I can almost feel the coffee inside the roasting drum. It's getting hot; there is some anxiety that I won't let them out in time and they'll be injured or destroyed; all they want is to get out and cool down. And then... whoosh, relief. Spilling into the cooling bin. Taking care to pick out the defects. Pulling them off the pile so they'll cool faster. The faster, the better.

It's attention to detail. It's becoming so familiar with the coffee that I actually feel empathy for them. I don't see "coffee," I see individual beans- seeds of a sweet coffee cherry. I enjoy roasting.

This guy walked in here (pretty big fella) and ordered a "frozen mocha." My barista and I tried not to look at one another, but I'm sure he had the same smirk I did. I hear the blender. I hear the whip cream. I hear the fella say, "Why did you put pink sprinkles on my drink?" Hmm, let me think about that one, big guy.

There is a girl out there who seems to drink the cappuccino as if it were Yemen Mocca Sanani; as if it were a quadrium Trappist ale; as if each one were her last. I like that.

There are a lot of people blogging about our situation with Starbucks. Do a Google search for 'doubleshot coffee' and see a few pages of related results. I can't keep track of them all, but if you see one you think I might be interested in, or want to contact me for any other reason...
Brian@DoubleShotCoffee.com

Thanks!