After serving up a smorgasbord of dining options for 18 years, ranging from coffee to cigars and everything in between, our friends under the neon coffee beans and Razorback Red awning have poured their last cup of joe. Obviously, Faylunchin cannot let this once beloved house of hangouts go quietly into the night without one last hurrah, at least not in good conscious. And thanks to the Fayetteville Flyer’s early warning system, an Englishmen, a Chinese man, and an Indian were given a chance to savor their grounds one last time.
*FULL DISCLOSURE: members of the Faylunchin crew have either worked here at one point and/or spent countless hours musing over life with friends. So forgive us if we wax a bit too sentimentally.
Harvey, indicative of his English upbringing, prefers tea over coffee, and can be quite particular over just what kind of tea he'll settle for. Common Grounds tea was not to his fancy. So instead, he opted for the vanilla bean (translation: sugar upon sugar with a dabble of sugary milk). If he didn’t have "diabeetus" before, then surely Harvey joined the Wilford Brimley club with his 10 lb. Chocolate Cake. Brave (or perhaps on a sugar high), Harvey attempted to finish the whole cake by himself. Valiant effort, sir, but no mortal can consume that much sugar and dairy and hope to survive!
Alas fans! This is the exact reason why Faylunchin is a trio instead of a one-man show. What seems an insurmountable summit for one is no match for the Les Trois Mousquetaires of food eating – one for all and all for one! Luckily for Harvey, Mike and Qi had coffee to help wash down their sugary morsels, and that leftover cake never stood a chance. Just as those caped Frenchmen were known to shout in all the Parisian bakeries: La victoire!
Mike, on the other hand, went for something decidedly cooler and classier, the café mocha. A man of discerning taste and timeless class, his coffee choices are no exception. After all, he's been drinking coffee since the ripe age of seven; no really, that much coffee stunted his growth. He was supposed to be like 6'5".
Fret not. Because we believe what made Common Grounds unique, what gave it it’s raison d'être, transcended the food itself. Common Grounds was a gathering place, first and foremost. Sure, it's food was not Michelin Star-worthy, and sure, they weren't lauded for impeccable service. Members of the Faylunchin crew have visited the restaurant on multiple occasions, independent of each other, and found the fare underwhelming, the service marching to the beat of their own drums. But what kept Common Grounds going, and its patrons willing to ignore the occasional food mishaps was in its namesake -- a place where guests might find common ground. Perhaps this is why their menu is so comprehensive. No matter what your tastes are, or your mood, chances are you'll find something to satisfy your senses.
Common Grounds was more than a restaurant, more than a coffee shop or expresso bar. Whatever people might choose to call it. It was a vessel, a vehicle if you will. Once you stepped foot inside, you were transported to a place without outcasts, a place where music, art, food, and most importantly, conversation occurred simultaneously. Perhaps a place where our creative seeds were planted, and later where the roots could take hold. Where mistakes from a Saturday night (or likely the wee hours of the morning) were washed down with a spicy, tomato cocktail on a Sunday afternoon. The Garden of Eden, ironically located, in a petri dish. |
But take heart, fellow lunchers, for out of the ashes a phoenix shall arise. When it does, you can bet on Faylunchin being there, trying to catch that bird with our forks, chopsticks, and hands.