Alohomocha

Alohomocha is a coffee shop in Diagon Alley, London owned by Clementine Davenport. Or it was once, but time has changed it, as time is wont to do, and in the years since its humble beginnings, it has managed to ascend to the next tier of the eatery scale and become something slightly more than a café, becoming a favorite haunt for locals, Ministry workers, Hogwarts faculty and students alike.

The menu can be viewed here.

Staff, Past and Present

• Lysander Blackwell, Pâtissier
• Emeline Trumble, Barista
• Leon Faulkner, Former Barista
• Cecily Donovan, Former Barista

Exterior

On the outside, not much has changed; it has the original slightly leaning brick walls, although the windows have been enlarged (and then enlarged again, and then made into graceful arches rather than the heavy-set indented style they were originally, with a little fanciful iron work to help them stand out a little). When the weather allows, there are extra tables and chairs set outside for customers to enjoy the comparatively warm weather and whatever quantity of sunshine there might be.

Above the door, the name of the shop is painted in gold lettering, the advertising effort helped by a sign featuring a cup of coffee, or perhaps tea, a spiral of steam rising from it. When pitted against the variety of Diagon Alley's stores, mere lettering isn’t nearly sufficient to entice customers away from their shopping for a quick coffee and a snack, so it is fortunate for Alohomocha that the smell of caffeine – glorious, enticing caffeine – and patisserie is a far better advertisement for the quality of the fare available.

Interior

Through the door, however, the gradual improvement of finances is more visible, in both the size of the shop (larger than might initially be assumed), and in the improvement of the quality of the décor – taste being subjective. The half-paneled walls are painted in a warm red, pale enough that it isn’t painful to be in the room and a pleasant combination with the cherry-wood floors, extremely elegant and durable enough to endure the wear and tear of daily use, provided they receive the proper attention during closing and opening.

Decoration is kept to a minimum, with a menu directly behind the main counter listing pricing, and a collection of pictures adorning the wall, an odd mixture that is dictated by the café's owner and changes regularly. While the large windows provide ample light during the daytime, there are still lights that come in use during the short daylight hours of winter and the regular cloudy days, as well as keeping the far reaches of the main room well lit.

The tables are uniformly small, in keeping with Alohomocha's purpose (which, contrary to the beliefs of some, is not to provide an easily provoked chef for them to mock), laid out neatly at the beginning of the day but frequently moved by customers seeking to sit with their friends or family. Most are designed to seat two, although four could easily gather round, provided they had enough chairs. Left to withstand spilled beverages unaided, it’s unsurprising that a couple have permanent stains; nothing too obtrusive, but still frustratingly present.

The main counter, holding pride of place and covering most of one wall, is glass-fronted and displays the work of Lysander Blackwell, the pâtissier, a mixture of magical and mundane confectionary that are, without exception, almost too beautiful to eat – but only almost, because, as Leon will readily attest, they taste better than even the appearance would suggest. Also on display are the ingredients required by Cecily Donovan to make the nicest sandwiches you will ever eat. On the far right, as the customer sees it, is the till, a machine with an elegant design that belies how clunky it is to operate.

Behind the counter is the exclusive (ha!) domain of the baristas, an ordered clutter that contains everything that could possibly be needed to create any beverage you might care to order, although it’s more convenient for all concerned if you stick to the menu, written in full on a blackboard attached to the wall behind it. Most frequently run by Leon, who holds the title of best latte artist, there are usually at least two baristas at work.

To the back of the shop are the doors to the toilets, complete with sinks which have the charming habit of squirting you with water, should you fail to flush the toilet. Kept scrupulously clean, they are in all other ways unremarkable.

The other door is strictly staff-only.