Al Fresco at the Cypress Cafe

Tap. Tap. Tap. IS THIS THING ON? Oh. Sorry.

Welcome to the soft opening of the Cypress Café, a place for foodies of all species. We specialize in treats for squirrels; but, of course, we welcome all walking, climbing, and flying animals. It’s great to see you all here today to help us celebrate.

My name is Plunkett, and I’m proud to say I own this place. We serve the best nuts, seeds, and kernels on the Westside in an upscale outdoor casual dining environment. Today, we’re here to celebrate ingenuity, hard work, and good taste while sampling a diversity of delicious delectables.

Our story is one of perseverance. At times, we thought we might never see our dream realized, but we kept going, and here we are!

The seed of of an idea

A year ago, this was an overgrown cypress tree, but we saw its potential. Back then, the tree rose forty feet or more into the sky, heavy branches kissing, or slapping on bad days, the roofs of the two adjacent human habitats. The tree has been a squirrel high rise for many years, because location. Location. Location. We’re close to our freeways, meaning those things the humans call power lines, with access to the whole neighborhood and beyond. A hop to the power pole, a quick jog along the highway, and you’re there.

It’s an ideal situation, and several families of squirrels, birds, and even the occasional subletting possum live in this tree. We’re a community. We watch out for each other. We share food.

Food. We’ve always been fortunate to have enough, but we never had a place to enjoy it, with good seating, plenty on the menu, and good company. We needed a place like the Cypress Café, so we made it happen.

None of us have carpentry skills, access to building materials, or opposable thumbs, so we were going to have to engage the humans somehow. I knew just the one. She’s famous in these parts. Some call her the squirrel whisperer; I call her S.W., Dub for short.

Every morning, Dub makes breakfast for herself and her mate, and then lets our friend Zena the fluffy black dog out into the yard. While Zena does her thing, Dub brings out a bag of trash for the dumpster and a handful of nuts for us. It’s a smorgasbord. So much variety! All our favorites. Peanuts in shells. Peanuts and cashews without shells. Almonds, natural and roasted. Pumpkin seeds. Sunflower Seeds. Mixed nuts: pecans, walnuts, Brazil nuts, even hazelnuts. Corn.

Dub lives in the big blue stucco human-nest right next to us, but she gets around. Our friends in the park down the street tell us she is there at least once a week, where she’s always good for a meal or two if you ask nicely. We all know she can’t resist our deep almond eyes, our cute little hands, and our flirtatious tail flips. I mean, can anyone?

Tree to table

Before the café, Dub would leave nuts on the fence every morning, and I’d come down and pick up a few for the wife. I’d deliver those, then sit in the tree and have my breakfast. It wasn’t the best situation. A good gust of wind or a blast of winter rain could really put a damper on my meal, and there was no room to entertain.

As winter thawed to spring, spring showered into summer, and summer chilled to fall, the seed of the idea planted months earlier took root, then became a seedling. What started with a few random nuts eaten treeside would become a real destination, a neighborhood hub. And so it has, though there have been roadblocks. We were nearly shut down by the health department until we evicted a particularly unhygienic crow. The city made us chew through miles of red tape to get a business license. Then, in November, World War Tree.

Our cypress and the sycamore next door were planted in 1950 and have never been trimmed, so both grew lush and wild. With six-foot growth every decade, Cypress and Sycamore loomed like vultures over the two human nests. Even the fire department was concerned, so Dub’s husband hired a tree trimmer to tackle the upper branches before the next winter storm brought catastrophe to our beloved community.

The tree trimmers arrived and unloaded their tools. Then, a renter in the other building, not Dub’s, popped out of his unit like an angry Jack-in-the-box and demanded they leave because his homeowner hadn’t signed off. The tree trimmers, not wanting to be in the middle of the brouhaha, packed up and left.

A few days later, the other homeowner drove herself and her dog down from her big house in the hills. Cute girl. The dog, I mean. As the wife and I watched the show from our temporary nest across the street, the homeowner met with her renter. Both looked up at the trees. Words were exchanged. There was hemming. Then hawing. Then Dub and her husband came out. More hemming and hawing.

Finally, the other homeowner agreed the trees needed to be trimmed. The tree trimmers came back. An hour of chain-sawing and wood-chipping, and Cypress and Sycamore are now shadows of their former selves. They maintain they like their new, lighter look, and they’re sticking to that story although I think they look a bit rangy.

The day after the trees got their trim, a mysterious box about the size of a dog crate showed up on Dub’s doorstep. We watched her husband, a carpenter, carry it into his workshop along with a small can of grey-blue paint. A few hours in the shop, a few nails, and some final touches, and it was done! Our new Cypress Café, just as you see it here today.

We had one last chat with Dub to plan the menu for today’s event, and now, here we are.

Eat, eat, and be merry!

That’s the story of how our café came to be. Now, after listening to me, I’m sure you’re more than ready to dig in. Eat up, everyone! We have eight varieties of nuts. We have seeds. We have corn. And, for you turtledoves and sparrows, chunks of good whole grain bread. There’s plenty of whatever you’re munching or pecking, and it’s all Grade A.

Welcome to the Cypress Café.