The 2026 World Cup runs across three time zones, which means matches from the eastern seaboard kick at 9am, noon, and sometimes 3pm. You could watch from a Manhattan sports bar with bottomless mimosas and tourists in replica jerseys, or you could walk down Steinway Street between 28th Avenue and Astoria Boulevard where Egyptian, Moroccan, and Tunisian cafes have been streaming football for decades. The difference: here they pour mint tea from height, the shisha coals glow orange by 10am, and the commentary comes in Arabic with neighborhood elders providing real-time tactical analysis louder than any broadcast booth.
The Pre-Match Ritual at Al-Safa Cafe
You arrive at Al-Safa on the corner of Steinway and 28th Avenue ninety minutes before kickoff. The owner, who everyone calls Abu Hamza though that's not on any paperwork, unlocks the side door at 7:30am on match days and props it open with a wooden wedge that's been there since 2018. The main entrance stays locked until 9am—this is the insider move. Early arrivals get the corner banquette near the window where you can see both screens and the street. Abu Hamza brews the first pot of shai bil na'na himself, using a specific ratio he won't share but involves fresh mint from the produce stand three doors down that opens at 6am. The tea arrives in small glasses with at least three sugar cubes on the saucer. You're expected to use all three. By 8:15am the tables fill with men in work clothes who've shifted their schedules, plus a handful of younger regulars who work remote and bring laptops they never open.
Ordering Breakfast the Steinway Way
The breakfast menu exists in laminated form but nobody uses it. You order ful medames with extra lemon and tahini, specify you want the feta on the side not mixed in, and ask for the bread "fresh not toasted" which means they send someone's nephew to the bakery two blocks east on 31st Avenue. This takes twenty minutes but the bread arrives warm in a plastic bag, steam still visible when they tear it open. The ful comes in a shallow bowl, the fava beans swimming in olive oil with cumin seeds floating on top. You also get a plate of sliced cucumbers, tomatoes, and pickled turnips that are aggressively pink and vinegary enough to cut through the oil. The regulars order baladi cheese—a white cheese that doesn't appear on menus but lives in a container under the counter, charged at $4 cash only. If Egypt plays, Abu Hamza brings out complimentary basbousa at halftime, but only if they're winning or the match is tied.
The Shisha Politics of Match Day
Shisha service starts at 9am sharp, never earlier, because of a neighborhood agreement from 2019 that nobody can quite explain but everyone respects. The fruit-flavored tobacco sits in glass jars behind the counter—double apple, grape, mint—but the serious watchers order zahrat, a floral blend that tastes like rose water and doesn't overwhelm the senses when you're trying to focus on tactics. Each hookah costs $20 for the match duration, coals refreshed without asking. The younger crowd tends toward grape mixed with mint. The older men stick to double apple and will share a single hookah between three people, passing the hose counterclockwise, never clockwise. Sitting at a shisha table without ordering one is acceptable if you're with someone who does, but sitting alone at a shisha table and ordering only tea marks you as either very new or very confident. The coal runner, a teenager named Mahmoud, circles every fifteen minutes checking heat levels and will judge your puffing technique silently but visibly.
When Morocco Plays Everything Changes
The Moroccan cafes—Tangier Lounge near 31st Avenue and Café Mogador's less-known cousin spot near the train—transform during Atlas Lions matches. The Moroccan community in Astoria runs deep but quiet until their team takes the field. Then Steinway Street becomes Casablanca for ninety minutes. Café Tangier's owner Driss props open both front doors regardless of temperature and the sound spills onto the sidewalk. They serve Moroccan mint tea here in the proper style, poured from two feet above the glass to create foam, and they'll keep refilling from the same pot until you physically leave. The pastry case fills with chebakia and sellou that Driss's sister makes in a commercial kitchen in Long Island City. During the 2022 World Cup when Morocco beat Spain on penalties, someone set off fireworks in the parking lot behind the building. The police came but didn't write tickets, just watched the replay on someone's phone and shook their heads at Spain's penalty attempts.
The N/W Train Soundtrack
The elevated N and W trains rumble past every eight to twelve minutes, close enough that the cafe windows rattle in their frames. First-timers find this jarring. Regulars have trained themselves to pause conversations during the loudest ten seconds, then resume mid-sentence without acknowledgment. During crucial match moments—penalty kicks, VAR reviews, last-minute corners—the timing of train passage becomes spiritually significant. A train passing during a penalty kick is considered bad luck for the kicker. A train passing right after a goal is good fortune. These beliefs have no basis in anything but they're observed strictly. The cafes closest to the elevated tracks—basically everything between 30th and 31st Avenues—offer a $2 discount on shisha orders, an unofficial compensation for the noise that nobody advertises but everyone knows about. You mention "train discount" when ordering and they nod.
The Halftime Changeover
Halftime brings a specific choreography. The shisha coals get changed. The tea gets refreshed. Someone always leaves to buy cigarettes from the bodega on the corner that sells Egyptian brands under the counter. The bathroom line forms immediately and moves slowly because there's only one bathroom and someone's always on their phone in there. This is when the tactical debates start in earnest. The older men speak in Arabic, gesturing at the screen, replaying controversial calls with hand movements. The younger crowd switches between English and Arabic mid-sentence, pulling up stats on phones, arguing about formations using sugar packets as players on the table. Abu Hamza sometimes weighs in from behind the counter, usually to dismiss modern football as too soft, too tactical, not enough "play from the heart" like the 1990s Egyptian league. Nobody agrees with him but nobody argues either. During halftime at Café Tangier, Driss plays Gnawa music low through the speakers, a brief interlude before the commentary resumes.
Practical Notes
Most Steinway cafes open around 8am on match days, earlier for crucial games. Al-Safa Cafe sits at 25-67 Steinway Street. Café Tangier is at 25-11 Steinway. Cash preferred everywhere though some take card for food, never for shisha. The N/W trains to Astoria Boulevard or 30th Avenue put you in the heart of it—walk south on Steinway from either stop. Parking exists in the municipal lot on 31st Avenue between Steinway and 31st Street, $3 for four hours. Most cafes don't take reservations but arriving 90 minutes before kickoff guarantees seating. Shisha service requires you order food or multiple drinks. Expect to spend $25-35 per person for breakfast, tea, and shisha. The cafes stay open through all three daily match windows during the group stage, closing only between 5-6pm for prayer and dinner prep.
Tags: #WorldCup2026 #AstoriaQueens #SteinwayStreet #LittleEgypt #ShishaCulture #NorthAfricanFood #NYCFootball #QueensEats #MintTeaMornings #MoroccanCafe #EgyptianCafe #AstoriaBlvd #FootballCulture #NYCInsider #WorldCupNYC
Sources consulted: fifa.com · espn.com · timeout.com
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