A good coffee day…
It starts before the sun. Opening the shop is my time. The music is loud (Michael Jackson, pre – Neverland Ranch creepiness) while I wake up the machines. The Clover bubbles and snorts while going through its cleaning cycle; the Synesso clicks awake as I dial in the espresso. The ‘spro is creamy and sweet with those chocolate and cherry notes that always make me smile. The machines, the spro, and I are all happy little campers as the sun breaks open in the sky.
The first people I see this morning are regulars. I love regulars. They’re the five minute friend that, over the months, you get to know. As much as I like meeting new people, it’s my regulars that make being a barista such an awesome job.
The morning moves along. The milk is steaming like it wants to be latte art. For five months now I’ve been working on a Synesso and today we’re in synch like veteran dance partners. I was once told the art of espresso was to take the fallacy out of the barista. In other words, to create in the barista the precision of a machine. This day I was an extension of the machine.
The day moves on. Washington’s primary is this week and my shop is filling with Clinton and Obama stumpers. The strategizing and planning in intense low tones is beginning to drown out the Curtis Mayfield coming out of the speakers behind me. I lower the stereo and listen in on all the political discourse swirling around. I’m not a politico; I guess it’s never really interested me all that much, but I started thinking about the rich history coffee shops and politics share. Mainly my mind went back to Boston’s Green Dragon, where a handful of forward thinking capitalists came up with the ballsy, and dangerous, idea of starting their own country. In that moment the weight of two centuries of my country’s history settles around me. For the span of a couple of heartbeats I can truly appreciate how coffee has helped shape societies.
Then I had lunch. BBQ is one of the finest expressions of love that I know.
In the afternoon I hosted a coffee tasting. Four coffees- For an hour I get a captive audience listening to me babble about a true love. I love educating people about coffee. The idea that these cherry pits will be meticulously tended, cherished, and picked; then travel thousands of miles to end up in my hands… the soil to cup chain is something that still takes my breath away. At one point I start talking about how coffee farmers in Central and South America have had to contend with civil unrest that sees them not as people but merely an economic weapon to be exploited or destroyed. I try to impress upon my attentive group the fact that coffee isn’t just a job or a commodity for these people but one of the defining characteristics of their culture…
The day winds down with an art opening. It’s one of our regulars showing her art for the first time. She’s nervous, but her friends and family show up; showering her with praise. Nibbling on some brie and crackers, I watch the tension leave her shoulders when her boyfriend shows up with a bouquet of roses.
It was a good coffee day…