Mustapha's Espresso Robots Baseball T-Shirt

In these days of chains and franchises, finding an independent proprietor of any variety is most refreshing, but that is only one of the reasons I loved getting my coffee at Khartoum’s. The place itself was a marvel of soaring ceilings with lazily spinning fans twirling above carved wooden tables, dusty brocade sofas and a crush of bentwood chairs. And the owner, Mr. Khartoum (“You must call me Farouk. I insist upon it!”) was clearly a collector of specific passions and unimpeachable tastes. Beautiful antique cut crystal decanters lined the vintage pastry cases and counters, which housed velvet trays of unusual estate jewellry nestled alongside artful boxes of exotic hand soap. All this and homemade pastries and cookies that lounged...