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.

A word to those that think they are owed something: You are not. You need to earn it.

I am on another airplane heading toward enchanting Los Angeles (I say this with absolute seriousness. Have you been there lately?), thinking about the effort that goes into making something great. Nothing worthwhile ever just floats one’s way. You have to go after it. Everyone I know that has made something of themselves has worked hard at it—from the best baristas in the country and in the world, to the best coffee growers, to the best coffee buyers, to the best chefs at the best restaurants. Sure, some people are more predisposed than others to certain things, but those who possess these natural abilities are even better when they work hard and practice their craft. They are constant students of whatever will make them better. They pay attention and are willing to pay their dues.

Another thing about the great ones: they don’t complain about how hard they have to work at something; they just do it. They are not worried about being overlooked as their actions and not their words will define them. They don’t complain or quibble. They do what it takes.

Here is why—they don’t know any other way to it. The only thing the entitled should prepare themselves for is to be left behind. Choose your path wisely.

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.)

I have been at this awhile now, with many gray hairs among those still left to tussle each morning. I see photos of myself these days and ask, “Is that really me?” I look a bit weary as a lot has passed in this last twelve months (and the 42 years before that) and we have certainly gotten to places I never expected or even dreamed of. As much as I ask,” Is that really me?” when I show up for some of the things we do and events we put on, I also sometimes feel as if I am outside of myself. I ask myself “is this my life?” and “when did all of this transpire?” and “how is it possible that we got here?”

Such were my feelings as last week’s event unfolded in Colombia. The Extraordinary Coffee Workshop was utterly remarkable in so many ways. The coffee growers we work alongside of in Bolivia, Peru, Brazil, Colombia, Costa Rica, Nicaragua, El Salvador, Honduras, and Guatemala all flew in to Cali, Colombia to attend the three-day event. (Some of the fine folks from some quality exporters were there, too.) We shuttled between Cali, Popayan and Finca Santuario in the Cauca Valley in Colombia. We spent time discussing a wide range of topics from how quality assurance works at Intelligentsia, to fertilization, to how the producers’ coffees will be marketed and sold, to a very engaged home brewing seminar that everybody seemed to absolutely love (it doesn’t hurt to have the vim and vigor of Sarah Kluth’s presentation style either), as well as a walking tour of the farm that left everyone soaked after a drenching rain. Some of wandered off the path on that tour, got lost and even more soaked, but were then found and redirected by a stoic (but later smiling) soldier from the Colombian army. All of this was marvelous and gratifying, but really only (at best) half of what was great about this event.

Like most everyone who goes off to university or travels extensively around the world will tell you, the most interesting stuff happens not when things are planned but when they just happen. At meals, over drinks or a game of sappo, you could see the growers connecting and sharing excitement and knowledge in a way that I’ve never seen before. We always wondered why producers seem so glad to see us when a farm visit is made. It is because they are seldom, if ever, visited by others in coffee. It is because they are largely isolated, toiling for the most part in obscurity, never really connecting with anyone like them. They finally got to talk shop and work on their “game” with others. They may have started the week out as strangers, but they certainly left as friends looking forward to picking up where they left off next time they see each other. A number of questions were answered. A lot more were asked. With each step forward we learn how much we know and more importantly how much more there is to know.

The void, the gap between where coffee is grown and where it is sold just got a little bit smaller. Next year in El Salvador during harvest with this same group of growers and hopefully a few more, all friends, another tiny piece of the void will disappear.

If you read this on Sunday June 7th, I am somewhere in the air heading toward Cali, Colombia to the 1st Annual Extraordinary Coffee Workshop. The event will be held in both Cali proper and at Finca Santuario in the Cauca Valley. Twenty Direct Trade growers from around the world are joining us for an Intelligentsia hosted four-day event to foster better coffee through workshops, seminars (including home brewing and espresso), farm tours, a cupping competition (with their coffees), and of course through the many conversations that will be had over meals and a few beers. This is the first event of its kind put on by a roaster, and we are very excited about where it might lead. While Finca Santuario is hosting this year’s event, it will move to another country and farm or cooperative each successive year.

In other breaking news, I know I didn’t get it quite right on my last guess on the opening of our new Venice coffeebar. Well, this time I will. We will finally be opening in Venice (at 1331 Abbot Kinney) on Monday June 8th at high noon! Typical hours thereafter will be Sunday – Thursday 6am- 10pm, Friday 6am – 11pm, and Saturday 7am – 11pm. The place is looking beautiful and it really should provide a coffee experience unlike you’ve had before. I hope to see you there.

If there is anything I cannot stand, it is construction. It is so destructive, loud, irritating, dirty and achingly slow. We have experienced the slog of construction at our Venice coffeebar for what seems like a lifetime. Each time we build a store, I swear that toward the end of construction I will never be involved in building another.

As a man I have never experienced childbirth or the physical pain that it causes, but I have often heard that somehow a mother forgets the intense pain of the process and the drudgery of pregnancy shortly after her child is born. Perhaps the same is true in this case. So then, here is to a beautiful, well-adjusted child named Venice. We expect her to arrive just after dawn this Thursday, June 4th.

May her smile be so bright that she makes us forget all our pain.

Find out all the details about Venice and more at intelli.la

“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 am sitting under a cloudless sky, filled with stars, somewhere south of Cuba. It smells like the tropics. I can taste the tropics. (Rum anyone?) I can hear the gentle waves of the Caribbean and the whoosh of the palm trees. Earlier today, I dove into the bluest, clearest, warmest ocean I have ever felt or seen (and I’ve seen a lot).

I am on a hard-earned vacation in the Cayman Islands. There are a lot of battles to be fought the remainder of this year, so why not take some time to recharge? After all, it is my first-grade daughter’s Spring Break. Believe me when I say I can use the rest. I am also, as you can imagine, restless. See you in a week. I’ll be rested. Look out.

Mike Phillips, the recently crowned 2009 United States Barista Champion, is the first to show up and the last to leave. His work ethic is admirable. Mike wasn’t supposed to win. He embodies what it is to be an American in the best possible way. He does not feel entitled to anything, nor does he take anything for granted. After full days on the bar at our original location, he spent many hours, often late into the evening, working on his coffee and his program. The installation of the Clover and our changeover to by-the-cup-only brewing at our Broadway location was very hard to execute in a store with 13 1/2 years of history. Mike, along with our Manager Talya Strader, led the charge with such vigor and commitment that it surprised even someone as critical as myself. I also think it may have knocked the stuffing out of even someone as seasoned and tough as Mike. I am convinced that this changeover may have worn Mike down a bit, and as a result, he finished fifth at the Great Lakes Regional. But he never complained about it. It was clear that he was very deflated by the result, but as difficult as it was, my wife Emily put it best–disappointment is something that is part of being a responsible adult. How one deals with disappointment defines one’s character.

We all agreed that competitors had to finish in the top three of a regional in order to receive Intelligentsia’s full support to travel to the United States Barista Championship in Portland. This was a difficult stance to adhere to when Mike finished fifth, but in fairness to all of those who competed, we agreed to stick to it. Mike also agreed it was fair. But then he asked me something that demonstrated what kind of person he really is and what he is committed to. He asked if he could pay his own way to compete at the United States Barista Championship. I thought about it and agreed that it was an entirely reasonable request. And when he won the championship, he was more surprised than anyone, but I wasn’t. Effort and perseverance always wins. Not right away, not today, and not tomorrow, but eventually it always does. This is exactly why coffee needs more people like Mike. I am inspired and honored to work alongside him.

I remember first seeing Mike on a coffee enthusiast website. Later, he took a job in production at Intelligentsia, putting coffee in bags, eventually making his way to a role as a Retail Director of Coffee. He started his career in coffee only three years ago and now he is the United States Champion. Now that is a story. I can’t wait to witness the next chapter.