Tulsa Cafe Guide

When I found out that the annual SIETAR conference would be held in Tulsa, Oklahoma I almost didn’t go. Tulsa, as a place held no particular fascination for me, but once I made up my mind to go, I was determined to find something redeemable about this little city. Turns out, I didn’t have to look very hard. Tulsa was a happening place! I found over eight cafes I wanted to visit and I made it to six. 

In chronological order....

All About Cha

All About Cha. I had seen it from the windows of the shuttle and was impressed by both its size and aesthetic. Something about it reminds me of the cafes in Malaysia. Maybe it’s the spacious interior, or the views of the road from commanding glass windows, or the couch seating. I felt like a foreigner when I first entered. I ordered the goguma green tea latte, which is made from sweet potato and green tea. It was exactly what I wanted. Sweet potato that I have not had since Japan, and the hint of green tea gave it the warmest flavor. I also ate a Korean bento box with bulgogi. A couple western modifications to it included the iceberg lettuce salad, cantaloupe-grape-pineapple fruit pairings, and heresy chocolate.

The Phoenix

Here was another café I made it to in my first night in Tulsa. I liked the Phoenix for its totally different vibe.  The counter was cleverly made from old books. There were hand drawings on the wall. The menu was inconspicuously drawn on a side wall. I ordered a drink called “The Pearl” which was a shot of espresso with condensed milk. I had to stir it for a ling time to get it to mix, but once it did it was wonderful. I liked working at the Phoenix because the music was barely noticeable, and the table and chair were their proper height for one another.

Topeca

Topeca is probably the most famous coffee chain in Tulsa, but it was my least favorite. My lattes were unmemorable and nothing on the menu was unique or appealing. They used Monin syrup instead of homemade syrup, and I was generally not impressed by the atmosphere which felt a little to commercial.

Hodges's Bar

Hodges's is listed as a cafe, and truth be told they do serve coffee, but it's really more of a bar. I went there late on the night after the presidential election results were  announces to nurse my drunken stupor. I wanted to order coffee, but the bar atmosphere steered me towards alcohol. So I compromised - Russian Tea - basically tea with vodka. 

Coffee House on Cherry Street

My favorite café, and perhaps my favorite place to be in all of Tulsa. It wasn’t the ambiance or even the delicious Drunken Chimpunk latte I ordered (which is espresso, vanilla, milk, irish cream, and hazelnut). It’s the people. This is where the young and hip of Tulsa hang out. Finally I found them. I really liked the vibes at this café. The music was upbeat, none of the chairs match, everyone looks like they have something cool to do.

Foolish Things

This is the most Portland-esque of all cafes with a very industrial feel to the space just outside of downtown. I ordered a Fall Spice latte which was the perfect texture. The spice was also a festive blend of nutmeg, cinnamon, cardamom, and others.

Didn’t make it to:

Shades of Brown (too far from where I was staying in downtown)

Doubleshot (too tired to get up early that morning)

Alone in Middle America

Tulsa Airport

On Tuesday, November 8th I boarded a plane to Tulsa for a conference. It was election day, a tense time for America as our future president would be decided that evening. After years of campaigning and drama we would finally have closure. But on Tuesday night, I had no idea what the rest of that day and the days to follow would bring. 

This excerpt from my diary was written in my hotel room that evening. It was just before the electoral votes were counted. 

"Once the plane began descending into Tulsa I looked out the window and saw an ocean. Deep blue with frothy white waves. But we were in the middle of America, nowhere close to the sea. What I was looking at was a low-hanging layer of clouds. When we finally submerged ourselves in the clouds I could see nothing. We had entered into a snow glob. Finally a faint specs of light appeared in the distance, twinkling like fireflies in a displaced memory. The outlines of the city slowly came into view. Tulsa was drawing itself line by line until the lines became streets, houses, cars, buildings. Trees. It was twilight when we landed and the trees outside the airport shook at the weight of hundreds of black birds."

When the votes started appearing online, I turned my phone off and tried to sleep. After tossing and turning for a few hours, I turned my phone back on at midnight and learned the results of the election. I was stunned. Here was one of the most important moments in US history and I was alone in a hotel room in Tulsa, Oklahoma. No one could witness my tears. No one could talk to me. I opened Facebook and read post after post from terrified and depressed friends. I put out a cry for help. Some people answered. Their words didn't comfort me because no one was even capable of comforting themselves. I might have drifted to sleep around 4:00am. I left the curtain in my room open and when I awoke at 6:00am the sun was rising. A new day. The darkness of night always pressurized loneliness and depression, but usually the morning brings with it the literal and symbolic promise of a new beginning. 

Not this time.  

there was a ton of alcohol in this tea

Tulsa at dawn is calm, quiet, unassuming. It should have been a soothing view. But the world felt different. I felt betrayed. At the conference everyone seemed normal, if not a little reserved. Finally I mentioned something casually to a friend at the conference. She hugged me. 

"It's not going to be ok," she said. Finally, someone willing to tell the truth. 

That night I drank enormously and ended up at a bar down the street from my hotel room, tired of being alone and "trying to eavesdrop hard enough so that I will feel like I am a part of something."

By Thursday evening I could not hold my emotions in any longer. I went to a restaurant alone in the evening and cried as soon as my salad arrived. Then I left and walked across the street to a cafe. When I arrived "I looked around and every seat and table was taken. There was one large round table with 5 chairs and I asked the guy there if I could sit with him. Just as I was hanging my coat and purse, a small bar counter in an enclave opened. If I moved there, I would be looking at the wall. It would be private and secluded, perhaps the most private and secluded place in the café, but I chose to sit where I was. I felt like being across from a stranger. I felt like sitting on an island table, between conversations and counters. Where I can look over both the staff and the customers. Where words fly past me without touching. I didn’t want to be in a lonely corner again. I want to be around people. They are the cure to my loneliness, these strangers."

When I was finally able to step out of my own head, I began to really listen to what the people around me were saying. Tulsa is a polarized city in very red (Republican) state. The black, Muslim, and Native American people at our conference were very verbal about their fear and mourning. Outside, the Tulsa veterans day parade was almost exclusively white. A celebration of America. 

How do I make sense of all of this? How do I live in this works where such different truths exist. 

On the final day of the conference our closing keynote speaker Jack Condon described his Wednesday at the Liberty bell in Philadelphia. Dismayed at the results of the election, he and his friends wanted to be in a symbolic place. And though the Liberty bell and its famous crack never held any fascination for him, at that particular moment he realized something about it:

"No one knows why the bell cracked, but what they can all agree on is that is was flawed when it was made."

Despite being depressed for days, when I woke up on Friday morning my thoughts were my own again. I started talking to people again, not just listening. My last meal in Tulsa was fired mozzarella sticks, the only vegetarian dish on a long menu of items, and a warm apple pie. I will probably never come back to this part of the country. But it hold 4 days of my fear and sadness and friendships and struggle. 

There is something symbolic about being in the middle of the country at this polarizing time in history.