Where to by CHLOE, a bastion of plant-based, vegan cuisine in the shiny Seaport District.
What for Kale with a side of envy. CHLOE is the girl you weren’t cool enough to befriend in high school. Everyone here has edgy eyewear, dewy skin and hair, and an air of self-assured poise. That vegan lifestyle works!
The scene Ripped from the pages of your favorite lifestyle magazine. The room is clean and pristine, with black-and-white wallpaper and a reading nook stocked with “Tapas” and “Anorak” mags. Groups of Emma Stone lookalikes sit at booths below enormous mirrors, checking their phones and nibbling salads. A line of well-dressed workers stretches to the door, anchored by a “recycle” and “trash” counter, the words spelled out in jaunty cursive. Browse by CHLOE’s line of T-shirts, hats, and dog biscuits, lovingly arranged on shelves, while you wait. But take heed: Some items are for display only. “No touchy,” requests a by CHLOE sign, punctuated with a heart.
What you’re eating by CHLOE serves “brekkie and brunch,” with oat and almond pancakes, scrambled tofu, and quinoa hash browns. The lunch crowd gathers for counter-service mac and “cheese” with sweet potato-cashew cheese sauce, a guacamole burger on a black bean-quinoa-sweet potato patty, and sides of air-baked French fries. There’s also a soup of the day; today, it’s shiitake “clam” chowder with cauliflower cream. If the line is unbearable, yank a gluten-free detox kale salad from a display case and head back to your desk to gloat.
Care for a drink? Smoothies change regularly; get a “Green Day” with kale, spinach, and avocado, or go for a “hot bev” like hot cocoa made with peanut butter and dark chocolate. There’s also a to-go case brimming with Health-Ade Kombucha and cleansing ginger-cayenne shooters.
Overheard Manhattan transfers; backhanded compliments; pastry problems; sly maneuvers. “I’m so excited for you. You’re moving to New York, and your real life is going to begin,” a woman says to a friend in an affectless tone. “Your skin has never looked better. You must be using a different cleanser!” a wispy woman greets a pal, unfurling a very long scarf. A harried-looking woman in a big fleece coat elbows her way to the front of the line, eliciting a series of scowls. “Um, my cupcake just fell on the floor. Can I get a new one?” she asks. “Just give her a new one,” a cashier instructs a colleague. A sassy lady turns to the woman next to her in line and points at a fellow a few people ahead. “I think that man cut us. Did he cut us? I’ll just let it go; he wants his lunch more than me,” she says.