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JERICHO CAFE on Walton Street in Oxford, England is my new great escape. It would seem a summer in England would be plenty escape enough, but I'm somehow still neck deep in Americans and wading thick through international store chains...hazards of any popular city, I guess. Most of the people pounding the pavement downtown this time of the year are tourists (they pinball wizardly in and out of university courtyards, but they're just taking pictures...don't be fooled). However, a skip and a jump off Cornwall Street and up Walton will give you Jericho. It's an architectural garden of brick and grilled fences, dramatically pitched roofs, and bright front doors that all shout for a visit. Vibrant, like the young and impossibly hip neighbors that set up camp in this up-and-coming crook of Oxford, Jericho strings an artistic attention through all of its institutions: from the post office to the penny thrift store to The Grog Shop. The cafe is no exception...

A warm red awning and big glass windows are as cheerful as the staff working counter who playfully explain to me the difference between french fries and chips (thought they were always the latter in England, and I was worried I was being patronized...but no). Conversation darts to the weather, then quickly to green, open spaces, then English food and agricultural growing traditions. I've noticed that whether you're talking ale or use of the Oxford comma, Brits love to walk you through conversation to an impromptu history lesson. Too many years spent contemplative in parks; the casual chit-chat also seems to meander. But, even when they're wandering around in their thoughts, you get a sense the Jericho crowd is committedly conscientious.

In terms of food, vegetarian and vegan choices abound. Full meals and a drink list are thoughtfully served alongside simple coffee, pastries, and french fries (eponymously American when they're finely cut). And, in a truly unusual turn, you are not made to feel badly sitting for hours with only a two pound bill (roughly four dollars). Coffee and conversation are long at this coffee-shop-turned-restaurant. And, although "Jericho" is usually thought of as the final word in The Book of Numbers, numbers are not on the mind here at this formal, informal cafe. Prices are reasonable, at a glance, and then exalting when you see the size of your order: my goats cheese salad was explained pretty modestly, but when it arrived (quite quickly) I had a full, warm mini-wheel of cheese with enough colorful veggies to give Jericho doors a run for their money. Best to split whatever you want with a date.

Seating upstairs and down allows patrons plenty of light-filled space. And the place always seems just busy enough. People swing in and out of the front door to visit with friends and dodge the sunshowers that come through hourly. But before you strike up easy conversation with an itinerant hipster, visit the bathroom and dispense yourself a "chewable toothbrush." You're in Britain, remember the dental hygiene.