Like a child born late in their parents’ lives, El Café demonstrates an overt appreciation for the classics with one foot firmly in the present. Swirling, central columns stand tall after being stripped of garish paint to reveal organic cement forms, while Spanish tiles warm the space with ashy blue and pink brushstrokes. Stained glass lightens dark window and door frames, while an array of minimalist chairs—blonde, mahogany, glossy white—give the space a hint of far-flung style. Most furnishings are from the Abbondati’s home, while a sampling of art is on loan from Ole Martin Lund Bø, a Havana-based Norwegian artist. El Café’s beans are a varied bunch. They pull from two of Cuba’s larger producers, Serrano and Cubita, which they blend themselves to keep consistency (a producer’s stock can disappear overnight for weeks). Often, they source from a roastery in Old Havana, El Escorial, but they do so mindfully. “The story goes that there is just one (older) employee who really knows how to roast coffee, but that he sometimes falls asleep on the job and burns the beans!” says Marinella. Luckily, Cubans like their coffee black.
