Finding the Art in Something, Anything, Everything
You’re late. You’re stressed. Not even 9am and you’re already
overwhelmed. Tired and cranky from not
enough sleep, never enough sleep. Hungry, harried, hostile. It’s noisy. Shit – only 5 minutes before you’re
officially late for work. The line seems interminably long, and it’s moving
slower than a snail’s pace. But you’ll risk the wrath of your boss and the raised
eyebrows of your co-workers because, at this moment in time, nothing matters
more than the rich dark fragrant steamy elixir of the gods. Finally, you make it to the counter and bark
out your order for a latte, macchiato, americano, cappuccino, espresso, double,
regular, black, whatever. You impatiently wait, lost in your own world of
deadlines, duties and distractions. And
then it arrives. Coffee. You go for your
first sip. And in the cup you see etched
into the foam a flower, a leaf, a heart.
And just for a moment, you stop, look up, and for the first time notice
the smiling face of the person who handed you the cup … And - in gratitude,
appreciation, relief, surprise - you smile back.
This is the singular
magic of a place like Joe, The Art of Coffee.
Most weekday mornings,
many of us stumble, still bleary-eyed and rushed, into our usual café. We make our request without thinking twice about
the young barista taking our order and/or preparing our beverage. Agitated and anxious en route to work, distracting
and dashing for a train, we may grunt out a perfunctory greeting, then fidget restlessly
for money as the coffee is brewed, the milk steamed, the muffin wrapped. Nary a thought for the fresh, smiling, young
(or youngish), maybe bearded, perhaps pierced and/or tattooed, person behind
the counter: we just want the magical
liquor which helps keep our cylinders fired and ease us through our day. If anything, we might make assumptions about
the “kid” handing us our order: “ … he’s
a stoner slacker who can’t or won’t get a real job; foregoing a college
education (or opting for an interesting but impractical liberal arts education),
she now has to pour coffee to survive in the real world; he plays in a band and
does this between gigs; she’s a rich kid who came here to experience life in
the ‘Big Apple’, have fun and ‘find
herself’ on her parents’ dime … “ You
spy the tip jar, and wonder, “I need to leave a tip – for what???”
(Oh, how our big brains love
to make up stories so that we can understand, put things in order, feel secure,
confirm our preconceived notions. Perhaps
feel superior. We may not judge a book
by its cover, but we readily make assumptions about people based on their age, wardrobe,
job, style and grooming. And you know
what happens when we ass-u-me …)
Most of us take little
or no interest in where our coffee comes from, who grows it, the myriad
varieties, how it’s prepared, the subtleties of its flavor composition. As long as it’s convenient and available at a
moment’s notice, tastes okay and gives us the caffeine jolt we need, we’re
good. But when Joe, the Art of Coffee,
opened up in my neighborhood a few years ago, it reignited my appreciation of good
coffee and of the importance of the café society that develops around its
enjoyment. It helped open my eyes once
again to the ubiquity of simple beauty, to the accessibility of blissful
moments, and to the possibility of finding the art in just about everything,
everywhere. Even in something as
seemingly banal as a cup of coffee.
The first difference I
noticed: this was no ordinary cup of joe. Rich, deep, dark, full, smooth, strong, satisfying,
dependable. And oh-so drinkable. Rather unique on this side of the
Atlantic. (And not bitter and
burnt-tasting like that other famous coffee establishment just down the street. And up the street. And across the street. And around the corner. And around the next corner And …) I was thrilled to find a nearby place where
I, over a steaming cup of coffee, I could sit and work and read and chat with
the random person sitting next to me, just like I used to do when I lived in
Paris. Not a huge chain. More of a boutique. A real café with real coffee.
Another equally
important difference: the baristas. The young people behind the counter seemed
genuinely friendly and interested in getting to know their customers. They remember
your name, ask about your day, and engage in a lovely little minute-long
conversation as they take and you wait for your order. They seem passionate about their
products. Like a professional sommelier describing
a delicious bottle of red, Joe’s baristas can tell you the origin of the coffee
bean, the farming methods, the roasting process; they can describe each coffee’s
boldness or mildness, sweet or citrus notes, berry or chocolatey or smoky flavor;
whether it is best enjoyed with or without milk. Whether describing the house
blend, which changes seasonally depending upon harvests, the special coffee of
the day, the single-serve, individually prepared “pour-overs”, these kids (yes,
they could actually be my kids) are serious professionals; they know their product
and how to best prepare it. Their
friendliness and willingness to share their expertise, and their genuine
curiosity about you and their other customers, help create a uniquely relaxed
and warm environment.
Joe has become a home
away from home of sorts, a meeting place and work space for many of my Upper
West Side brethren. We call it the “coffice”.
(Incidentally, the UWS has more laptop- or iPad –toting freelancers per
capita than any other neighborhood in the city, even Brooklyn.) Instantly
addicted, friends I’ve invited there call it the “crack house” in awe and
appreciation. Okay, sure – the tables
are tiny, too close together and nailed to the floor; sometimes the music is too
loud or kind of weird; sometimes the staff is having too much fun with each
other and not enough with the customers.
But the passion, knowledge, energy and openness of the baristas help
enhance the already-superior coffee-drinking experience one finds at Joe. I sat down with a former Joe barista, Alex
B., to find out more about the people behind the counter, and what makes a
place like Joe so special.
Alex, a bright-eyed,
bearded and bespeckled native of the Pacific Northwest, admitted that he didn’t
anticipate a “career in coffee” when he graduated from Wesleyan in 2011 with a
BS in Feminist Gender / Sexual Studies, and Resistance Politics. He found himself behind the counter because he
needed to work and “frankly, the job market sucks.” He has chosen to embrace the barista experience
as an unexpected windfall, and has become quite an aficionado on the subject of
coffee, not only the product and its production, but also its economic and
social importance both here and abroad.
Certified in his trade
after many hours of textbook and hands-on training, Alex really knows his coffee. His interest in and knowledge of coffee’s
subtleties and complexities allow him to serve as judge at official competitions
such as The Northeast Regional Barista Competition. (He went over some of the many
national/regional competitions, and judging categories – i.e. product
knowledge, technique/equipment, creativity - with me, and frankly, I couldn’t
keep up!) Clearly, those participating
are serious professionals who take pride in their craft and work towards making
the best damn cup of coffee possible. Paradise
in a cup, accessible to everyone.
Generally, we the
consumer have no idea the amount of time, energy and effort serious baristas
put into their work. To really excel,
one needs many hours of study (origin/farming, beans, blends, roasting, brewing,
taste), and practice preparation.
Alex’s passion is
palatable when he talks about his profession.
He truly believes in the power of coffee to help make the world a better
place. In fact, he wrote his senior
thesis on the subject on cafe history and its relevance. We talked about how,
thanks initially to the growth of Starbuck’s, New York has finally developed a
sort of café society similar to that of European and northwestern cities. Does this matter? Absolutely.
In many ways, it has helped humanize the city. People crave community,
especially in a hard, fast-paced, alienating urban environment, and cafes
provide “a much-needed semi-private, semi-public communal space where it’s okay
– not weird - to be alone, or to come together.” To connect, or spend a moment in solitude,
publically. To safely breach the void
between total strangers. A more relaxed,
“democratic” environment than a bar or restaurant, where people can enjoy a lower-cost,
non-alcoholic drink that feels like a treat, an indulgence, a form of
pampering. Not to mention, a recession-proof
one: Like lipstick and movies, coffee has
proven itself an affordable luxury that people continue to buy even during
economic downturns like the current one.
Alex told me of his
belief in the “profound ability to affect social justice through offering
better coffee.” To provide a decent living wage to coffee farmers and farm
laborers in far-away places through fair/direct trade practices, as well as to
servers here in the US. Coffee comes from regions, mostly 2nd and 3rd
world, that fall between the Tropic of Cancer and Tropic of Capricorn: Costa Rica, Brazil (currently the world’s
largest coffee producer), Ethiopia (the birthplace of the bean), Indonesia, Jamaica,
Hawaii (the only coffee producing region in the USA), even Yemen, to name a
few.* A truly great cup of coffee starts
with greater control and attention afforded by a truly direct trade, by working
with individual fincas (plantations)
every step of the way - farming, bean and cherry selection; proper transport - what
Joe calls “Fair And Traceable Transactions” (FATT). Single origin or
specialized blending (rather than wholesale blending) insure the integrity and
nuance of flavor, as does proper roasting techniques. This produces a cup of coffee as complex, nuanced,
full and balanced as a great glass of wine.
This ain’t your grandfather’s Chock Full of Nuts, gulped with a tuna
fish sandwich at noon …
Then it’s up to the
barista to properly brew and prepare each individual cup for our drinking
pleasure. Joe baristas, truly masters of their trade, strive “to help make
people’s day better” by offering a superior product, artfully prepared in a
friendly, professional manner. Their attention to detail helps elevate the quotidian
into an experience, an event, a true moment.
They transform the seemingly banal to an expression of excellence. And that is why we supplement their meager
wage with a gratuity.
It reminds me of the two
winter seasons I checked coats in neighborhood restaurants. Unlike much of the staff who couldn’t stand
serving, couldn’t wait to finish their shift, take their tips and hightail it,
I tried to bring something special to one of the dumbest, most demanding and
difficult jobs I’ve ever done. By making
the brief exchange between myself and my “customers” fun and interesting, a brief
but meaningful moment, I not only took home pocketfuls of cash, I burned
hundreds of calories (the work is surprisingly physical), made many friends and
even some important business contacts. I
transcended the coat check room and turned my menial job into a meaningful
exchange with a multiple benefits. An
art.
Full disclosure: Alex has since moved on to a manager’s
position at a hip new café in Williamsburg.
And yes, I’ve cheated on Joe, sometimes at Starbucks (for convenience,
at moments of desperate need), or across the street at Mud’s open-air sidewalk
café where I can tap away on my laptop, access free WiFi, and work as I watch
the world go by. It feels a bit more
continental, more parisien …
And then there are the other new
high-falutin’ maestros of coffee around the city, the Stumptowns, the intricate
pour-over places, doing for coffee what the Japanese have long done to honor
and elevate the ritual of preparing and drinking tea …
And yet, I always come
back to Joe. The rich flavor, the cherry
undertones, the clean finish. The quirky conversations with the ever-surprising
kids behind the counter - who, incidentally, are real people who also play in a
band or pursue acting or study art or make films - as well as fellow patrons. Mindfulness, attention, appreciation, service,
patience, engagement, excellence, joy. That’s
what it takes. If Joe’s baristas can turn
a cup of coffee into a religious experience, how is it that we all aren’t making
magic on a regular basis, in our work and in our life, in our relationships and
in our community?
*Joe, The Coffee Book by Jonathan and Gabrielle Rubinstein, and the
Columbus Avenue Baristas of Joe, Art of Coffee
© 2013 Tess
Quadrozzi, A-Muse-In-Manhattan
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