiest drinker look like an addict six days out from her last fix.

Borders (202 Morrell), B&N's sister in spirit but not in tone, seems to have a much, much better idea how this whole thing should work. It's cozy and slightly lived in. Wood abounds, couches and comfy chairs are scattered about, and the lighting, while still fluorescent in theme, is much less harsh and direct. A swing/jazz mix always seems to be playing in the Borders' cafe, one which is not too loud for talk but does cover the conversations of your fellow drinkers. And the coffee itself is almost as good as the category-killer Starbucks and does not have that distinctive bitter undertaste that plagues that Northwestern brew.

Somewhere in between falls Joe Muggs, which is inside Books-a-Million (8513 Kingston Pike). Muggs offers some fairly interesting permutations on the same old coffee and the staff was friendlier than any I had encountered at similar establishments. Still, there was something that just wasn't quite right. Perhaps I have become too jaded by the slickness with which B&N or Borders run their businesses, controlling the atmosphere to a fine degree that the relative looseness of Books-a-Million and Joe Muggs was bothersome. Deep down, I may want my bookstore coffee to be a carefully corporately cultivated "funky" experience and Muggs' lack of funk just didn't meet my expectations. Or I've just gotten too confused by trying to mix both my reading jones and my caffeine jones. Or, maybe, I have simply had too many cups of java to really know anything anymore.

Onward into the fray I go, after a brief attempt at a decent night's sleep, I swing by one of my old standbys, Cosmo's Cafe, located in The Gourmet's Market (5107 Kingston Pike), for a jumbo cup of the good stuff that perks up my brain enough to stop my driving from being a traffic hazard. Cosmo's is a clean, well-lighted place that is not a bookstore cum coffee house but, instead, a kitchen/deli cum coffee house. Personally, I think this makes a much better combination. And Cosmo's has the best coffee, with its standard house brew that is a well-balanced yet full-bodied blend and with a rotating coffee option that comes from their stock. Also available are a flavored blend and a decaf option, for those who are into that sort of thing. Cosmo's has great pastries as well but does not have the best atmosphere for hanging about and lingering, unless you are only going to linger over the morning paper. Something about the white walls and over-all cleanliness that makes you just want to leap up and be productive.

You could just hop over to the other side of the street, something that I often do on my way to the Pulse each morning, and go to Java (5115 Homberg Place), located behind the Terrace theater. Java has all of the cluttered, cozy atmosphere that Cosmo's lacks. It's dark, generally quiet, and the perfect place to get a cup of joe and chit-chat about the great art film that you just saw. Plus, Java has some great desserts, from the Southern evergreen Red Velvet Cake to some more exotic sweets, like a Chocolate Italian Cream Cake. The biggest potential problem with Java is the crankiness of both the espresso machine and the staff. On my visits, no one there seemed to be having a particularly good day and the place had the undertone of impending chaos—which, in my opinion, is kind of exciting and appealing in its own way.

'Course, the upscale CC Coffee's (Western Plaza) also seems on the verge of explosion as well—but of a very different sort. Signs are everywhere in this tastefully decorated, Olde-English-themed shop, and each sign implores you not to do something. Don't pick up the pastries. Don't bus your own tables. Don't put dirty dishes here. It's a lot like having coffee at your mom's house, but only if your mother also gave you a completely average cup.

And speaking of average, Knoxville's beloved JFG (132 W. Jackson Ave) does deliver killer desserts but does not deliver a killer cup of coffee. Odd, considering that the roasting factory is right next door and simply fills the Old City air with the toast-like scent of beans achieving perfection. Still, the atmosphere at JFG is worth hanging around in, full of books, soft jazz, high ceilings, and a steady stream of clientele. Ideas seem to be percolating here, despite the fact that the brew is weak. Stick to an Italian soda—club soda with a flavored syrup—or an Italian steamer—steamed milk with, again, a flavored syrup and a nice muffin.

For my money, however, I would slip around the corner to 195 Degrees (109 1/2 Central Ave), despite the fact that it has an odd name. The coffee is excellent and the counter-staff knowledgeable. If they can't do it with coffee, it is either illegal or immoral. A unique cross-section of folks is always in attendance; one rainy afternoon both a woman in upwardly mobile business dress and a skate punk with mismatched tube socks and a KPD denim jacket were at adjoining tables. The food ranges from the ubiquitous snacks to more substantial and cheap sandwiches. Art flanks the walls along with a series of doors that lead, seemingly, to nowhere. 195 is a great place to people-watch, snack, drink fabulous coffee, and/or read for hours on end. One caveat, however: This place is always playing fairly loud music and, for some strange reason, the music is always Sade.

If the Old City holds little appeal for you, there is also the World's Fair Park/UT Strip coffee joints. 11th Street Expresso House (1016 Laurel Ave), the misspelling of which still irks me despite Jack Neely's repeated explanations of its origins, and Cup-a-Joe (1911 Cumberland) might be to your liking, though I didn't feel like I fit in. Both have fine coffee, both have knowledgeable baristas and yummy desserts. But both also cater to a very specific neighborhood crowd, a crowd that unintentionally makes you feel as if you are intruding on some private conversation that can easily be overheard from either 11th Street's comfy couches or Cup-a-Joe's close-set tables. At 11th Street, older bohemians hold forth about the nature of politics while calypso-influenced music fills the air but never quite drowns out their conversation. At Cup-a-Joe's, young gamers who look like Russian revolutionaries smoke Gauloises and play backgammon. And I do mean smoke. The place is constantly filled with a thick haze that bothered me, a (mostly) former smoker who is also (mostly) unbothered by the scent. Which is not to say that there is anything wrong with either place, just that they cater to a very distinct crowd.

And, while you are in the UT area, you can also hover around two other shops, each with its own unique and very different charm. The Golden Roast (825 Melrose Place) has a certain yuppie appeal, tastefully decorated and with a certain Kountry Krafts essence that was oddly comforting. Plus, there are plenty of little conversation nooks and old copies (is there anything else?) of National Geographic scattered about. But it struck me that this would be the perfect place to take my parents, if we happened to decide to stop someplace for a drink and a light nosh. I have to admit that The Daily Grind (1823 Cumberland) and I never managed to connect. Its hours, which seem tailored to a college-type late-night with no early mornings schedule, just did not jive with my strict regimen of coffee consumption. The atmosphere, however, is shabbily cozy, full of soft futons and art-lined walls that would be conducive to an afternoon full of studying.

Despite my one failure, I still sit, hands a-shakin' and stomach a-churnin' after having consumed far too much coffee—most of it good—in the last week as my search ground on. But, admittedly, it was worth it.