Maybe time for an update?

Well, it has been a long time. We moved over to Wordpress a couple of years ago, had some trouble over ownership rights (which, had I been more patient, could have been entirely avoided), and basically shut down the blogging aspect of BFC&T. The last post, which is still up on our website (which is "under construction" for the umpteenth month in a row), was loving towards our neighbors, but a bit snarky towards industry folks. I cannot remember the reason for the snark, but, industry folks, if you're still out there, I do apologize. One thing that happened was our roaster (the machine) caught fire. This led to my burnout on pretty much all things coffee. I just wasn't interested in doing anything with it -- which is problematic when you own a coffee shop. I kept the status quo, handed off the roasting to a trust associate, did some baking, kept on teaching at the local college, and went to seminary (plus had another kid). I kept busy, but I always had this nagging suspicion that I should care, really care, about what I was doing. But I couldn't bring myself to that point: the damage, I thought, had been done; I just needed to look for my exit, preferably into academia. Funny thing is I found out that burnout comes wherever you're at. The trick isn't finding the "thing" that keeps you satisfied at all times, whether in love or work or play, but to push through, to take some breaks and refresh, and to actually love whatever it is that you put your hands to. Now, when I say "love," I don't mean some sort of passionate engagement: anyone who has loved knows that there are times when the emotions, the excitement, and the drive just aren't there. Real love, though, can blossom in those times: "Love isn't blind" as Chesterton says in Orthodoxy, "Love is bound; and the more bound it is, the less blind." We bind ourselves to things (interestingly enough, 'binding' in this sense is behind the word 'religion') no matter what circumstances and we seek to do them justice and to encourage and enable their flourishing. Passion will, from time to time, arise in that context: but it is by no means the foundation, nor the main driving energy. Rather, a sense of commitment, boundedness, is. It took me too long to remember that. But here I am...and the burnout has passed. It took a long time, but it is gone. I'm tired, certainly, but a little fatigue is nothing when you are committed. I'm back at roasting, I'm back at working on the details of brewing (the details, in the end, are what I love the most), I'm attempting to not totally fail as a manager and employer, and I'm looking forward to what the shop, and this community, can do. It is good to be home.

What Should We Call Ourselves?

Note: All opinions expressed on this blog are the thoughts of the writers and do not necessarily reflect BFC&T policy or official opinion, although you can be sure that we go back and forth about them constantly.

Jake has been in an interesting conversation over at Barista Exchange which can be found here, concerning coffeeshops and "working class" culture. Some parts of the discussion, from the perspective of a coffeeshop owner in a largely working class area, are disturbing--especially Jake's comment about McD's having a better shot at establishing an "Italian" coffee presence precisely because they aren't a coffeeshop and don't pretend to be (see the "Fratalian" Dunkin Donuts ads). That discussion informs this post/rant, but I don't want to post it there--I'm already involved in more forums than I should be.

If some of the problems associated with all of this revolve around language, then I think we should rethink our terms. I agree with Luke at 21st Street Coffee & Tea that our language should have concrete referents--in other words, a cappucino should refer to an Italian capp, just as a croissant always refers to a croissant, never to a scone. Within that linguistic space, though, there is considerable room for interpretation: good capps and undrinkable capps, croissants light and flaky, pan chocolate, etc. This, of course, is not easy and we still offer (and will for the foreseeable future) a 12oz capp. However, that doesn't mean we don't think about it and haven't encouraged some customers to try a 6oz for here capp. This argument, though, has been ably rehearsed elsewhere and isn't my main concern tonight. My main concern is what we call ourselves: barista.

For the record, I like the term. It is elegant and sets our industry apart from others. However, it is a lot like opera: for the Italians opera is in the vernacular, for us it is high-brow and unintelligble without an interpreter (and even that is no guarantee). When opera is done in English, historically at least, it hasn't been regarded as nearly as high an art form--the irony is terrible, but such is life. For this reason, I don't think barista is a good term for all coffeeshop employees to use, especially in areas where that sort of linguistic boundary marker is off-putting. Not to mention that if McD personnel are going to be calling themselves barista, then the word is so cheapened as to have lost meaning altogether, so why use it?

Instead, may I propose that we gravitate towards the term 'craftsman' (or craftsperson, if you like). In the specialty coffee industry, we often emphasize that the better shops do treat the position of barista as a craft: respect for tools, for materials, a constant betterment of product, presentation, and service. However, we rarely, if ever, look at the other crafts to see how they handle themselves and what they do. There are master carpenters, plumbers, electricians, bakers, chefs, and the list could go on. Rarely, at least with the construction trades, do we see the level of bravado and snobbery that we see with many so-called barista. The folks that I have worked with in these trades (for that is my work background--food and construction) are humble about what they do, letting the product speak for itself as a showcase of work, talent, and the pursuit of beauty (and a paycheck). Certainly, there are characters, there are cads, and there are pricks, but the level of self-overestimation is lower on the radar.

If a coffeeshop is to find itself reaching a working class clientele (and I find no reason to assume that the working class wouldn't appreciate good coffee, good surroundings, and good food expertly prepared), then it must embrace something along these 'craftsman' lines. This doesn't mean, by the way, a cheapening of quality: a shoddy building is despised, good tools are looked upon with pride by the user and envy by others--so there is plenty of room for excellent coffee prepared on excellent equipment. The problem is that, as one of the posters on the BX states, "quality is overrated". The coffee industry operates with most coffee, regardless of origin or preparation, tasting basically the same--the differences are "nuances" or "shades", hardly a convincing argument to ask people to shell over $4 more for a similar product to what they are used to. I don't think this problem is intractable, though. I've talked to many people here who can't drink coffee anywhere else anymore, because we've "ruined" them. I know I certainly cannot drink the local gas station coffee anymore, it just tastes disgusting (and they have the same equipment as us).

Which brings me to the idea of "just" coffee. We hear it all the time, "I just want a coffee". It is almost like good coffee carries the stigma of hubris, of transcending one's boundaries in a sinful way, so that anything associated with the "latte lappers" (as one local radio personality puts it) is trying to be better than your roots, as if it is a cultural slap in the face to tradition and propriety. We rob ourselves if we think anything is "just" anything. Humankind wasn't meant to live with substandard things, whether food or tools or dwellings. That doesn't mean we should all be elitist or aim for hubris, but we shouldn't lock ourselves into thinking that because something is quality, is good, is tasty without cream and sugar but still tasty with, that is necessary "above us". It isn't. Good coffee comes from humble origins and only through hard work, attention to detail, and a lot of sweat and tears can it reach a level fit for human consumption. Whether you are working class or a Brahmin, you should fight to have coffee treated so well.

I find a lot of hope in the working class culture (from which I spring) that I don't see in the "upper crust". But we've let ourselves be deluded into thinking that our way of life shouldn't be beautiful--because we've let others set the terms of debate. It is time for "unsnobby" coffee, but not from an industrial swill factory, whether the largest national chain of coffeeshops or fast food joints. There is too much to lose if coffee isn't looked at as a trade to be enjoyed and appreciated.

Passion for the bean

This weekend impressed, once again, in my mind why we roast and try to roast well:

Because we can. But even more importantly, because we should.

I suffer (or, better yet, my wife suffers because of me) from a sinusoidal polarity in my personality. I ascend to extreme ups, only to crash into (wasteful) periods of unrelenting depression. The frequency is so high, though, that I don't spend a whole lot of time in the middle, where productivity happens. This post, for better or worse, is on an uptrend day (last night, not so much).

Ever since we left CoffeeFest (but not DC, John Carpenter hasn't let us out yet), I've been itching to pull shots and to roast. I've devised a few drinks I want to try, a few roasting experiments (what about beans with vastly different roast dates in a blend--properly aged post-roast of course), and we are hosting our first ever latte art party tomorrow night at the C&T (come one, come all). All I can think of, though, is the one off-coffee we cupped at Aldo's sometime back--the acrid taste of cigarettes and turpentine (Erik's description). Turned out to be a mass brand that a lot of people in the area drink, including some customers of mine that like to drink ours in-house, but don't have the budget to drink ours at home. Couple that with the surprised looks I've invariably gotten from folks when I tell them that the best-tasting cup of coffee I've ever had was from a decaf Sumatra right off the roast (and medium at that!).

It all reminds me that I love what I'm doing. If anything ever goes south here in the Falls, I'm going to search around till I find something in the coffee world that lets me continue to push my own envelope and bring quality coffee to everyday folks (which I consider myself to be a part of). I want to take the gift that has been given to me by God, by farmers, by importers and do right by it. I want to coax the full potential out of the beans, both roasted and brewed. I'm beginning to see that this will require much more out of me than I initially thought (I only work 92 hours a week as it is now). Seeing the beautiful stemware (especially that of Sonja from Aldo) used in competition made me want to further differentiate my drinks: dessert, morning, lunch, and all-the-time. Imagine the Canaan Conquest (a latte with honey, vanilla, and a little cinnamon) as a con panna or an affogato--beautiful!

Everything done to the glory of God, a motto, a mantra that I've tried to live by, but have had trouble defining "glory". A least here, with this work, I'm seeing shades of meaning blossoming: full flavor and aroma, presented beautifully, prepared respectfully from growing to brewing. There is a reason that organizations like the SCAA exist and people dedicate their lives to this field: the chance to be human here is high, the possibilities exciting, and the community enlivening. Cheers.

BFCAT vs. The World

In many ways I feel quite fortunate to be working at a place like BFCAT (yes, I refuse to include the "i" as I feel it is unnecessary and causes too much confusion). First and foremost: it's a well known fact that only the coolest people can work in coffee shops (see: Russ, Jason and myself. I rest my case.) Second, I get free drinks. I am personally well-acquainted with several people who would shed innocent blood for this kind of perk. Third, well, Russ summed it up pretty nicely with his previous post about Mr. DeFerio's article.

But fourth and finally, I love the big picture behind it all.

Beaver Falls is not known for making good first impressions. A number of Geneva College students leave with negative feelings towards this town and maybe those negative feelings are warranted. Afterall, Beaver Falls does not offer much in terms of a night life, or a cultural district, or a music scene, or... well... you get the idea. The simple fact remains that Beaver Falls is downright depressing. Are you going to tell me I'm wrong?

Like many Americans I am good at figuring out the problem, but what do you do next?

Sadly, the answer seems to be, more often than not, "Not much." We assess the problem, then promptly shake our heads as if to say, "What can you do?" and proceed with our lives that probably exist well outside the realm of Beaver County. It's an arduous task to find people willing to tackle the problems of a depressed city when they have bills of their own, mortgages to pay, work to be done, lawns to be mowed... And besides, what can one man do?

This is where places like BFCAT come in. On the surface of BFCAT is a place where students come to study, mothers come to meet, good coffee is served and "baristas" work on their latte "art". But if you ask Russ or Bethany you'll find there's more going on here. You see, BFCAT is ideally just the beginning: the beginning of many shops that add character to a community, that focus on service as an act of worship, that want to promote relationships, that want to instill a bit of pride in a town that desperately needs it. Hopefully, BFCAT is an inspiration that, with the help of projects like City House and places like Pine Valley Bible Camp, will foster the type of love and dedication that give people a respect for the place where they live. People in Beaver Falls need to know they live in a unique place. They need to know their community is worth effort and hard work. They need to know that if they're willing then they'll find others who are willing too. Otherwise they are left to wallow in self-pity while things cease to change.

Want to talk about it more? Come find us at the coffee shop.

It's a lofty goal, but one worth striving towards. Could it be possible that a cup of coffee leads to a prosperous community? Only time will tell.