Home at the Little House Cafe

Have you ever eaten lunch at the Little House Cafe?

I have and it was fantastic! I enjoyed a hot panini sandwich called the “Don Quixote." It was a delectable combination of salami and cheese with green olive tapenade. Because this experience was so much better than the last time I’d been there, I decided to splurge and top off my lunch with a freshly made, strawberry rhubarb tart. You see, the last time I visited the Little House Cafe I called it by a different name, I called it home.

Home, aka, "the dump," was the first place I moved to when I left my parents' nest. Not only did it look different then, it was actually in a different spot. The building that now houses the Little House Cafe was on Clement, but it was moved to Blanding and remodeled into the cafe.

In an old Alameda Architectural Preservation Society article I read that the dump was noted to be in “miserable shape” before construction. As a previous tenant, I can assure you that is an severe understatement. The building that now is the cafe was throughly rundown and, due to some sewer issue, it perpetually smelled like old grease. 

Winning features of the dump included dark wood paneling and old greenish-brown shag carpet throughout. It had only one bathroom and best part about that was people had to walk through my male roommate’s room (or as he liked to call it, his "love shack") to use it. Go ahead, let your mind wander. 

Unless you count the cockroaches and the mice that lived in the walls, none of us had any pets. The dump, however, had fleas anyway. 

You may be asking why I lived there if it was so awful. Three reasons: I was young, I was stupid and most importantly, I was proving a point. My point? That I was not too young or too stupid to make it on my own.

I was tired of my parents extraordinarily strict rules (OK, not really) and apparently I was also tired of sanitary, healthy living and I decided the best way to change all this was to move out. I had heard phrases like, "My house, my rules" and "If you don't like it, move out" too many times and as soon as I was able, I did just that. The dump was the first and only apartment I looked at and I moved in, and out, almost immediately. 

That's right, I moved back in with my parents after few quick months. Or was it weeks? It felt like years!

That was then, this is now. The Little House Cafe is now a complete delight and I would like to go back every day for the rest of my life. Yes, it is that good. Not only is it delicious, the house itself resembles all the words Alameda Magazine said about it: "a petite cottage built in 1904 — historic and too darling to tear down."

I completely agree.