I suppose a beer can have its own café. Why not? I of course did not order a Leffe, since my thing is getting an espresso. It's a little cooler today, so I didn't mind drinking something hot. They gave me a small glass of water which wasn't necessary at all, but I drank it anyway. What they didn't give me was a packet of sugar cubes -- for some reason they felt that they should inflict a blue tube of powdered sugar on me instead. There is nothing attractive about powdered sugar. I could care less if I have the ability to pour exactly the amount of sugar I require into my espresso. One cube of sugar or two --that's all the flexibility one really needs. Sugar cubes are fun. Powdered sugar is not. 'Nuff said.

My table is square, wooden, pockmarked, a nice size. The ashtray is ceramic and says "Café Leffe," the logo making it seem as though the words are passing out of an arched portal of some sort.

It's a relatively big place. There's an upstairs. There are lots of tables outside. A tan man sitting near me with a gray t-shirt and graying hair distractedly pokes his onion soup with a spoon as he reads a book.

There is a music video station playing on a raised television monitor, but I can't hear the music. Well, I hear a relatively quiet dance beat, but I don't think it goes with the video. I recognize the video playing now as Elvis' comeback hit "A Little Less Conversation."

The waiters here have blue long-sleeved shirts and black pants. A creepy man with a goatee and a cast on his left arm seems to be in charge here. In contrast to the waiters, he has a white shirt and a dark reddish-brown tie. The overhead lights look like stained glass alien pods wearing black metal hats with chin straps. On the video screen a woman in white on a boat full of her friends is covering a Madonna song. Is that sort of thing really necessary?