What Makes a Great Coffee Shop

A tale of two shops

In case you missed it, catch up with the last post: Norman Maclean on Teaching. Also, this little defense of black coffee (7 Reasons to Drink Black Coffee) is also a nice pairing with today’s post.

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Once upon a time, I was a regular at a local coffee shop (which will remain unnamed). I worked and read and sipped. I went a couple of times a week. They served excellent coffee. Oftentimes, Cassie and I would begin our Saturday mornings there. The shop was part of our weekly rhythms, and we were loyal patrons.

But something was wrong. At first, I couldn’t articulate the problem. It just hung there, right beyond my reach. Then one day—unsummoned—the realization struck.

I walked up and ordered my usual, a black coffee. I looked at the two baristas. I knew that they recognized me. How could they not? I’d seen them every week for a year. And yet, when I ordered, there wasn’t a hint of recognition. Perhaps there was some small flicker behind glossed eyes, but it was covered by a dense and polite, “sure.” I didn’t expect a conversation or anything, but I needed some sort of verbal or non-verbal acknowledgment that I was not a faceless customer. This shop was not an airport; it was a place that I’d come to know and feel. And yet, I met only ambivalence. This was the problem.

You can accuse me of being dramatic, but this sense of alienation felt significant. Moreover, it was only the beginning of my discontent. I didn’t realize the extent of the issue until falling for a new coffee shop, Kenwick Table. It began casually, as these things do. But soon the infrequent visits became an affair de coer. The change was complete and irrevocable.

As I’ve reflected on this shift, I noticed the differences between Kenwick and the former shop. Extending these reflections, I’ve composed a list of the essential qualities of great (not merely good) coffee shops.