the mock-up.

I worked through lunch today (oh, Quark, you are a cruel little minx) so I took an afternoon break and went to the newly-opened Flour with every intention of finishing my reading. Instead, I thought about Flour.

People from the South End have raved to me about this place before, but I dismissed it, because (in my experience) most people who live in the South End think that every establishment in the South End is just too fabulous for words. That said, those people are usually right, and the Farnsworth Street Flour is really, really good. Like every other establishment around here, it's got the reformed-industrial aethestic -- think concrete floors and exposed ceiling beams -- but it's also a toasty warm space with buttery yellow walls and a counter overflowing with goodies. These are treats in the purest sense of the word. Who wants to eat a perfect fruit tart or a rich little chocolate cake in the middle of the workday? I do, along with every other frustrated creative working a 9-to-5 who occasionally needs to do something indulgent in order to forget that they spend forty hours a week in a soulless beige cubicle.

Ahem. Anyway.

They've got roast chicken and jicama sandwiches, sugary brioches, a refreshing aversion to salads and an eternally cheerful staff -- the latter of which would normally get under my skin, but here, it works. It's not a place designed for grumpily dashing in and grabbing a sandwich to go (not that you could, as the line around noontime is literally out the door). It makes you want to exchange pleasantries and drink your coffee in a ceramic mug instead of a paper cup.

It feels like a neighborhood place, which is odd, as this chunk of the city never struck me as much of a neighborhood. Two kinds of coffee places dominate the Fort Point Channel and South Station area: Starbucks with its gallons of impersonal brew and harried assistants buying trays of lattes, or Dunks with its stonefaced employees and defiant lack of Fritalian. (I don't count Peet's because I tend to forget that it exists; also, the coffee there is stronger than gasoline.) Most of the coffeeshops in this area are all regularity and reliability and efficiency: Get-you-in-and-get-you-back-out-to-the-office-or-construction-site kind of joints.

Flour has personality, which seems new and different for Farnsworth Street. To be sure, the personality is stock hip-yet-cozy-boulangerie. I mean, the chalkboard menu advertises "a tall, cold glass of milk" for $1.25. Is that precious? Sure. Am I a sucker for that stuff? Absolutely. Does it belong in Fort Point Channel? Remains to be seen. The area is building itself up with lightning speed. That was exciting at first, but now it seems like it's going to become yet another cookie-cutter mix of luxury condos and upscale bistros (and, if we're really lucky, a new City Hall replacing Harborlights). Either way, the urbanites who work on the waterfront or visit the ICA or bring their kids to The Children's Museum for some edification will likely keep Flour in business, and I'm happy about that.

Besides, it's hard to be grumpy while eating jicama. Fun to say, fun to eat.