If you have ever traveled to Southern Europe (Italy, Spain, France, Portugal), Latin America or particular parts of the American South (New Orleans without Katrina damage), you have been to spots that are decaying in a way that somehow makes them lovelier. These areas may be a bit worn, but they seem to possess an inherent wisdom that newer places that are scrubbed and more antiseptic may not. They reflect time passing, not as negative, but as an advantage where knowledge is gained, food is savored, children are revered, and things are more romantic and soulful. They are places where old friends and former foes may meet after battling long and hard. These are places where out of the corner of your eye you may catch God and the Devil (or saints and demons if you believe in such things) having a conversation.

I had a conversation of a similar sort recently (actually, my blogging has been infrequent and it was a couple of months ago) on a blustery night in Chicago at North Pond just prior to the close of the last decade. It was a dinner attended by a Mr. Duane Sorenson and yours truly. (In the spirit of full disclosure, I asked Duane if it was OK to write about this, and he said it was fine.) Before anyone jumps in here and says the attendees both have considerable egos (the accusation has been made of both of us and may hold some degree of truth) and that a comparison to saints and demons is unfounded, this mention is related to what others have foisted upon us and not what we believe ourselves. As for who is saint and who is demon, it depends entirely upon one’s point of view.

So where did the conversation go? It was surprisingly pleasant. As the years accumulate and the beautiful decay sets in (which I really do think applies to people as well), wisdom and experience piles up and perspective changes. As much as we are fierce (in a positive way) competitors, we are pursuing similar things in terms of where we hope to see coffee go, both as it relates to what happens at source as well as how coffee is presented and perceived here in the US and around the world. We discussed the positive changes that are taking place and how the public’s mind can be transformed cup by a great cup of coffee. We agreed that a lot has changed, but that there is still a long way to go.

We commiserated about what it means to be successful and how it makes you a target of mean-spirited barbs from people who have never met you and know nothing about you or your company. The woeful rise of the keyboard warrior and the anonymity of the Internet can make people forget their manners.

We talked about our kids and how much we love them and everything was right in the world for a moment.

Later in the night, we headed off to the Violet Hour (if you are reading this, live in Chicago, and haven’t been, you should go; if you aren’t in Chicago, it is worth the plane ride) for a closing cocktail on a fine evening. We ran into a surprising number of Chicago and Los Angeles culinary royalty. (If you ask me about it, I’ll tell you.)

I dropped Duane off and we agreed we should do this again sometime.

As I write this, I am on a quick train ride out of Manhattan. My travel schedule for today and the next eight days will have me in Chicago, New York, Los Angeles, Sonoma County, and San Francisco. It requires many meetings, being “on” frequently, and the inevitably late nights and early mornings. When I leave on a trip like this, my daughter Scarlet, now seven, says “have fun on vacation Daddy.” I chuckle and think these travels will be fun but certainly not a vacation.

It seems that for anything to work in business, life, or coffee, it must be rigorous. This may seem like a resounding theme in my writing, and at the risk of sounding cliché, it does appear that nothing worthwhile comes easy. But, if you are a likeminded person, you realize that this is the deal you made. If you want something to work well, you need to be prepared to work very hard for it. It puzzles me when others expect that it could happen any other way. All I know is there will be many more marathons of effort.

You may ask yourself, is it worth it? I guess you’ll have to wait and see. But, I think I know the answer.

As usual summer in Chicago seems to slip by so quickly that by the time you notice it is here, it is gone. I realize that we only have five weeks left, then school starts up, the seasons proceed, and another year passes. I guess there is something to be said for being immortal. In this life, by the time you begin to figure anything out, you’ve haven’t got much time to do something about it. I hate wasting time, but at the same it’s nice to some down time to think.

Lately I feel as if I have been all over the place as I bounce between Chicago and the coasts (more West than East) in such a way I sometimes forget exactly where it is that I am. With occasional forays outside of the country, I go through this drill in my head:

Uh, where am I?
My own bed? No. Then not home.
Can I drink the water out of the tap? Yes. Then United States.
Smell like thick, sweet air with a bit of ocean salt? No. Then not Los Angeles.
Smell like eucalyptus and moss? Yes. Ah, then Northern California.
Smell of vineyards too? Yes. I am in Sonoma County.

I wonder how this game works inside the mind of Geoff Watts or any other heavily traveling coffee buyer.

On another note, does anybody ever read this stuff? (This doesn’t include you, Mom.)

“On the brink” is a place I’m not much good at. I cannot stand limbo and would prefer to just get on with things. Most often this has served me well, but occasionally it can get me into trouble.

The opening event for our Venice coffeebar was this past Friday and we are (ahem) on the brink of opening the store. The party overwhelmed all of us as the line to get in stretched to a block long. (I must say I am thrilled that this many people were curious enough to check things out.) In order to open, we need to pass our final inspections and the Department of Water and Power (it is ominous-sounding for good reason) needs to provide the necessary power. Exactly when this will be, no one can quite say. It’s soon, that’s for sure, but not soon enough. The last week or so has been absolutely infuriating for reasons that I will not disclose here. (Please ask me privately. If I have seemed a bit gruff, you now know why.) The crew for Venice looks to be spectacular and they appear ready to go. Check ‘em out at intelli.la.

There are a few other things on the brink. Stay tuned. It may be a bit. I think I can wait.

Our new crop Direct Trade coffees are now no longer on the brink. With El Machete, Panama and La Tortuga, Honduras both released and many more to shortly follow, they are off to an absolutely flying start, landing sooner and fresher than ever. We have begun importing our coffee ourselves and thus far it has gone swimmingly well. Not only are we guaranteeing our growers great prices for great coffees through our pioneering Direct Trade program, but importing and financing our coffee ourselves provides an even greater degree of transparency and logistical control that allows us to land carefully selected Direct Trade coffees months sooner than if we were using outside importers. This work ultimately delivers real seasonality to as reflected in our Intelligentsia In Season program.

What does this mean to you? You will see our new crop Direct Trade coffees landing months sooner than before. Roasters that are still reliant upon importers are in many cases still offering last year’s Centrals.

Intelligentsia Imports is another decisive step in the right direction.

“I wish I was as fortunate, as fortunate as me.”
-Eddie Vedder

Another 6:00 a.m. flight from Chicago to Los Angeles. Making this flight usually entails waking up around 4:00 a.m. and fumbling quietly in the darkness so as to not wake Emily or Scarlet (who have on occasion described me as “noisy”). I am fairly adept at this drill as I probably take this flight every couple of weeks. It appears that I will be making it much more often for reasons that will become clear in the not-too-distant future. My wardrobe for this adventure is almost always the same: jeans, slip-on Vans (great for making it through security), a t-shirt (short or long sleeve depending on the season) and a jacket (when seasonally appropriate). This, one could argue, is where my luck begins. You will notice I am not putting on a tuxedo (although recent commentary on our removal of the 20 oz. drink from our menus in Chicago labeled me “elitist”, which implies a monocle, top hat and perhaps an FDR-like cigarette holder) or a suit or even the uniform of so-called “relaxed” employers (khakis and a golf shirt… oh my!).

That’s right ladies and gents, the clownish, fighting – middle – age – with – every – breath, incongruously – t-shirt – and – sneakers – wearing – while – reading – the – Times – business – section guy next to you is me. Thank god. I will admit that at some distant point in history, I had hoped to be one of those guys wearing a suit on his way to some important meeting. But thankfully, I flubbed the LSAT and realized that I was not going to be a lawyer (at least not the kind I wanted to be). In hindsight, I am glad it went down that way as I now view lawyers as a necessary evil (my apologies to the lawyers that we currently employ) as they tangle with the insurance folks and the ever-daring bankers (excepting our current banker who I really happen to think is great) for a spot in one of the lower circles of Hell.

After flubbing the test, I had one real job in sales for a large company. I did well but did not enjoy it very much and lasted ten months. After this experience, I launched head-long into entrepreneurialism by starting a bottled iced tea company with a friend (which tanked after four years), worked for a couple of coffee roasters in their retail stores (Peet’s and the now-defunct-in-the-U.S. Spinelli) and then, after coming to my senses, or maybe forgetting about them, I moved from San Francisco to Chicago to launch Intelligentsia with my wife. Much to my amazement and after so many close calls, we are still around and are finally getting things shored up in a way I really hadn’t thought would be possible. Upon leaving California, I felt a little beaten, and I think Em did too, like we had let ourselves down, but we swore that someday we’d be back in some form. With a thriving coffeebar in Silver Lake, a Los Angeles Roasting Works and another coffeebar there on its way, I guess we’re back in the state.

So why “lucky”? Well, it goes like this: I am lucky to still be married to Emily (undoubtedly the most clever and most beautiful woman in the room) after all of the strains we’ve encountered; lucky to have parents (believe it or not their names are Don and Daisy) that never doubted this was possible (even after losing their investment in my first business misadventure); lucky to have Scarlet (my now six-year-old daughter who reminds me that every day should be an adventure attacked with gusto); lucky to have found coffee; lucky to work everyday with some of the smartest (certainly smarter than me), most creative, nicest, hardest working folks you’ll ever meet; lucky to have dodged so many bullets in this business; lucky to have found people that believe in what we do; and lucky to not have to put on a suit to go to go to work every day in some faceless place that gets to make no relevant difference each day. I guess that all-in-all it’s not too bad, 6:00 a.m. flights not withstanding.

On a flight from Chicago to Los Angeles…

Tick, tock. Another Specialty Coffee Association of America (SCAA) show has passed. Like other years, this one was a blur, but a blur off a different kind. The show is always a time to see all those you know from the far-flung places that make up Specialty Coffee. My first SCAA show was in Minneapolis, some 12 years ago. It is odd to go from wide-eyed observer to (perhaps overly) seasoned observer in this span of time. It is refreshing to see the Barista culture and youth (including an always positively restless George Howell, demonstrating that youth is not a reflection of chronological age, but spirit) driving change. I remember being awed by the big names in the industry and wondering how we as a start up would find our way. Lately, it seems we are beginning to.

For the first time I feel like we really executed on what promise we have as a coffee company. There was a knowing, positive fruition of our efforts from the way our coffee and espresso (Black Cat and the Single Origins) tasted at our booth to the way we presented our new Black Cat Project and Intelligentsia In Season initiatives to how we fared at the United States Barista Championship. The only other person that has seen this process from then until now is my trusty compadre Geoff Watts (and my wife Emily who founded the company with me but as of late has moved onto an endeavor much more charming than our business and her name is Scarlet). Clarity of purpose is nice and like any other business owner can tell you, we have made our fair share of mistakes. Some of them twice.

Geoff (Intelligentsia’s Coffee Buyer) and I had some nice talks during the show, which we rarely have given the rigor of his travel schedule outside of the country and my time between the different pieces of what we do in the United States. I happen to like Geoff. In our work together I am confident we have both found times that we have been thrilled to be working together and others when we have been incredibly frustrated with each other. Lately it has been the former. In both of our cases we have been figuring it out as we go along, and I finally think we are getting to the point of being the professionals we had always hoped to be.

I remember our first trip to origin together, and I must say where he has taken things with our work at source is far beyond what I (and I think he) imagined possible. That said, I think we both know we are just getting started.

And to everybody that helped to get us to where we are now, I am deeply grateful. I have watched a lot of you grow up (some quite quickly in the past couple of years) and it has been immensely gratifying watching your efforts shape an industry. It hasn’t been easy. But man, it sure has been fun.

I hope I can stay I can be as invigorated about it as George Howell is now for 20 more years. That could be nice.

I’m on a plane headed to Los Angeles for Intelligentsia’s holiday party for our West Coast crew. If anyone sees this in time, you are certainly invited to attend the festivities. We’ll be at the York, a nice pub with a solid beer selection and tasty food in Highland Park (a Los Angeles neighborhood) starting at 8:00 P.M.

In Chicago the temperature may barely break into the double digits today. I know it’s raining in LA, but I think it is still supposed to reach the 60s, so I have no good reason to complain.

After only five months, our coffeebar in Los Angeles is thriving, which helps to reduce some of the sting of the long delays and the expense of the build-out. It looks like our West Coast Roasting Works will be permitted, functional, and all pretty some time in February, various Los Angeles County and City Departments willing. (Readers, please rub your lucky rabbit’s foot and pick a four leaf clover, if nearby.) For those of you that attended our party during SCAA, you saw the precursor to what will be a great training center and cupping lab, although based on the state many of you were in during that party, you may not remember.

The Roasting and Quality Assurance crew is chomping at the bit to finally roast some coffee, and we are eager to give tours to the public and to host our Espresso Enthusiast classes, Barista Training classes, and Meet the Grower visits there. Oh, and of course you must visit our coffee-packing-only room. We HAD to build this room smack dab in the middle of the space, thereby reducing the useable section of the warehouse in about half. We built it, at very little expense (please note more than just a little sarcasm here), because Los Angeles County demanded it before we could receive approval to roast and package coffee. The City of Angles, I mean Angels is notorious for delaying the opening of most any food-related venue be it a roasting facility, coffeebar or restaurant. Ask anyone here who has tried to open one.

Oh, on another note, I look forward to the upcoming Barista competition season. It should be a good one.

I’m going to try to get the posts out more often…time permitting.

Strange that I would think of this as I am rumbling along on the South Shore train line, from Chicago around the bottom of now icy Lake Michigan, heading to pick up my ’84 Landcruiser after some bodywork to clean up its rust. It’s a cold, dark Chicago winter morning. The train lurches along the backside of the Southside, and through smudgy, road-salt-encrusted train windows, the city emanates a melancholy beauty. It may help that I am listening to Wilco’s “Yankee Hotel Foxtrot”, which adds texture to an industrial landscape that seems to be alive, emitting steam with each warming breath.

Luxury, like much else, is being commoditized in the world of consumables. Leather seats in cars are becoming more standard and we wouldn’t dream of not having power windows. Almost all of us can afford to by something fluffy and fleecy, probably made in a country with a very low labor cost, at Target to keep us warm as we watch a football game (“gridiron” to my overseas reader(s)) on our new flat-screen, high-definition TV’s.

That said, the luxury I most relish is the one that seems to be the hardest to find, that of time. Peaceful, reflective opportunities that are stolen on planes, on the road to somewhere/nowhere, or on a train ride like this, in the morning before everyone else in my house is awake…enjoying a great cup of coffee. Here is to a luxurious 2008.

Oh, and Nick Cho, I think you owe me a glass of Bourbon; this is my 8th 9th post. Pappy Van Winkle’s Family Reserve, 20 years old should do just fine.

Today I woke just before the sun came up and headed to a small town in Michigan where there is a repair shop that does great work on my 1984 Toyota Land Cruiser. It’s about 80 minutes from my home on Chicago’s North Side and this post is being written while traveling aboard the legendary South Shore Line, which rumbles along the southern shore of Lake Michigan.

On the drive out, I passed through the (formerly) industrial south side of Chicago with its heaving brick buildings, the steel factories of Gary, and finally the heavily wooded stretch through the Indiana Dunes National lakeshore and southwestern Michigan, which were aglow with the last vestiges of Midwestern fall. I love this drive any time of year. It offers almost every kind of scenery imaginable from cityscape, to post-apocalyptic, to almost primeval forest, each beautiful and profound in its one-of-a-kind way. Another bit of luck is a charming gourmet market along the way that does a very nice job brewing and serving our coffee. I had a cup and exhaled a bit.

But really, 80 miles to get my truck fixed? There are service shops in Chicago, right? Well it comes down to a few things. The guys that work on my truck love what they do, which is repairing and bringing vintage vehicles to life. At any given time you will see a wide range of older models there: 60’s era (and older) Ferraris, Jaguars, and Austin Healys (my dad once had one of these lovely money-pits), MG’s, Triumphs, Aston Martins, Porsches (I got a ride to the train station in a 928 and when did they stop making those?), Datsuns, Volvos, Saabs and yes, I have even seen the short-lived De Lorean and the perplexing pre-SUV La Forza.

So is it just because these guys love what they do? No, it’s much more. They are always kind and thorough and never talk down to me (even though I admittedly am among the very mechanically challenged) or anybody that I have ever seen there, regardless of what vehicle they are bringing in or whether they are a man or a woman. When is the last time you experienced that? They always call with progress reports whether the news is bad or (as often) good. They always seem more than happy to pick you up or deliver you to the train station. I always ask how business is going and the reply is always the same: “Great. We’re just glad people are willing to wait for the kind of work we do.”

So ultimately what is it? Why do people like me come so far out of their way to get their cars looked after? The answer is it is rare to find consummate pros in a world of the rude, the apathetic, the arrogant, and the condescending know-it-all. I think we may have a lot to learn from these folks in our world of coffee. Present company included. Anybody listening?

The cool winds of autumn…

It is time to revel in great coffees from the Americas and the pleasure of a great cup of American-style (drip filter, Clover, urn, Chemex, even French Press, as long as we are not talking about espresso-based) coffee. At a lovely little bakery near my house (that just so happens to serve our coffee), I had an absolutely pristine cup of our La Perla de Oaxaca, Organic Mexico: stunning in its earnestness, profound in its sweetness, absolutely perfect… and I think impossible to beat as fall marches on its way to winter in reluctantly beautiful Chicago. In what is becoming an increasingly espresso-centric, technical and gadget-driven world, I see the pendulum swinging back to pure expressions of marvelous single origin coffees prepared without fuss and complication. Wouldn’t that be great? Getting back to where we started, and this time getting it right.