Breakfast at Hartsfield

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I was looking for a Starbucks. I know, I know. But Starbucks is my standard airport breakfast. Oatmeal, coffee. Easy, healthy, available everywhere. Except concourse B at the Atlanta airport.

Unable to find a Starbucks, I was wandering, trying to decide where to buy a granola bar, when I noticed the Buckhead Bookstore and Cafe in the back of the central part of the concourse. I love a good bookstore, of course, and it seemed possible they’d at least have coffee, so I ducked inside. And discovered it was Cafe Intermezzo.

For people who didn’t grow up in Atlanta, Cafe Intermezzo will mean nothing. It’s a Buckhead cafe, and it’s also the place where one of my life’s greatest love affairs began. Many, many years ago, at some wee high school age, I had my very first espresso at Cafe Intermezzo. It was actually a capuccino with Nutella, so more like dessert than coffee, but a gateway beverage for sure.

Anyway, I was delighted with the whole nostalgia angle, and it has this cozy Paris cafe feeling that made it a lovely place to hide away from the airport wackiness. I sat at the bar, as I am wont to do. The coffee came in a carafe, which I adore because not having to wait for a coffee topoff is a small but splendid thing. AND they had oatmeal. In fact, the best oatmeal I have EVER TASTED. It was nutmeg, I think, that clinched the deliciousness, but I’m also fairly certain it contained enough heavy cream and brown sugar to negate any nutritional content entirely. It was almost impossible not to scarf the whole bowl.

This was a marvelous way to begin my media tour to Kissimmee, Fla., especially now that my flight is delayed. And will apparently be transporting an entire preschool.

God bless the iPod.

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