Push & Pour — Restaurant in Garden City

Push & Purrfect – A Catpuccino Review from Two California Cats 🐾🌿☕🥪

As two seasoned California cats with a refined paw-late, we recently clawed our way into Push & Pour for a meow-nificent brunch—and let’s just say, it was the cat’s meow!

First up: the latte. Creamy, bold, and with just the right hiss of espresso—this cup had more depth than a cardboard box fortress. We lapped it up like true catpuccino connoisseurs. The foam art? A paw-sitively purrfect heart. 10/10 would stick our whiskers in again.

Then came the spicy egg sandwich—and me-WOW. That thing had more kick than a startled kitten! We weren’t kitten around with the jalapeño-laced flavor explosion. It was a toasty, melty, spicy cuddle of a meal—like napping in a sunbeam with a Tabasco tail. We were hissing and purring in the same bite.

And last but not least: the matcha. Earthy, balanced, and green enough to make our favorite catnip bush jealous. It was like sipping on liquid serenity while perched on a warm windowsill in San Luis Obispurr. Basil especially purred at the umami notes—it matched his fur-titude.

Final verdict? Push & Pour is the catpuccino capital of Idaho. Whether you’re a laid-back NorCal fluffball or a spice-loving SoCal stray, this café will have you feline fine. Don’t fur-get to tip your barista—with head boops and biscuits, obviously.

5/5 hairballs. Would return in a...

Every visit begins with the same sacred duel—the unspoken coffee-shop rock-paper-scissors. Do I lead with a greeting? Wait for theirs? Go all in and order immediately? I lose every time, yet never feel like a fool. That’s the quiet genius of Push & Pour: ✨functional indifference✨—radical non-judgment achieved through ambient ambivalence.

That same energy extends to the bathroom. Hiding in plain sight, its door is a portal for the initiated. If you know, you know. If you don’t, you keep sipping your oat latte, pretending you don’t have to pee because admitting it would shatter the illusion of composure. The entrance offers zero anonymity—no hallway, no buffer, no pretense.

Waiting for that single door—vying for clues to its status, playing that flirtatious game of eye tag with other patrons—demands a kind of civic courage, a brief plunge into vulnerable, egalitarian chaos. It’s democracy, in its purest form.

It’s not a bathroom that invites you to linger, and that’s exactly why it works. A quick reset. A mirror check. A micro-existential crisis. Then back to the grind. Use it for anything more and, frankly, you belong...

I came in for the first time on Sunday with my nieces, one of whom happens to be 5 and disabled. Sometimes she makes noises or does things a non disable child might, normally no big deal and people are understanding. I waited in line for about 10-15 minutes, not a huge deal, it was sunnny and warm. I got up to the counter and my niece pushed a chair and it made a noise. Keep in mind this placed is packed and bustling and the music is turned up LOUD, it’s a little chaotic to begin with. The barista says to me very rudely, “Can she NOT do that”. It was extremly rude and I called him out on it. Another thing to keep in mind, is this location is absolutely not accessible for disabled persons. Also only one entrance so a lot of gathering close together in line and congestion. I won’t be back to support a business that isn’t mindful of those with disabilities. The customer service is severely lacking. It really is too bad because the coffee was good which is why I...