Right across from the market, which solves the kid problem. Bring a coffee and a blanket and let everyone wander.
Small-batch single-origin chocolate, tempered on-site by people who care a little too much. Get the 70% bar and a sample of whatever they're making that morning.
Tea, scones, and a quiet lunch in a back garden you'd swear is two states east. The Welsh rarebit is the move.
The margarita flight comes as four pours, picked by the bartender. The chips show up before you've opened the menu.
Saturday mornings on Evans Street, 9 to 1. Eighteen vendors in season, and the good cider guy is always near the back.
The breakfast canon. Order the eggs benedict, take a corner booth, and remember the line is the line after 10:30 on Saturday.