In a shot of espresso

The walk from City National Plaza to Historic Core, the financial district to the heart of the old downtown, stretches across the lot of LA's cultural strata. You start at the gargantuan granite towers, with gleaming surfaces and a spritely centerpiece fountain, then hint quickly at a hip spot at The Standard Hotel, a reconveyed oil company headquarters. Then you'll see Pershing Square and the Jewelry District, where GIA-certified stones straddle blingy gold chains while Mexican tunes blast from an unseen stereo. A saxophone's notes philander through the streets while the buckle and brown of a citybus tampers it all down.

Spring For Coffee, embedded along art galleries and a flower shop on Spring Street, hides a part of LA's best coffee offerings, a half-dozen beans from top-tier roasters. Maru Nagano, who formerly sliced nigiri at Mori Sushi, ruminates on a superb cup on one of the sidewalk chairs, legs crossed and mini fedora topping off the figure. He jumps up after seeing me and walks over behind the counter to take my order. "One espresso, in ceramic."

I plop down on the chair he occupied and opened my two latest library books that seemed to be on hold for an eternity, Molly Wizenberg's "A Homemade Life" and Amanda Hesser's (editor) "Eat, Memory," memoirs from great food writers.

A short while later, Maru presents a clean white tasse of my single shot from Jaguar Espresso. I know this isn't the best espresso they offer, but I only had $2.25 in my pocket, a quarter shy of the upgrade to Intelligentsia's Black Cat. Drat.

I peered into the cup, donning the saucer and its dais in my hand. The dark crema isn't as bright as Intelligentsia's but I still take the small spoon and dip into the top crust, releasing aromas. I take a small sip, mixing the foamy top over my palate. A hint of saltiness hits the backend while a calm, rustic cloud of caramel and roasted grain remains. I hear the saltiness is due to the La Marzocco not reaching optimal temperature.

The caffeine nudges the mind while I blissfully relax, watching some stragglers across the street waiting for the bus. Hipsters, artists, and the occasional businessman walk by on my side, a concrete moat against the busy asphault. Like a shot of espresso capturing a coffee bean's essence, the terroir of the brown liquid and gentle crema like a snapshot of the farm's land, there's a bit of this walk across Downtown that encapsulates the essence of this city.

Juxtoposed wealth and grit, suave bankers and professionals cushy in their Johnathan and California Clubs, sit mere blocks from cardboard homes and crumbling tenements. In between lie the glimmering windows of jewelry, the occasional Latino newstand of shady covers and colorful photos, the beleaguered wheelchair and the prim-cut suit. Perhaps there's a family of six, four small children straddling the parents.

I love this city because it's a cross-section of humanity, displaying a myriad of needs, wants, passions, and livelihoods. I try my best to capture what I see, what I hear and smell and taste. Take a shot of fine espresso and maybe it'll get you thinking the same way. It's all too fast-paced at times, but sometimes its great to sit down and savor.