KB Café – Paris

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One of the great Parisian pleasures is undoubtedly killing time on a “terrace” (on the sidewalk tables) of a cafe. At first I was impressed by the amount of unoccupied people I saw, always with the chairs facing the street (never with my back!), With their computers, cigarettes and their double espressos. In fact, everything is just a real wall of fashion firing, disguised as “dolce far niente”.
Yes, friends, there are well-known cafes in Paris, despite what tourists say. And here, I would like to make an important parenthesis. There are two “Paris”: that of tourists and that of Parisians. That of tourists is magical, brilliant, golden, poetic, but full of traps. I have the impression that tourists will never be able to enjoy the little bistros hidden in more distant neighborhoods of the impressive Opéra and the inevitable Louvre. A pity, because kindness and attentive service is not part of the vocabulary of these people. And above all, the restaurants “indicated” in their guides always end up being traditional ones. So far, so good … since we are in France, we will eat your brioche, right? But what bothers me is that these restaurants have been serving frozen food at exorbitant prices and a more acidic coffee than party caipirinha.
Parisians’ Paris is chaotic, aggressive and extremely exclusive. After two years living in that capital, I finally start to be part of this complex VIP club, which is Parisian (they only respect you when you learn to scream in the same tone as “it’s your mother”!). And little by little, they are revealing their secret addresses to me. One of my favorite discoveries is a small cafe called KB Café, and is in the region now known as “Sud Pigalle”. For those who do not know Paris, Pigalle is the region of brothels, sex shops and many, but many weird people. However, for some years now the region has undergone a revitalization, with the opening of bars, cafes, restaurants, shops, etc., more modern. Let’s say that it is almost the same thing that happens in the Rua Augusta region in São Paulo.
And it is in the midst of all this chaos, in the new bourgeois Rue des Martyrs, that the Kooka Boora Café was presented to me, or for the intimate, the KB. I loved it right away, because it made me think of a song by John Vanderslice that is called “KookaBurra” and that I keep humming by myself. And second, because when I entered the cafe, I received, instead of the usual looks of contempt and Parisian indifference, smiles and “bonjours” from the baristas. My heart (and wallet) was already theirs. The owner of the place is a Frenchman (surprise surprise!) Who lived in Australia (aaaaahhhh it’s explained …) and learned how to be kind, to get a decent coffee, no, wait … he learned the art of enjoying and serving good coffee when he worked as a barista in Sydney.
The result is a relaxed atmosphere, with a face of co-working, with many sofas and tables full of sockets for Parisians to turn on their computers while studying / working tasting a latte, or the good old man, COFFEE WITH MILK, in a large glass of glass (there is a lot of love …), with that perfect dense foam and always a beautiful little heart decorating.
You can sit inside the cafe, which has a glass window, a showcase, say, that won’t let you focus on your work to draw attention to all the curious and stylish types that pass on this street in the 9ème neighborhood. Not to mention ambient music, I’m always crazy about Shazam on the phone wanting their entire playlist. But when the sun rises in that gray capital, it is the “terrace” that is disputed. Parisian beach!
To accompany, I am very happy to need that everything that is served on site is done on site. Or as they say “fait maison” here and that makes all the difference (yeah… I think it’s been a long time since I’ve been here and I’m starting to lose reference). Sandwiches, salads, soups (in winter), cookies and cookies. My favorite, and it makes my heart soften with longing for my Brazil, is the banana cake. Okay, I was transported back to São Paulo, imagining myself sitting in some cafe or pub on Rua Augusta, having a latte, eating a banana cake while complaining about the governor, the water rationing, the traffic…
But well, back to Paris with my “bonjours”, “mercis”, “pardons” and malnutritions in French… and here is the invitation to meet me at KB if you want more anecdotes from the city of light, accompanied by a coffee that honors its beauty and complexity.
KB Café is at:
53 Avenue Trudaine, corner of Rue des Martyrs, 75009
Metro Pigalle or Anvers
To cheer, the John Vanderslice song:

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