New Yorkers run on caffeine, and the metropolis offers countless options for residents of the city that never sleeps to get their fix. Downtown’s Financial District is no exception to this rule. Specialty coffee shops dot the neighborhood, and with a small cup of coffee averaging around $5.00, it's important to choose wisely.

There’s Black Fox Coffee at the 70 Pine building, as well as Suited on John Street. Though these mainstays craft expert cups of coffee and meticulous global fare, these spaces are missing the unpretentious, community-focused energy that defines coffeehouse life. Enter 787 Coffee on Pearl Street, a creative, mission-driven coffee outpost making its mark by going against the tide of capitalism and globalization in a neighborhood representing global wealth and power.

Situated a stone’s throw from the New York Stock Exchange, 787 Coffee offers specialty farm-to-cup Puerto Rican coffee in a less stuffy space than other local shops. It's an inviting space for groups and those tethered to their laptops. Friendly, patient staff know their product and are quick to offer a brief education about the bean’s farm-to-cup journey. They’re attentive, bringing cups of water for anyone caffeinating without proper hydration. They often roam the room politely, snapping social media photos of patrons with their school bus yellow 787 Coffee cups. These small acts help cultivate the “for human, by human approach” to coffee that 787 Coffee Roasters strives for.

The space is littered with plants, Puerto Rican flags, and cartoon artwork, as well as cheeky neon signs that give 787 Coffee a homey vibe—a stark contrast to the meticulously curated global minimalist aesthetic of other cafes nearby. Towards the back of the shop, a set of TV screens features footage of Hacienda Illuminada, the farm where the coffee beans are grown, and interviews with the farmers responsible for the beans. Though millions of New Yorkers drink coffee daily, few can see the faces and hands of those who produce this precious commodity.

The menu offerings also differentiate 787 Coffee from other shops in the area. When ordering a beverage, patrons can choose between alcohol-infused beans or a classic medium roast. The rum-flavored espresso bean, with cinnamon, nutmeg, and dark chocolate notes, is especially comforting on a cold winter day. Their specialty drinks tie back to the beans' Puerto Rican origins by offering Latin American flavors–such as coquito, horchata, dulce de leche, and tres leches. The adventurous home barista can also purchase these syrups for personal use. Grab-and-go snacks include the predictable cookies, banana bread, gluten-free and vegan options, as well as in-house baked empanadas, quesitos, and sweet bread with coquito frosting, the latter of which was, unfortunately, a bit dry.

Traceability, sustainability for people and the planet, and education are at the heart of what 787 Coffee Roasters stands for. The cafe’s New York founders, Brandon Pena and Sam Sepulveda, control the coffee production process. In 2014, they purchased an abandoned coffee farm in the mountains of Maricao, one of the poorest regions of Puerto Rico, with the vision of revitalizing coffee agriculture on the island while also providing a living wage to farmers. The concept has taken off, and 787 Coffee now operates 35 locations across three states and on the island of Puerto Rico.

We hope 787 Coffee’s Pearl Street location continues to be successful. It's nice to know that these particular Wall Street dollars are doing some good in the world. Long live the changemakers, the creatives, the dreamers, and the caffeinated New Yorkers.

787 Coffee
66 Pearl St, New York, NY 10004
Website

It was barely noon, and I was bathing in little beads of sweat as I entered the cramped dining room of Las Juquileñas. After a week in Puerto Escondido, a coastal surf town in the Mexican state of Oaxaca, I began to accept that sun, heat, and heavy air were simply a way of life here. If it wasn’t the humid salty sea air it was the smoke from the open-fire cooking in restaurant kitchens around the city affecting my physical comfort. There was no escape, so the best course was a welcome embrace. Besides, after years of Covid lockdowns, I was thrilled to be out and exposed to the world of travel. To connect with humans after living behind masks and plexiglass dividers.

My husband and I ventured to Las Juquileñas for local Oaxacan fare. The restaurant was in the central commercial district of the city, close to Mercado Benito Juárez, the main open-air market where farmers from the countryside sell their produce and local city dwellers go about daily life. Stepping inside Las Juquileñas was like traveling back to 2019. Rows of communal mess hall-style tables filled the room. Friends and families sat on bright wooden chairs underneath the colorful papel picado that hung from the ceiling–their combined vibrancy starkly contrasted with the drab gray cement walls. Towards the back of the building, a performer armed with a guitar and a mic serenaded diners with acoustic Mexican folk songs. No plexiglass in sight. A few months ago, I would have designated this environment a superspreader hazard zone. Clearly, I was still adjusting.

The hostess escorted us past the smoky open kitchen, where masked cooks in hair nets zipped around, attending to handmade masa memelas toasting on the wood-fired comal and plump Roma tomatoes on the charcoal grill. Alongside the charred tomatoes, I spotted a tlayuda grilling underneath a flat round stone. This colossal cousin of the quesadilla was the reason for our trip to Las Juquileñas.

We sat towards the restaurant's center and looked over the wooden menu, eager to order a cheese, bean, and squash blossom-filled tlayuda. Still uneasy, my eyes wandered around the room as we waited for our waitress to return. I locked eyes with the older couple sitting by our side, silently enjoying a coffee and dipping small pieces of bread into their cups. The four of us smiled at each other, and I was grateful the social boundaries created by the pandemic had come down. I pointed at their bread and tried to ask in broken Spanish whether it was savory or sweet, but words failed me. Then, in an act that went against nearly every COVID protocol I’d been abiding by for the past two years, our tablemate broke off a piece of his bread and enthusiastically placed it in my hand.

I paused. Should I go against my instincts and taste this stranger’s bread? After years of sterilized human interaction, eating this gift felt like playing a game of Covid-Russian roulette. But then again, how could I reject this gesture of goodwill? This invitation back into the folds of human connection after years of social distancing and dining alone. I went against my COVID training and risked it all on what turned out to be a completely unremarkable piece of bread. And when I smiled back at our tablemates, I realized the risk was worth it. There was still a long way to go before the world would be back to pre-pandemic normal, but maybe breaking bread with strangers could help expedite the journey.

787 Coffee Injects a Bit of Creativity and Social Good into the FiDi Cafe Scene

Breaking Bread and Covid Rules with Strangers