Why The Cupping Room Cafe Basically Defined SoHo’s Original Soul

Why The Cupping Room Cafe Basically Defined SoHo’s Original Soul

SoHo today feels like a luxury mall. You walk down West Broadway or Spring Street and you’re surrounded by high-fashion storefronts, glass facades, and tourists clutching shopping bags. But if you talk to anyone who lived in Lower Manhattan back in the 70s or 80s, they’ll tell you about a different world. It was a place for artists. It was gritty. It was cheap. And right in the middle of that evolution sat The Cupping Room Cafe.

It wasn’t just a place to get a muffin.

Honestly, the history of this spot at 359 West Broadway is a timeline of New York City’s own identity crisis. When it opened in 1977, it was a pioneer. You have to realize that back then, "SoHo" wasn't even a brand yet; it was just a collection of industrial lofts where people lived illegally. The Cupping Room started as a coffee wholesaler. It was a literal cupping room—a place where professionals would taste and grade coffee beans.

Eventually, it morphed into a full-service restaurant. It became the neighborhood living room. If you were a painter needing a caffeine fix before hitting the canvas or a local looking for a burger that didn't cost a week's rent, this was the spot.

The Evolution of 359 West Broadway

The building itself has that classic Federal-style architecture that makes New York history buffs geek out. Built around 1827, it’s old. Like, "predates the Civil War" old. The Cupping Room Cafe didn't just inhabit the space; it preserved a vibe that most of the city was busy tearing down.

Inside, it was all exposed brick and warm wood. It felt lived-in. You’ve probably been to those modern cafes where everything is white marble and neon signs, right? This was the opposite. It was dark, cozy, and smelled like decades of roasted beans and spilled wine.

Why the "Cupping" Name?

People get confused by the name nowadays. Some think it’s about that trendy therapy where they put glass suctions on your back to heal muscles. No. In the world of specialty coffee, "cupping" is the formal process of observing the tastes and aromas of brewed coffee. It’s highly technical.

👉 See also: Sleeping With Your Neighbor: Why It Is More Complicated Than You Think

The founder, Nathalie de la Riviere, was a visionary in that sense. Long before Starbucks made the "third place" a corporate buzzword, she created a space where the process of making food and drink was respected but the atmosphere remained unpretentious.

What Actually Happened During the Pandemic?

We have to talk about the closure. It hurts, but it's part of the story. Like so many institutions, the COVID-19 pandemic was the final blow for the cafe.

New York dining is a brutal business. Rents in SoHo are astronomical. When you combine those overhead costs with a global shutdown, even a 40-year-old landmark starts to buckle. In 2020, the news hit that the cafe was shuttering. For locals, it felt like losing a limb. It wasn't just about the food; it was about the fact that one of the last tethers to "Old SoHo" was being cut.

But then, things got interesting.

There was a brief moment of hope when talk of a "reimagined" version surfaced. The space eventually transitioned. Today, if you walk by 359 West Broadway, you’ll find Kyma, an upscale Greek restaurant. It’s beautiful, sure. It’s successful. But for the people who remember the creaky floors and the simple brunch of The Cupping Room, it’s a bittersweet change.

The Food That People Still Talk About

Let’s be real: the menu wasn't trying to win a Michelin star. It was comfort food done right.

✨ Don't miss: At Home French Manicure: Why Yours Looks Cheap and How to Fix It

  • The Brunch: They were famous for it. People would line up for hours—not for an Instagram photo, but for the eggs Benedict and the thick-cut French toast.
  • The Pot Pies: There was something about their chicken pot pie that felt like a hug on a rainy November day in Manhattan.
  • The Coffee: Obviously. Since they started as wholesalers, they knew their stuff. It was strong, hot, and didn't require a degree in chemistry to order.

There’s a weird myth that every famous NYC restaurant was a celebrity hangout. While you’d certainly see famous faces there, they weren’t there to be "seen." They were there because the cafe treated everyone the same. Whether you were a billionaire gallery owner or a struggling poet, your coffee cost the same and the service was just as erratic or charming depending on the day.

The SoHo Gentrification Trap

The Cupping Room Cafe is a case study in what happens when a neighborhood becomes too successful. In the 1970s, artists moved into SoHo because the lofts were cheap and the light was good. Then, boutiques followed the artists. Then, the wealthy followed the boutiques. Finally, the developers followed the wealth.

Eventually, the very things that made the neighborhood cool—the dive bars, the artist-run galleries, and the independent cafes—get priced out by the wealth they attracted. It’s a cycle.

When you look at the cafe’s history, you see the stages of NYC’s transformation:

  1. Wholesale/Industrial Phase: Focus on the product (coffee beans).
  2. Bohemian Phase: Focus on the community (the artists).
  3. Destination Phase: Focus on the tourists and brunch-goers.
  4. Corporate/High-End Phase: The transition to luxury dining.

Why We Still Care About a Closed Cafe

You might wonder why we’re still talking about a place that isn't serving coffee anymore. Honestly, it’s because New York is losing its "third places." These are the spots between work and home where you actually interact with your neighbors.

The Cupping Room was a anchor.

🔗 Read more: Popeyes Louisiana Kitchen Menu: Why You’re Probably Ordering Wrong

When a place survives for over 40 years in Manhattan, it becomes part of the city’s collective memory. It’s where people had first dates that turned into marriages. It’s where people wrote novels. It’s where families gathered after a day at the Whitney or the Guggenheim.

A Note on the "New" Cupping Room

You might see some listings online for "The Cupping Room" in other locations or under different management. It's important to distinguish the original SoHo legend from newer iterations. While the brand has had various lives and attempts at revival, the specific magic of that 359 West Broadway location during the 80s and 90s is something that can't really be replicated in a new build. It was a product of its time and its specific four walls.

Actionable Insights for the NYC Explorer

If you’re looking to capture the vibe that The Cupping Room Cafe left behind, you have to look a little harder now. But it's possible.

Visit the building. Even though it's Kyma now, go stand on the corner of West Broadway and Broome. Look at the architecture of the building. Notice the scale of it compared to the glass towers further uptown. That’s the scale of Old New York.

Seek out the "Holdouts." If you want the authentic, un-gentrified experience, look for the places that have been around since at least the 90s. Places like Fanelli’s Cafe (just a few blocks away) still carry that torch. It’s got the same DNA—wooden bars, simple food, and a refusal to turn into a minimalist showroom.

Support the "Third Place." The lesson of The Cupping Room is that these places are fragile. If you have a local spot where the owner knows your name and the coffee is good, go there. Often. Don't just go to the place with the best aesthetic for your phone. Go to the place that makes the neighborhood feel like a neighborhood.

Explore the history of SoHo's Cast Iron District. The area surrounding the old cafe site is a National Historic Landmark. Take a walking tour that focuses on the 1970s artist movement. Understanding the context of why these cafes existed in the first place makes the city feel much deeper than just a series of shops.

The Cupping Room Cafe might be gone, but the shift it represented—from industrial hub to community staple—is the story of New York itself. It reminds us that the city isn't just made of steel and glass; it's made of the smell of roasting beans and the sound of a crowded room at 11:00 AM on a Sunday morning.