Café 116 Review

By Neil Schloesser
Contributing Writer

I’m losing my mind. I’m always losing my mind. I’m so preoccupied with my own death I forget to live. The anxiety is high and I feel alive. I need to be anxious to feel. Everything else is pleasant numbness like being slowly boiled alive.

I sit for coffee at Café 116 in Fergus Falls. My insides are being torn apart. I love it. I hate it. My head is light. I can’t concentrate. “Are you feeling okay?” Sara asks me. Meatball just looks on. There’s a street fair outside and the town smells of fried treats and country.

“I’m fine. Just a little tired.” I look at the menu and then over at the counter. They have a coffee siphon. It looks like a piece of laboratory equipment. “I want that,” I say and point. “I don’t care what it costs; I want my coffee made in that.”

“You and your coffee. It’s like you’re an addict,” Sara said laughing.

“I am an addict but in the grand scheme of things it’s relatively benign unlike your addiction to me which will only kill you in the end,” I say with a straight face. Sara and Meatball laugh.

Sara and I relived past experiences at the café. Their homemade crème brulee and double chocolate bread pudding made lasting impressions and we decided that they are “last meal” worthy. Meatball doubted that but we didn’t. Well, I did. My last meal is going to be pointlessly expensive so I can stick it to the man. A four dollar homemade dessert just isn’t sticking enough.   

We ordered our lunches and then I sunk into my head, watching the crowd and feeling my anxiety breathe like a monster madly in love with its creator. Everything faded but the immediacy.  Sara and Meatball talked about the street fair. I kept a sliver of my consciousness in the conversation in case I had to return.

“Cold Sandwiches. Hot sandwiches. Desserts. Soups. Homemade everything. Vegetarian options. Blended drinks, teas, coffees, and homemade sodas. Prices top out at $10. This is the definition of a local hidden gem. This is why people scour small downtowns looking for something priceless,” I think.

The interior is a modern take on a 1950’s kitchen. The tables are white or yellow topped Formica.  The chairs are mismatched in the same style. The colors are sedate but bold with yellow and robin’s egg blue covering the walls and an eclectic mix of art on the walls with a row of what appear to be papier-mâché animal masks near the door. It had a weird church basement feel, like things are holy but not quite. It felt like that when I finally left instead of finding Fergus out the front doors I’d only see a few houses, some cars in a dirt parking lot, and a horizon of cornfields.       
The conversation stopped and I’m abruptly pulled back. “Look” Sara said. My coffee is being made. The baristas look confused. We watch as they discuss the siphon and then add the water and coffee. A few minutes later I have my coffee in front of me. It’s served in a glass carafe with a mug and is served in a small cork serving tray. There’s enough for two cups of coffee. “It’s Columbian,” the waitress said.

I take a sip. The coffee is hot but not scalding so I don’t have to wait. The flavors are clear and the coffee tastes pure. It is the one of the best cups of coffee I’ve ever tasted.The flavors were fresh and not muddied, which is apparently what percolator coffee makers do based on how well this tasted. It was if a natural spring of coffee existed and they just went out back and put the carafe underneath a spring fed waterfall of coffee.

The food arrived and our salivary glands started in anticipation. I had a black bean burrito and Sara and Meatball shared a Hampden which involved sliced ham and pineapple. Both orders were served with chips. The food was good and fresh and exactly what one expects from a café, i.e. good flavor, good value, and simple presentation.

Sara and Meatball mow through their meals and go out for a smoke. I take my time and think and worry. “What if I have premature dementia? What if my cancer returned and the doctors were wrong?” I pay my $12 bill and I leave a two dollar tip. I missed you anxiety, never leave me again. I slam the rest of my coffee and head back out to the street fair, happy, full, anxious, and satisfied from a belly full of good coffee.         

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IF YOU GO:
What: Cafe 116
Where: 116 South Union Avenue, Fergus Falls, MN 56537
Telephone Number: 218.998.3780

Hours:
Monday: 7:00 a.m. - 4:00 p.m.
Tuesday - Friday: 7:00 a.m. - 8:00 p.m.
Saturday: 7:00 a.m. - 6:00 p.m.
Sunday: 8:00 a.m. - 4:00 p.m.

http://www.cafe116.com/cafe116_menu.pdf
http://www.cafe116.com