I'm the sort of woman who falls in love easily. Never fear, my husband's honor
isn't in any danger. No, I fall in love with proprietors of cafes, coffee shops, and bakeries. I flit from one to the
next, never falling out of love exactly, but giving my heart - and my dollar - far more fully to whoever's the newest
sweet-o-my-heart.
This week, my one true love is Li Doyle, whose name I only know from Googling her. Her establishment is Patisserie Cafe Lili (which should, if I do my French right, be Cafe Patisserie Lili, but - oh well), and it's in the tony antique-shopping neighborhood of Sellwood here in Portland. It's a few miles from my house, and would normally be way out of my way - except for when I make a pilgrimage to "The Bins," the Goodwill outlet (Portland's ultimate thrift experience - oh how I love it).
During my last pilgrimage, I needed coffee, and saw this friendly-seeming cafe only a few blocks away. I parked and ran to the front door only to realize it was still in a pre-grand-opening mess. I walked back to my car, disappointed. I'd opened my door when the owner ran out. "Let me make you a drink!" she said eagerly.
How could I refuse? She chatted eagerly, showing me her almost-completed kitchen and proudly telling of her accomplishment in opening this retail outlet (she's been baking wholesale for years). She fixed me a latte despite her unprepared state. She refused money, making me take my dollars back, and asked me just to come back once the cafe was opened.
It's open now, and you can bet I'll be visiting frequently, far though it is from my daily grind. I'm in love with Li, and while it lasts, she'll be getting all my attention and - most importantly - a good deal of my money.
