By L.E. Leone

le_chicken_farmer@yahoo.com

I started at the corner of Solano and the Alameda, in Berkeley. There's a little corner café there called Jerusalem's Organic Kitchen, where I was meeting a friend for dinner at 5:30, and it was going to be my new favorite restaurant, but first I needed coffee. I needed to pee, and I needed to kill a couple hours because it was only 3:30.

These are the kinds of times that the Chicken Farmer lives for: a couple hours to kill with a good pen, lots of blank paper, and absolutely nothing in the world to say. And coffee, so I wandered off down Solano in search of my new favorite coffeehouse.

The hardest hurdle to clear was Zachary's Pizza without a wait, that time on a Monday afternoon. I had to twist myself up inside and wring out every last drop of restraint just to not go in and swan dive into a little 14-inch deep-dish appetizer with sausage and artichoke hearts.

I was pretty proud of myself, but I was also all-the-way out of restraint, just like that, not even one block walked – so I made a mental note to walk back to Jerusalem's, when the time came, on the other side of the street.

Then, in some sort of weird, reflexive, recharging frenzy, my body had a little out-of-brain experience, veering me into a bookstore. While my intellect watched helplessly from the sidewalk, I bought almost every book ever written. The ones they didn't have, I ordered. Now I was down to an hour and a half, with everything in the world to read, nothing to say, and I still had to pee, only worse.

There was Peet's.

There was nowhere to sit in Peet's. What kind of coffeehouse is that? No tables at all. Just a very narrow counter in the window with a handful of stools, all taken. I walked all the way to the back of the place, looking for the coffeehouse part of the coffeehouse, and it wasn't there. A sign said, No Public Restrooms.

Fuck you, Peet. Next corner: Starbucks.

I couldn't do it. I had restraint again. I was over-recharged. With all the restraint in the world, all the books, nothing to say, and having to pee, I said, in effect, fuck you, Starbucks. I was going to find a real coffeehouse. How hard could that be, on Solano Avenue in Berkeley?

Well, when I got to Albany I was going to turn around and go back but I thought I remembered there being a homey little pie place a few blocks ahead. I can do that, I thought. I can sit at a counter with whatever time I have left, slice of pie, bottomless cup of Farmers Brothers. Use the restroom ... So I kept walking, but the pie place was closed.

I turned around. Must have missed something. There has to be a Mama Buzz, or a Jumpin' Jive or Java Juju – but there's not. I pilgrimed all the way back to Jerusalem's, stopping to pee and not buy anything at Starbucks, and to pour down a cup of joe, standing up, at Peet's.

My new favorite restaurant doesn't have coffee, just tea. The lamb shawarma is great. A platter comes with hummus and salad for $7.95. I wish they gave you a bigger piece of pita, or more smaller pieces. But they didn't. I have no idea what it was, but the dark, spicy dipping sauce was delicious.

My friend Kim got a skewer of chicken with couscous and salad for $9.95. The couscous was great, but the chicken was dry dry dry.

They also do burgers and falafel. Everything's organic and the meat's all Niman Ranch and free-range and just generally happy – until they skewer and overcook it, poor chicken.

But most importantly, Jerusalem's is a fine, fun, comfortable place to sit down and hang out for a while and talk shop and shit (oh, they do have a restroom, by the way) with fine food and fun friends who live comfortably up the hill from there, like Kim.

She gave me a pair of shiny blue hand-me-down pants.

I gave her a carton of eggs. "Where the hell do you go for your coffee around here?" I forgot to ask. So I still don't know. And now, if you'll excuse me, I have a little bit of reading to do.

JERUSALEM'S ORGANIC KITCHEN Daily, 11 a.m.-9 p.m. 1897 Solano Ave., Berk. (510) 525-7888 Takeout available No alcohol MC/V Wheelchair accessible