Choosing your coffee shop is a crucial decision in New York; it's your brain's calm port in the storm, a place for deep contemplation, overdue paperwork, and the skimming of ginormous books. The java is secondary, but it shouldn't suck. We prefer B Cup in Alphabet City, because the oasis meets our most important requirement: that the baristas be cute. Really, really cute, and attentive and adorable to boot. We could get into the details, such as how one resembles an Israeli Paul McCartney, but we don't need others horning in on our eye candy there; it's almost as good as the hummus.