I’m well into my morning commute by the time I breeze through the Union Square Greenmarket, but I don’t become conscious until then. Revived by a new landscape of radish-end hills, jam jar pyramids, and arugula forests, I start scanning the stands in hopes of breakfast. When I pass the Muffin Madness stand I weaken, but keep walking.

There’s no fear of carbs here, it’s just that that muffin man once held my change hostage. “We charge a tax here,” he’d said, holding up my quarter. “I need to see a smile.” Now, a little background about this demand. Over the years, sporadically, but too often, I’d have “Smile, honey” tossed out to me on the street by construction workers, bums, dudes swarmed outside a bar, and assorted passers-by. “Hey, smile.” “Give us a smile.” Or in the case of one street musician “JEE-suz lady life ain’t so bad! SMIIIIILE!” I’m primed to be irritated, to ignore it, keep walking. And I don’t hear it as much now, perhaps because I keep my ipod on, or perhaps because I’ve aged out of the barely-legal desirability bracket for alpha-men.

But, if there’s a muffin at stake? Maybe I should ditch my baggage and plaster a grin on my face at their prompting. Anyway, today there’s a different guy manning the stand, and I figure they can’t both be annoying. Our conversation follows:

Muffin Dude: (stares off into space for several seconds as I stand waiting).
Me: (a little tentative) Hello?
Muffin Dude: (head swivels toward me, but dead stare remains)
Me: Could I have an apple cider muffin please?
Muffin Dude: You can have anything you want.
Me: Ok, I’d like an apple cider muffin.
Muffin Dude: I’ll even put it in a bag for you.
Me (holding out money): Um, that’d be great, thanks.
Muffin Dude: I just need one little smile first.
Me (surprised by my swift rage, but calm): I don’t think you’ll be getting that.
Muffin Dude: I can see it. I see a smile. It wants to come out.
Me: Can I have the muffin or not?
Muffin Dude (miffed): It’s Just a Smile.
Me (shoving my money in my pocket): You know what, forget it.

It’s not smiling that I hate, it’s assholes. So now you’re prepared for their weird little schtick, and for however much it may irk you. For my part, I’ll be muffin-shopping at these delicious, no-bullshit alternatives:

Body and Soul – in the Northwest corner of the Greenmarket on Mondays and Fridays. Good carrot orange muffins.

Vegan Scone Lady – can be found on Fridays along the West-side stretch of the Greenmarket. Yummy apple scones.

City Bakery – on 18th at 5th Avenue. Good raspberry bran muffin ($2.75) and the baker’s muffin ($3.50) is pure powdered-sugar decadence. Might as well pick up one of their pretzel croissants while you’re at it, which will make you forget you wanted a muffin in the first place.

Saturdays require a refined sort fuel, a job for espresso masters. I have a fear of putting my caffeine addiction at the mercy of a slapdash barista, but at Ninth Street Espresso I can relax, because I know I’m in good hands. Don’t try to order a highly-customized half-decaf non-fat extra-foam something-or-other with an extra shot in a venti cup. Simply order “a cappuccino” ($3.50) and perfection results. A perfectly-poured cup with just the right amount of rich foam in relation to bold, sweet espresso, with a design of a heart, or a leaf, dribbled into the top.

If that’s not reward enough for your week’s labor, there’s visual stimulation as well. The clientele is mostly young-ish, stylish, and chatting quietly or reading something that looks like it has more words than pictures. Maybe it’s the not-exactly kid-friendly rules posted over the bar (“Unattended children will be given an espresso and a free dog”) or the location (avenue C) but this place attracts some of the yummiest, potentially-single eyecandy this side of the East River. Frequently the music pumping through the speakers of this little corner of the universe is awesome.

And there you are, revived and sailing forth from the far East Village to take on your weekend.

Update Feb ’08: I see they’re now serving baked goods from Balthazar at the counter!

The art of cupping at Ninth Street

Ninth Street Espresso, 700 East Ninth Street at Avenue C
7 am – 8 pm

Due to an unfortunate harddrive meltdown I’ve been blasted back to a time before blogging, before interwebs and computers, when observations were simply etch-a-sketched, curves didn’t exist, and it was assumed the world at large doesn’t much care what you think. Actually, I made that up. I never owned an Etch-a-Sketch, only its bastard stepchild The Animator, which never spawned any artistic masters or gallery shows, because it generally sucked.

Anyway, I’ve recently acquired a drool-worthy new macbook and now possess so much raw computing power that the only thing to do is toss back a couple espressos, crank up some IDM, and lose myself in the dorktastic euphoria of new gadgetry. After that I’m sure I’ll be snackish, so stay tuned.