Since taking independence in 1991, Kazakhstan has not only prospered economically but opened its doors to some of the best of what the Western world has to offer. The southern capital, Almaty, is not only a brain-centre of the Kazakh economic revolution but a place of leisure for well over a million people, many of whom are content to spend some of their free time simply chilling out in a café.
Anybody resident here for more than a few years will have noticed the outcome of the café revolution that has redefined leisure time in this thriving post-Soviet state. People living here for more than a decade or so will have seen it happen. Heading back a step further, even to 2005, only a handful of quality establishments were operating; such has it all changed, and some of the surprise foreigners express at the modernity of the culture savours of latent yet endearing verdancy – all with a forgivable tinge of innocence.
As with any self-renewing economy, there will be some wastage. If nothing lasts forever, then neither does every small business, and the fact that shops and their fellow trading comrades sometimes close down is no more a sign of economic decay than somebody leaving a company for a better job is an indicator of impending boardroom doom.
What differentiates major Kazakh cities from, dare I even say it, many English towns in these by-now latter years of the 2020s is that when something closes down here, the premises don’t lie vacant for months or years condemning the entire town centre to a desolate alas-poor-Yorick atmosphere, no end in sight.
Instead, business space vacated by a departing outlet, or the like, is often promptly snapped up by a new occupier with either a vision or a menu. Or both.
The main area in Almaty, albeit without any one definitive city centre in the Western sense, is awash with what Brits might call coffee shops. Not shops that sell coffee, as such, depending on your definition, but lavish cafes with some of the best chill-out vibes anywhere between Berlin and Tokyo.
A recent Instagram post, by now irretrievably cascaded down my feed, expressed that very innocent verdant wonder as two American travellers recounted how the Almaty ‘coffee shop’ scene not only left them with a sense of amazement but also that the range of options here exceeded that of their home country. If ever there were a vote of confidence, American travel influencers rejoicing in your cafe scene has to rank high up the list.
But even though we all want clicks, they were so right.
A date that went pear-shaped in 2008 was my first experience of the scene here; in those days, one of just a couple of such destinations on the itinerary of the connoisseur I like to feel I was to become, and the original reflection of ‘nice place this’ evolved into a near 20-year love affair with a cafe in which I learned Kazakh, wrote four (wannabe) nationally-acclaimed books, and later on even did most of my online Georgian lessons in there.
Granted, back in the very early days of my Kazakh adventures I had fewer other options for a teapot of sencha, while today the hardest part can often be deciding where to go, more than what to order.
Walking through Almaty without passing such an establishment would be like walking through a British city without passing a pound shop, so in essence, any guide to them all is a major undertaking. What I can offer is an overview of a few have-to-tries, with the embarrassing disclaimer that I can’t stand coffee, so take it all with a pinch of whatever that powder they sprinkle over cappuccino is called. Let’s face it, no comprehensive cafe review of Almaty would arrive complete without crashing your server, so forgive me if I am biased and just bleat on about the places I personally prefer. All three of them.
Anywhere not on here could be incredibly good, I just don’t have time to go to them all. Note anyway that the amount of competition requires quality of any establishment wanting to survive. If they are still open, they are probably excellent.
Nedelka
Nedelka is a chain of Almaty coffee shops in which the young and energetic waiting staff wear the same identical olive green t-shirts and strategically swarm the tastefully-decorated interior with either genuine enthusiasm or extremely well-hidden exhaustion, even at the end of their shift.
Whoever is responsible for customer service in Nedelka probably trained with Yoda for ten years, because read customers’ minds they seem to do, and respond with a genuine-seeming smile every time you have to ask for something that doesn’t tick some convenient box on their can-do list. That, and sort it out for you promptly, too.
Ever-patient with the tiresome lone customers taking all day over one cup of green tea as the hordes of loyal customers pile in needing table space, not to mention their extensive menu of drinks and food all served by staff who seem to know English to decent levels, and even if you only go in to marvel at how un-kitsch the place is (every branch), then go in. There is something for everybody. Especially if you are into decor as much as decaf.
Noteworthy also are the tourists who eventually manage to make their order after looking round at how beautiful the setting is for quite some time and heap lavish praise on the waiters before remembering to look at the menu (available in English, too).
Traveler’s Coffee
Braving the American spelling of Travellers (and the misplacement of the apostrophe – that is unless they did only anticipate having one customer when they opened over a decade ago), this is a semi-frequent port of call and handy in the sense that they too have a number of branches across the city.
Travellers’ are invariably nearly full most of the day, meaning that you can usually find a seat while knowing that people rate them highly enough to go again and again, the menu full of decent enough options for anybody. While being given an English menu after already ordering in Russian is mildly confusing, the gesture is understood and accepted as a sign that they are open to everybody.
Prices are fair, not the cheapest but certainly not the most expensive, and doubtless very reasonable for a market leader in a world-class city, and service is very well-intentioned.
New Bisquit Cafe
And the winner is…
This is the Harley-Davidson of Almaty cafes, not just because you can sit back and enjoy the ride but because its timeless class has seen it outlast many competitors over the 20+ years it has been open.
The very first of its kind in the city, it opened its doors in 2004 and was for a while practically impossible to get in after mid-afternoon because, before other entrepreneurs took the hint, it had next to no competition at all. Novelty factor has laid the foundation of many a lasting business over the years. As in, ‘we like this because it’s new’ smoothly graduates to ‘we like this because it’s good’.
As rival coffee shops have come and gone, Bisquit has rebranded slightly (as suggested by the adoption of the word ‘new’ to the name) but not needing to do any more than redecorate has meant that it outlasted the copycats whose time came and went, or whose contribution to the culture was extended courtesy of a fuller-scale rebrand. The risk of consequent unrecognisability and the strain it puts on customer loyalty isn’t a risk that Bisquit chanced to take, and the commitment has clearly paid off.
Another striking feature of New Bisquit is that some of the staff have worked there for years, not necessarily that they needed time to master the job, but meaning instead that the idea of permanence pervades more than the interior design.
New Bisquit is probably more of a place for people with a sweet tooth, lovers of coffee, and people who want the luxury of just relaxing without constant hassle from staff whose manager-driven desire to know that the customers are content just makes them seem insecure. If you are not one of these people, check this link, as they can cater for you as well, I imagine.
Even though it no longer packs out from morning till night doesn’t mean it isn’t a much-loved destination, and probably still the best cafe in Almaty, all considered.
