Recently, I’ve been thinking about an interview I had back in 2014. The interviewer asked me what enticed me about hospitality, and how I felt about the industry. At that time I barely had an acceptable answer (I was 24, utterly useless and caught off guard.)
Six years later, I still think back on that interview and the answer I wish I had put into words then. The reality is that the pleasure derived from a sensory experience at a specific place will always have a special place in my heart. Café Henrie is one of those places, even more so since it has long shuttered it’s doors. It melded the art, fashion and culinary world (a rare combination, even to this day.)
The name Henrie, a tribute to his daughter Henrietta. The space, peppered with ever functional Tom Sachs furniture, Peter Shire mugs, Petra Collins neon signs, with André’s latest projects strewn about. Coffee by Counter Culture, and brunch fare by Marquis Hayes (who described himself going from “crack to croquettes” in a New York Times article back in 2015.)
There is a distinct memory of walking a couple of blocks from Nolita to Lower East Side in the (strangely) frigid November chill, buckling down for brunch early in the am, holding onto Peter Shire’s Echo Park Pottery mugs (for the first time in my life), watching people as they made their way to work. My mind palace is only capable of so little, since I am neither a skillful consulting detective nor a manipulative charming psychiatrist.
Denise Taw 