Creación de un ambiente propicio para el Aprendizaje

Ziferblat’s foodways, originating from Treehouse, consist of the three underlying elements: brewing/drinking (tea or coffee), cooking/eating, and dishwashing. In what follows, I will discuss how these practices are organised in different branches and how they have been developing over the course of 2010–2017.

5.3.1.1. Treehouse

In Treehouse, each guest could make themselves a cup or a pot of tea, coffee or hot chocolate. At the very beginning, the only drink-making appliance available was a kettle but soon a small (one-group) manual coffee machine got added on. After

Alymkulova joined Mitin in running the space (as she recalls in a Treehouse Vkontakte post, ‘When I first came here, nobody greeted me, it felt like a snobbish design studio’), she made sure that every guest was met warmly; quite often newcomers were treated to hot beverages by her and Mitin, acting as the hosts of the house; many guests later reminisced about such moments as especially ‘heartwarming’ (Treehouse, n.d.). Those regulars who knew how to operate the coffee machine were keen on teaching others. Among eatables, Treehouse provided breakfast cereals and sometimes toast, biscuits, jams, spreads, and candies, although, as one of the ex-regulars recalled, ‘we did not really have any “purchasing plan”; every time we ran out of something, someone would just grab some money from the donation box and go do the groceries’ (interview, July 2016). In general, guests were expected and encouraged to bring their own food, preferably in shareable quantities, which many of them did, and/or leave a donation comparable to the cost of a cup of coffee or tea in a cafe. They could also use the microwave, the toaster, and the hot plate to cook.

What remains relatively unclear is how dishwashing was organised in Treehouse. According to the house rules posted in its Vkontakte group, guests ‘could’ wash up after themselves but it seems that this job was mostly being done by the regulars; some visitors posted angry comments on ‘piles of dirty mugs in the sink’, whereas others reflected on how passionate they were about washing their own and other people’s dishes here, despite hating doing it at home (Treehouse, n.d.).

5.3.1.2. Pokrovka

The first Ziferblat differed from Treehouse in two ways. First, it had an open-plan kitchenette and a counter with a more sophisticated three-group coffee machine. Second, the relationships between the owners and the guests were formalised by the pay-per-minute scheme. Formalisation also manifested itself in the appearance of the

paid staff members called helpers, or hosts, whose responsibilities included greeting guests, explaining the house rules to them, showing them around, clocking them in and out, maintaining the space and operating the coffee machine.

In 2014, Mitin decided to remove the counter and turn the coffee machine around, so that everyone could make their coffee themselves, learning from a host or teaching other guests (figure 7); this policy was supposed to do away with the service

framework, turn consumption into participation and encourage more social interactions. In their 2016–2017 interviews, Moscow hosts still excitedly discussed this decision as revolutionary and progressive, which ran contrary to my observations, suggesting that in most cases guests ask hosts to make coffee for them rather than make it

themselves. As Gleb, Ziferblat Worldwide’s CTO, noted, ‘It came down a little bit. Maybe we should encourage it more… on the other hand, it is less trouble when we do it for them. But if someone wants to learn, we are always happy to teach’ (interview, Pokrovka, July 2016). Apart from coffee, guests can make their own tea in the kitchenette—this process is more straightforward and therefore does not require any assistance from staff.

Figure 7. ‘Social’ coffee machine in Pokrovka Photo taken by the author, July 2016

Over the course of 2013–2016, Pokrovka has been gradually moving towards

professionalisation; as Alymkulova reminisced, ‘At the beginning, it was like a friend’s pad—nothing special [in terms of food and drinks], but really fun. Then we have

improved a lot… events, design, coffee and biscuits quality, everything’ (interview, July 2016). At some point, hosts started to wear disposable gloves and use tongs to refill the bowls with biscuits and nuts. Although Mitin and the rest of the team have

repeatedly expressed irritation at those referring to Ziferblat as a coffeeshop or a cafe, they attached great importance to the quality of coffee offered in Ziferblat. In his media interviews (e.g., Gurova, 2012), Mitin would typically emphasise that they use only

coffeeshops, unlike ‘cheap stuff’ offered in other anti-cafes (in reality, however, many of them adopted these high standards very soon; some even hired professional baristas). It was agreed that Pokrovka guests can get ‘ZiferCoffee’ to go for a small fee, which later became standard for the whole Ziferblat chain.

In terms of cooking, Pokrovka’s guests can heat their own food in the microwave, although it is placed in such a way that it does not catch a newcomer’s eye

immediately, which is probably why it is not used very often; the fridge is even more hidden and, given its small size, is almost exclusively used by the staff. Those regulars who feel confident about the space, sometimes use the hot plate to make themselves a meal (one remarkable example from my ethnography was a girl who brought some frozen dumplings, cooked them, put them into a plastic container and left as she was rushing to catch her train).

Dishwashing, initially organised as a self-service practice—guests were encouraged to wash their dishes after themselves; those volunteering to wash larger amounts of dishes were typically rewarded with free minutes—has since undergone a significant transformation. During my ethnography, I still happened to see many guests washing up or at least leaving their dishes in the sink; some enthusiasts would wash what was left by other customers, but whenever they (or I) asked the hosts, ‘Should I wash up?’, they typically answered slightly reluctantly: ‘Well, if you feel up to it…’. As one of them explained, ‘It just turned out that some people don’t wash it properly, so we decided not to push it. If you washed up—good, you might get some free minutes for that. But if you didn’t, we are okay with that’ (Nikita, interview, July 2016). Apart from the option of manual dishwashing, Pokrovka has a dishwashing machine, used only by the staff. As the first anti-cafe in the world, Pokrovka immediately faced the problem of hungry guests who wanted some more substantial and/or healthy food options on top of sweets but were not keen on cooking. The team has made several attempts to improve this situation (e.g., salad tubs provided by a partner cafe and sold in Ziferblat at a cost price in 2012; pop-up cafe where the guests could eat healthy food cooked in Ziferblat by professional chefs and pay by donations in 2017), but those were only temporary solutions. Other anti-cafes tried to address this problem by providing additional options at extra cost (salads, soups, sandwiches, burgers, pizzas, sushi, fresh juice, or even set lunches) or offering delivery discount for orders from partner cafes. The latter model has eventually become a standard—presumably, as the least problematic in terms of licensing and logistics. When a non-Ziferblat anti-cafe ownerOleg Voronov came to Pokrovka in 2016, after a few years since his first visit, he wrote a blog post about how he was surprised by the ‘non-stop cooking’ happening there (meaning the

hot plate usage) and stressed that it makes the venue ‘feel like a crash pad, which might freak out some customers and therefore reduce the profit’.165 _{Ziferblat team, on}

their part, has never been at ease with commercialised food consumption in their domain. As Nikita told me, in 2016 they got an offer from a local cafe chain that wanted to sell their sandwiches in Pokrovka branch, which caused many doubts: ‘I’m not quite sure if it fits into our culture, we need to discuss it with Ivan. Ziferblat is a space where everything is free, except the time… not even time but… everyone shares the rent, like co-tenants’166 _{(interview, July 2016).}

5.3.1.3. Tverskaya

Tverskaya’s ‘tricky’ (as both staff and guests call it) design—two floors, multiple rooms, a very cramped hall and a tiny kitchen, hidden at the backstage—affects local

foodways, leaving very little room for participation and DIY experience. A coffee

machine is similar to that of Pokrovka but it is operated by the hosts, who stand behind the counter and make drinks on demand, which is visually indistinguishable from a typical coffeehouse layout. Those rare enthusiasts who want to make their coffee themselves are sometimes let behind the counter but only on very rare occasions when it is not too crowded; there are also three self-service tea-making stations at the far side of the hall, in the ‘lecture room’ and on the mezzanine floor.

The food offer in Tverskaya is exactly the same as it is in Pokrovka—a few varieties of biscuits and nuts. Apart from that, there is a microwave and a hot plate in the kitchen but this room is very unlikely to be found by a newcomer without asking specifically. This is also the reason why dishes in this branch are typically collected and washed by the hosts, though there is an internal—according to my observations, often neglected— rule recommending that if a guest walks in the kitchen, intending to wash their dishes, and bumps into a host who is doing the same, the latter should stop (even if the sink is full) and give the former ‘a chance to participate’ (Maya, branch manager, interview, July 2016). Just like in Pokrovka, Tverskaya’s fridge and dishwasher are used only by the staff.

5.3.1.4. Old Street

Old Street’s kitchen is a relatively small (bigger than Tverskaya) separate room, equipped with a kettle, a microwave, a toaster, a one-group coffee machine, and a fridge (one shelf is marked as ‘shared’, for the food provided by the venue and those guests who want to ‘top-up the Zifer-stocks or donate their unwanted snacks’, and

another one as ‘private’, for individual snacks and meals one can keep there). As compared to other branches, it looks very shabby (tattered cabinets and appliances, non-matching dishes). Since Old Street does not make much profit and, therefore, their budget is always limited, the amount and quality of food provided is relatively scarce, though in the peak season (between mid-autumn and mid-spring) one would always find here a few varieties of biscuits, toast, spreads, cereals, and some fruit. In the summertime, when the attendance rate drops dramatically, some hosts specifically encourage guests to participate in food supply:

When someone goes: ‘Oh, there’s no fruit’, I just go: ‘Well, we actually didn't break even last months, so we can't afford it, but if you ever have any fruit to donate, or if you know anyone who has fruit to donate, or if you can leave something in the donations jar, that’ll be amazing’. (Sara, interview, August 2016)

In terms of general attitude, this venue is the least professionalised of all existing Ziferblats, which makes it very similar to Treehouse. One would often find there a roll of toilet tissue used as a kitchen towel; unlike in Moscow branches, staff do not use disposable gloves when setting the snacks and do not seem too perfectionist about the quality of dishwashing.167 _{Although many people bring their own food to Old Street,}

cooking (apart from making toast and salads) is less common in this venue, as it does not have a hot plate. Most guests wash their dishes before leaving but sometimes, especially after big events, it is done by the hosts. When Old Street had just been opened, some media reported on the guests volunteering to wash other guests’ mugs (Allen 2014; Campbell 2014), but by the time of my ethnography this enthusiasm seemed to have worn off.

5.3.1.5. Edge Street

Contrastingly, Edge Street’s open-plan kitchen is an extremely clean and shiny space, well-equipped with neatly labelled cupboards, easy-to-use automatic coffeemakers with Monin syrups (typically offered in chain coffeeshops); a fridge, stuffed with milk,

yoghurt, pop and squash; a few kettles, a microwave, a toastie maker, a mini-oven and a dishwasher; plain white crockery and branded Ziferblat mugs; and a large breakfast bar laden with plenty of sweet and savoury food and even dog treats. According to the ZUKI’s COO, this kitchen was intended to be ‘ergonomic’ so that ‘[it wouldn’t] take too long to make a cup of tea’ (Gareth, interview, October 2016). Such a design, along with the massive rate of the customer turnover typical for this branch, makes its kitchen look and feel like a constantly restocked buffet where people swiftly fill their glasses, mugs,

167 _{Unlike in the other three branches, Old Street’s cups and mugs have long-standing tea and coffee}

stains, which creates the atmosphere of a carelessly maintained office or shared accommodation kitchen rather than a cafe.

and plates and head to their seats, making way for other customers. Remarkably, many guests do all the above-mentioned while wearing their coats and backpacks, as if they were standing in line at some fast-food restaurant, which is very rare in other Ziferblats.

Like in other branches, Edge Street’s guests can bring their own food and/or eat the food provided by the venue; at one point, they could also use a partner discount in Deliveroo. What makes this Ziferblat so different from the other three is not only the amount of food offered here but also the fact that many guests come to Edge Street

only to eat, using it as a cost-effective breakfast/lunch/afternoon tea place, and leave immediately after finishing their meal. That said, even those who choose to stay longer, engaging in non food-related activities, demonstrated quite a strong consumptive attitude in their interviews, discussing their Ziferblat experience primarily in terms of value for money (e.g., ‘It’s definitely cheaper than a cafe, you get a lot more’;168 _{‘When I}

come here, I tend to always think: I need to make it worthy, so I eat as much as I can. Maybe it’s expensive… It depends on how much time do you spend’).169

Another difference is that dishwashing in Edge Street is framed as a part of the financial agreement between the venue and its customers rather than a participative practice; this condition is articulated by the hosts every time they greet a newcomer and explain the rules to them first presenting them what they have to offer (‘Help yourself to the kitchen goodies… everything is included’) and then concluding with ‘All we ask is to clean up after yourself when you leave. Just put your dishes in the

dishwasher or wash them [in the sink]’. Like in other branches, this rule is often ignored by guests.

In a nutshell, the most striking distinction between this branch and other Ziferblats is that everything in Edge Street revolves around food. When I asked the branch

manager how Ziferblat changes throughout the day, her answer was entirely structured around the kitchen maintenance, i.e., restocking it with ‘continental breakfast, like croissants and melon and cereals’ until 11 a.m., then ‘cakes and fruit, a less breakfasty bar but not quite lunch-time’, then more savoury lunch options (soups, jacket potatoes, salads, paninis, and quiches), and then finally afternoon tea and cakes (Tracey, interview, November 2016). This food-centred approach manifested itself not only in my observations and staff and guests’ interviews, but also in online ethnography. In their social media accounts, Edge Street’s team regularly posts photos of the food offered in the venue (e.g., ‘We have home made rocky road made by host Mairi! New

jam tarts & chocolate chip cupcakes yummy!’); furthermore, despite being very clear (when asked directly in the interviews) about the fact that Ziferblat is not a cafe, they apply for many awards intended for cafes and often win (e.g., Innovation Award in the Cafe Life Awards 2016; Good Food Award 2017).

In summary, the history of Ziferblat, viewed through the lens of its foodways, reads as an initial leap from consumption to participation and a gradual shift back. As the project has been scaling up, the profit-driven logic of financial sustainability required greater quality, a more professional approach, larger venues, and, consequently, faster rhythms, while the room for participation shrank. For instance, even if Tverskaya or Edge Street wanted to engage their guests in participative coffee-making practices, that would immediately disrupt the space with long queues of customers waiting to make their drinks. However, despite all these transformations, Ziferblat still remains an intricate assemblage of different socio-spatial frameworks, which results in quite controversial power dynamics between staff and customers and brings about some serious problems of a legal nature, both of which will be discussed further.

5.3.2. (Dis)empowered by food: the analysis of Ziferblat’s food politics

As it has been mentioned in previous sections and chapters, Mitin envisioned Ziferblat as a space where the traditional power dynamic between staff and customers would be deconstructed: the former would no longer be serving the latter, who, in their turn, would get more control over the space; as a result, both sides would be empowered. However, the alternative frameworks that he came up with—or, rather, the power dynamics underlying these frameworks—do not exactly correspond with this ethos. The first of them, ‘hosts and guests’, albeit promising warmer and more genuine hospitality than one would find in a cafe, assumes that it is Ziferblat’s teams who have the

privilege to set the house rules, which their guests should follow. The second one, ‘micro-tenants’, is even more misleading, as in reality Ziferblat’s staff act like a more established tenant, subletting the space on a short-term lease, if not the landlord. The following quote is a perfect example of how these two models get mixed up and how the former swallows the latter: ‘I always tell [the customers] that, in fact, they are our guests. We—the hosts—treat them to coffee and tea, and they can help us. It’s like a lease rather than a business—you rent the space by the minute’ (Boris, Tverskaya’s