kite day at the beach, from which one might correctly infer a short-lived stay. something about nine-month-olds’ ears not tolerating such windspeeds without grave, tedious consequences involving garlic oil and cotton balls… salient gist: more time to cafe loll, chez the rapidly improving muddy waters so recently joshed in these pages. (clarification: not the same muddy waters mentioned in connection with the usbc, despite my assumption that it was.)
hunched over the counter, swilling my house round, it occured to me that this is essentially your posterchild argument for the value of triple-wavery. no high-stepping barista snobbishness here, no chest-thumping or pontificating (not that there’s anything wrong with that!). just george and michele, formerly of seattle, who happen to know a good cuppa when it hits them. moved to the land of milk and nothing, discovered what any half-traveled palate can tell you: that within the confines of a single sentence about the only south carolina term that can cohabitate with ‘connoisseur’ would be, well, ‘collards.’
these people, they started admirably — asking questions. they were in charlotte, had their first sip of black cat and were still raving about it when i swung by saturday. asked for feedback on the macchiato. readily admitted that they don’t know everything. just learning, a little wide-eyed. eagerly took a very specific order for a second round, then served it on the house. hinted that the delightfully dark espresso forte might soon be served. self deprecated. showed a fascination with the latest single origins. asked us to come back.
in short, the kind of place where the battle is being fought, patiently, with the chain store around the corner. where i tend to more patiently drink something slightly astringent, say, because this is a process, and these people are along for the ride. cool.