Wednesday, February 19, 2014
And yet, there was this considerable bright spot throughout the travails—Pour Richard's Coffee Co., a new, hand-built mecca not far from home. Pour Richard's offers not just some of the best coffee my Salvadoran (which is to say coffee-experienced) husband has ever had, but a hometown, community-knitting brand of hospitality. You walk in; they know your preference. You sit down, and if you ask, they'll tell you some secrets about coffee.
I'm a tea drinker myself, and oh, does Pour Richard's have some tea (and a wild machine they steep it in). And you can't beat the pastries that arrive each morning, fresh, from a variety of local bakers. Personally, I'm in love with the warm chocolate croissants. I do extra sit-ups as penance.
It took Richard (a dentist by day, a coffee roasting hobbyist for years) many seasons (the story goes) to build this enclave, to hire the coffee experts, to connect with local bakers, to put out the sign. It took hardly any time for locals to settle in. Over the five weeks that we were kitchenless, we watched the crowds grow, the pleasures build. We saw something special happen.
We have a kitchen now (though we are far from done). But we are not going to abandon our friends at Pour Richard's. There's too much good going on over there to dismiss the experience as a passing fancy. And it's fun, in this day and age, to watch an independent, artisanal shop grow a pair (or two) of wings. In my mind's eye, an independent bookstore goes up nearby, then a new, specialty-chef empowered kitchen. In my mind's eye, the artisans reclaim my town. It may sound like a dream, but it is not (to gauge by Pour Richard's) an utter fantasy.