Two Drifters, Off To See The World

It was a Saturday night in June. We knew it was going to be busy. Most Saturday nights were busy. This was summer. This was the beach. Busy had a whole different meaning in the summer. I was lucky, I had the ‘the duces” that night. They were a row of five two-tops that ran right next to the windows that sat right on the boardwalk. They had a great view of the ocean even on dark nights thanks to the two floodlights on the roof of “The Kettle”.

I was in the kitchen discussing the possibility of getting one of my orders out of that kitchen and to my customers, with Roger, the chef. The order had been in the system for quite a while. During a pause in the conversation, I was confronted by my buddy Rat.

“You’re one lucky shit.”

“Don’t give me that. You had the duces last night and made a ton of money.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about.”

“Then what are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about that “smoking hot, little black dress” sitting in your station, all by herself. She doesn’t have a date. According to Queen Bee, she’s not going to be joined by anyone. You’re one lucky shit.”

“You know as well as I do, that could be a good thing or, most likely, a very bad thing.” At the beach, who eats alone?

“I am more than happy to take her off your hands, if you’re a little gun shy.”

“Don’t be silly. You need to go take care of your station before you end up in the weeds.” You never wanted to be in the weeds.

I then continued my discussion with Roger. We reached an agreement whereby I supplied his four line cooks with four ice cold cokes and suddenly all my orders started receiving priority treatment. Graft will always be alive and well in the restaurant business.

As I returned to my station with my two dinners, I found that Rat had greatly underestimated the situation in my station. Sitting at one of my duces was not a “smoking hot, little black dress” but a stunningly beautiful young lady in her late twenties. She had thick raven tresses that framed her face and cascaded down her back. She also had blue-green eyes that held an innocence and a bit of sorrow. She was slender and petite with a ballerina like grace to her movements. She wore no jewelry, save a pair of gold studs in her ears. She was the type of woman who didn’t need jewelry.

I came over to introduce myself. When she looked up at me, I noticed  a certain simplicity to her face. So much so, my heart took one of those adrenaline jolts that never happen with me but just did. She didn’t wear much makeup. She had high cheekbones and that dark skin tone that tanned way before it ever burned. The skin looked soft and smooth but had a slight pinkness from her day in the sun. I was speechless, which was very unusual for me. I talked to beautiful young ladies all day long during my walks on the beach. She was different.

I guess, I had been standing there for a while because she said, “I’m sorry, are you here to help me?” Her voice had a low pitch and the words flowed from her in long unbroken ribbons as if from a cello. It had a soulful quality.

“Yes, I’m sorry. My name is Zack and I’ll be your server tonight. Can I get you something to drink?”

“Yes. I would like a glass of white wine, sauvignon blanc, if you have it, and my name is Kate”

“Nice to meet you, Kate. I’ll be right back.”

Queen Bee was our matre’d. He was standing at the service bar as I approached to place my order. “I didn’t think you’d mind me sitting her at one of your tables but as skinny as she is, she isn’t going to eat much, so you’re not going to make much money.” He snickered and left. He was sometimes amused by simple things.

I returned with her glass of sauvignon blanc. “Would you like me to tell you about tonight’s specials?”

“No. I kind of know what I want.” As she said this, she looked up at me  and smiled. It was a smile that warmed my heart. “I’d like a half dozen of the oysters on the half-shell, with just sliced lemon, please.”

“Good choice. They are “Rappahannock’s”. We just got them in this morning.” I smiled. “You like raw oysters?”

She laughed. It was one of those silver bell laughs that are clear, bright, and musical. “Yes, I was raised in Northern Virginia, close to D.C. My father indoctrinated me at an early age to the pleasures of raw oysters, specifically Chesapeake Bay oysters. It’s like taking a crisp bite of the ocean with all the briny, minerally, sweetness that encompasses. I have been a fan for a long time.”

”I see. And what would you like for your main course?” I was beginning to be a fan of this young lady.  

“All I really want is a simple piece of fish. What would you suggest?”

“The fillet of flounder, it also came in fresh this morning. I can get the chef to do a sauté with lemon and butter. Perhaps with some fresh asparagus spears.”

“That sounds perfect.”

“Let me get that started for you.” As I turned away and headed to the kitchen, I shook my head. What was I missing? This lady was stunning and yet she is eating alone. From the pink tone of her skin, I could see she had spent most of the day on the beach. So, why hadn’t one of my fellow beach bums tried to pick her up? There are all sorts and ages of us on the beach. One of them should have struck her fancy and yet she sat here all alone.

I did my best to keep a conversation going with her, but we were reaching peak hour, seven to eight o’clock. Everyone wants to eat between seven and eight o'clock. With the “duces”, I was expected to turn them at least three times sometimes four on a busy night. That’s at least 30 people. Well 29 tonight because of Queen Bee’s amusement.

I got in the “zone” where there was no wasted motion as I went about my duties. I was doing forty things at once but appeared calm and collected. I spent a little extra time with her because she was dining alone. As I served her oysters and flounder, I found out she was a teacher, fifth grade, lived in an apartment complex in Arlington, was a terrible cook but could do the simple things, enjoyed the museums and art galleries in D.C., and liked Beach Music, the Tams in particular. She had gone to school at Duke, so she knew the “Carolina Bop”.

While I was in the kitchen Rat came up to me and said, “You got her room key yet?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Yeah, she’s staying next door in the Hilton according to Queen Bee. That makes it pretty convenient for you.”

“People get fired for doing shit like that.” The “Kettle” was the restaurant for the Hilton. So there were rules. The restaurant property was owned by the Hilton but leased by another company. The “Kettle” did room service and breakfast for the Hilton and got the benefit of that tremendous view for dinner. They didn’t want employees having any kind of relationships with any of the guests. There was a rule against that. The restaurant was predominately by reservation but if we had an empty table, they would take walk-ins. The “All Mighty Dollar” is the main rule in the restaurant business.

“That’s true but it has never stopped you before.”

“I know but I don’t think she’s interested in me.”

“Don’t sell yourself short. Maybe she hasn’t warmed up to you yet. My offer still stands. If you want, I can take over at any time.” He kind of snickered when he said this, which pissed me off.

“Fuck you. Go take care of your vast hoards in the back.” His station tonight included one large window table and several large tables with children in an area we called “Siberia”. Children are not conducive to fine dining. I know the argument, “How are they supposed to learn?” That’s a valid point but oh, the learning process.

Kate had finished her dinner, passed on dessert and ended things with a Moka pot of coffee and a snifter of Grand Marnier. Nice. That’s how I like to end a meal.

“Can I get you anything else?”

“No, I’m good. You can just bring me my bill.”

I returned in a few moments with her check in a leather cover. “It was a pleasure serving you. I hope you have a great rest of your night.”

“Can I charge this to my room?”

“Certainly.”

She signed the check, stood and started to walk away. I don’t think any man was ever disappointed in watching her walk away. She did have on a pair of enhancing black spiked heels. She stopped, turned and walked back to me. “Listen I have a bottle of single malt scotch up in my room. You look like a single malt kind of guy. Would you like to come by for a glass after you get off work?”

I was stunned for a second, but after a beat said, “Yes, I am and I would love to, but I have another idea. How about we immerse you in the total beach experience. Why don’t you put on something a little less formal and we can take a stroll down the boardwalk, admiring the ocean as we go. On 17^th street, there’s a place, a block off the beach, called “The Shack”. It is the perfect beach bar. I hang out there a bit. Well, that’s not true. I hang out there a lot. They only serve beer, the jukebox has a ton of Beach Music classics, and it has lots of interesting Beach people, not a lot of tourists. They don’t have a dance floor, but people have been known to dance anyway.”

“Is the beer ice cold?”

“As cold as my landlord’s heart.”

“That sounds perfect. I’m in room 321, but of course you already know that.” She pointed to the check in my hand, smiled, turned and walked away. I can’t imagine ever getting tired of watching her walking away, but that’s me.

It took me about an hour and a half to finish up, change clothes and make it to her door. I was wearing jeans, a Shack t-shirt, and a pair of “Top Siders”, which was my usual late night drinking attire.

When she opened the door, I was amazed. “You look fantastic,” I said. She stood there in a white linen sundress. Her hair was tied back in a ponytail. The dress was solid bright white that fell gracefully in an A-line to just below the knee. It had a smocked bodice with a round crew neckline and short, slightly flared flutter sleeves. On her feet were a pair of white Chuck Taylor hi-tops laced halfway up and tied in bows.

“Oh no. Is this too dressy? I didn’t bring a lot of clothes. I have a pair of jean, if…”

“No. You look absolutely perfect.” I didn’t know if I liked the “Smoking Hot, Little Black Dress” with the spike heels or the “Simple White Sundress” with the Chuck Taylors more. They both looked great on her.  

We came out of the hotel and walked to the railing of the boardwalk. We stood there for a moment and looked at the ocean. It was a clear night with a quarter moon sitting on the waves.

“It’s always a great view but I really love the sound,” she said. It’s soothing and powerful at the same time.”

“Yes, It’s hard to believe anything bad could happen out here. Bad things do; they happen everywhere but it’s hard to imagine nonetheless.”  

“Zack, there is something I need to talk to you about.”

Oh boy, here it comes. I knew it. Things were just too perfect.

“Sure, what is it?”

“I know you’re wondering why I was eating alone.”

“I have to say yes. Knowing all the “whore dogs” on the beach and this beach in particular, including Matt the lifeguard on this stretch, I was wondering why you were dining alone. I know you had to be propositioned at least 10 or 20 times this afternoon. I’m sure you have your reasons and it’s not really any of my business. People always have reasons for what they do. I respect that.”

“Look at me. Don’t you think I have heard every line out there. I was propositioned several times and some of them were very imaginative. I know the type. They have been around me my whole life. They want one thing and when they get it, they’re off to the next conquest. They don’t care about me. I don’t listen to them. I shut them down the moment they start to speak. They eventually backed off. Matt was among them. When he realized where I was coming from, he discouraged the more persistent ones.”

“I can understand your feelings and your desire to be left alone, but a lot of ladies come to the beach in search of male companionship. They want some nice looking guy to lie to them. The really good “whore dogs” are successful 98% of the time. I’m not really sure who is taking advantage of whom.”

“Is that so. 98%? What is your success rate?”

“No where near that.”

“I find that hard to believe?’

“Why?”

“Tanned toned body, sun kissed hair, and drop dead blue eyes? What’s not to like.”

“You are way too kind. Most women don’t look at me that way. So my success rate is not very good.”

She shook her head and said, “The main reason I wasn’t interested in all those other “whore dogs” as you call them, is because I’m a single mom. I have a little girl. She’s 4. It’s just me and her.”

“Her father’s not involved?”

“No. He was my big mistake. He left a long time ago. I have no idea where he is and I don’t care. My parents help out with money, and they watch her some of the time. That’s where she is now. It gives me a break.”

“He’s an idiot.”

“Why do you say that? You don’t anything about me.”

“That’s true but I’m a good judge of people. I’ve been hurt too. I’m pretty sure you’re one of the good ones. So, he’s an idiot.”

“Can I ask one thing of you?”

“Sure.”

“I’m not looking for a boyfriend or a husband. I don’t think you are looking for a girlfriend or a wife. Neither one of us is ready to settle down. There’s too much out there. You know, the stuff around the bend we need to see. I like to travel. I’ve been to a few places, and I want to go to more. I want to do that while I’m young, before my daughter gets to be too much.”

“I understand that. I’ve been traveling most of my life. My dad and I don’t agree on much. He was in the military. You know how that goes, my way or the highway. We never lived longer that 18 months in any place the first 15 years of my life. There is one thing we do agree on and that’s travel. He indoctrinated me in the wonders of visiting new places.”

“So, we have something in common.”

“Yes, that and oysters. My buddy Rat and I are going to Vermont in November. We met a couple that run a surf shop on 17^th street. They do that during the summer and then head north and run a ski shop at Mount Snow in the winter. They’ve been talking up Vermont so we’re going to give it a shot.”

“That sounds like fun.”

“It does. We’ll probably hit some other spots like, New York, or Cape Cod. There’s a lot to see up there.”

“I don’t have very good luck with men. They lie to me and end up hurting me. Since neither one of us is looking for any kind of commitment, will you do me a favor and just be kind to me.”

“Be kind to you?”

“Yes.”

“What makes you think I can do that? What if I’m like all the other guys. Aren’t we all pretty much alike.”

“No, I think you are different. Maybe it’s the magic in those blue eyes. Or maybe it's the magic in the wine I had. It’s a feeling. With you I feel safe.”

“Okay. I’ll do my best to be kind to you. I won’t make any promises I can’t keep, and I won’t lie to you.”

“I see no reason we can’t be kind to each other as we go through this, whatever this is. I have always thought that actions speak louder than words. Words can lie. Actions don’t.”

“I agree. Now can we go get that “ice cold” beer. All this talk has made me quite thirsty. I also want to see if you really know how to dance the “Carolina Bop”. One of the money men behind The Shack is Big George Lineberry. They say he was one of the inventors of the “Carolina Bop”. Most people don’t call it that. They call it the “Shag”, but it’s same dance.

“I could use a beer. Just so you know, I realize this talk of feelings, and such probably has made you very nervous. I will tell you here and now that I will never fall in love with you, so you don’t have to worry.”

“Well, you are making this very difficult for me not to fall in love with you. Just so you know, I have had a couple of young ladies tell me that exact thing in the past. They ended up making that statement into a lie. Fair warning, but it was only a couple.”

“You’re a funny man. How did you end up here in Virginia Beach…” We started our 10 block stroll up to “The Shack” and I told her an abbreviated story of my life. She did the same. We didn’t lie to each other. We didn’t want to.

When we arrived at “The Shack”, Mike, one of the owners was on the door with a couple of his large, ripped bouncers. Mike was pretty buff himself. They all worked out across the street at Wareing’s Gym. Kate had insisted on bringing her I.D. and some money, which she had in a pocket in her dress. I told her that wouldn’t be necessary. She wouldn’t need her I.D. because she was with me. Mike and his bouncers never ID’ed locals or their dates. Also, I had had a good night tip wise, of which she had been a generous part, so she wouldn’t need any money. She said nonsense. She would pay her fair share. I learned a long time ago to not argue with a determined woman.

As we walked in you could tell this was a Beach Bar. I loved this place. It was named “The Shack” so there were rough hewed wood panels on the walls and wood beams on the ceiling. On the left as you entered were two Rene Pierre Foosball tables. I had spent a lot of time and money learning the art of Foosball during the last 2 years. After the tables, a worn wooden bar extended all the way down the left hand side. It was always crowded with glasses and pitchers of beer. The main rule being your glass was the fullest and coldest, if by chance you lost track of your glass.

On the right was a row of church pew booths with tables that had Tiffany lamp shaded lights over them. Even with that the whole place was kind of dark. When Mike and his partner Alfred were putting things together, they didn’t have a lot of money. They got the idea to get their patrons to gather some “attic finds” and hang them on the walls. They were mostly old pictures and things related to the Virginia Beach of the past. There was a large ( 2’ x 3’) black and white picture of the north end of the beach circa 1950 something. I liked it the best. Then there was a pool table, jukebox and a small area where Kate and I managed to dance the Carolina Bop. She was good.

After the jukebox was the restrooms and a small kitchen. To sell beer, you had to sell food. The menu at The Shack was very limited. It consisted of a hamburger, a cheeseburger and a marinated skirt steak, all served with fries. Yes, meat ruled. You could get a salad. It consisted of iceberg lettuce, sliced tomatoes and sliced onion, all the vegetables they served on their burgers. Vinegar and oil was the only dressing. They had a Monday night special every week which was the marinated skirt steak with fries for $5. Rat and I were usually off on Mondays, so we were regulars for this deal.  

It was always crowded with beach locals. There were lifeguards, off-duty waiters, bartenders, cooks, surfers, shop owners and clerks, rich people, poor people, and all in between. They all had bronze skin, insatiable thirsts for ice cold beer at 25 cents a glass, and an appreciation for Beach Music. Mike’s girlfriend Judy was there too. She and another girl, both with golden tans, were paid to hand out free cigarettes on the beach during the day. They walked up and down the beach giving away cigarettes. We were in Virginia (Cigarette Country) and this was back in the day when smoking was an acceptable habit without any restrictions. As with all the beach bars, there was a constant haze of smoke lingering in the air of The Shack. I was never a big smoker, but Rat took full advantage of Judy’s summer job.

Kate and I sat in the back booth and talked. She was a thinker. I like women who think. At closing time, which I think was 1 or 2, Mike’s crew brought out the ammonia. They wiped down everything, tables, bar, walls and floor with strongly infuse ammonia water. A cloud of fumes started in the back of the bar and made its way toward the front door. It was a not too subtle way to tell you, “You don’t have to go home but you can’t stay here”. We left.

As we walked east back to the boardwalk, we passed “Eden Alley” and I pointed to a second story window. “When I first moved here I lived up there in an apartment for a year.”

“I see why you became a Shack regular. It was next door.”

“Yes, that helped.”

When we got to the boardwalk, we leaned against the railing and looked out at a perfect scene, clear sky, soft rippling waves and that distinct sound. We took off our shoes and walked down to the water’s edge. It felt great. We started walking on the hard pack toward the Hilton.

“Most people fall in love with the beach on sunny days or clear nights like this. I didn’t. When I first moved here, to that apartment, it was the end of winter. I came out here one cold rainy night. It was pouring and freezing cold…”

“Like your landlord’s heart.”

“Yes. I had on a sweater, a hooded jacket and a pair of boots but I was soaked and cold to the bone. I headed south towards Rudee Inlet walking close to the water. I passed under all the piers and ended up at the inlet. I got up on the rocks. The ocean was raging, the wind was howling and the rain was coming down by the bucketful.

I started walking back. I got about halfway and I realized I was no longer cold and miserable. I was warm and content. It was at that moment I realized I was in love with the beach and I was pretty sure the beach was in love with me. I know I will spend the rest of my life close to the water.”

“It’s nice to find something that makes you happy”, she said.

“Yes, it is.”

We walked the rest of the way to the Hilton in silence. She had her hand in mine. It didn’t feel uncomfortable. It felt natural, the hand and the silence. When we reached the hotel, she turned to me and kissed me on the mouth. It was a soft yet warm kiss. Not saying a word, she took my hand and led me up to her room. That night we were kind to each other.

She came down 3 or 4 other times that summer. I made her stay with me. There was no sense paying those big bucks for a hotel when my apartment was 2 blocks from the beach and I had all the beach equipment you could possible need, chairs, floats, towels, the works. When she came down in August, she asked if she could bring Sophia, her daughter. I thought that was a big step for her. I said of course. Sophia was great and we had a good time. I was up in D.C. in September, and I spent the night with her.

Rat and I left for Vermont in mid-November. We had a lot of adventures up there. Kate and I lost touch. They say timing is everything. The timing was never right for us. I didn’t come back to Virginia Beach that summer. I worked at a small inn outside New Hope, Pennsylvania. The owners had an apartment in New York, so I got to explore the city. I returned to Vermont that winter and worked at a small inn there. It was a year before I got close to D.C. again. I called Kate’s number, but it had been disconnected. She and Sophia had moved on. I hope Kate found what she was looking for. Like the song says, she and Sophia were “two drifters off to see the world. There is such a lot of world to see”. I was one too.

That time I was at her apartment in D.C., after Sophia had gone to sleep, we were dancing the Carolina Bop in the kitchen. The song was “Far Away Places” by the Embers. I looked at Kate and there were tears flowing down her cheeks. I stopped dancing and asked, “Why are you crying?”

She grabbed my hand and said, “Don’t be silly. I’m just happy”.

She was happy and she was crying? I don’t think I will ever understand women. That’s probably why I enjoy their company so much.

"Where's the cat?"

"I don't know."

 

 

 

Blue Bottle Coffee? What The Hell Is That?

Coffee is a popular beverage morning, noon, and night. From the number of Starbucks stores and the lines surrounding them you would think everyone drinks coffee. I have never been a fan of Starbucks. I think their coffee taste bitter and burnt. I found a coffee I really like in a San Francisco alley. It's called Blue Bottle.

During my wine selling years, I traveled to Italy. Italians take their coffee very seriously. This is a country where coffee is interwoven into the social fabric. It is an integral part of their culture. Mr. Vittorio Marianecci and Mr. Alberto Prealoni, who worked with me at Winebow, took me under their wing and instructed me in the art of Italian "caffè". There are a lot of "do's" and "don'ts in the Italian coffee ritual. They were both born and raised in Italy. Alberto in the north and Vittorio in the south, but their "do's" and "don'ts" were the same. 

In Italy, "caffè" is not just a morning beverage. It is proper at any time of the day or night. "Prendiamo un caffè" (Let's get a coffee) is uttered several times a day, especially in our group of wine people. The "caffè" is typically enjoyed at a "Bar". Some say "Bar" is an acronym for "Banco A Ristoro" (refreshment counter). Some say it is from the English word bar, as in the counter or barrier between the bartender and the customers like in a pub. With all the "linguistics experts" out there, who knows where the term really originated? It doesn't matter because everyone in Italy knows it's the place to get "un caffè".  

In a "Bar" in Italy the focus is on "caffè" not alcohol, although alcohol is usually available. In the United States, when you hear the word "Bar" the focus is on cocktails, liquor, wine, or beer. 

A "barista" is a person skilled at operating the "macchina de caffè" at the "Bar". Although the "Bar" is mainly a coffee focused social hub, it sometimes offers unrelated things like cigarettes, phone cards, newspapers, bus tickets, lotto tickets or stamps. 

Light food options are usually available as well, pastry, panni, cheese, olives, or tramezzini. Even though food is available this is a brief encounter. You pay, stand at the counter, order your caffè, drink it in 20-30 seconds, and go. There are no syrups nor large sizes nor 10 different kinds of milk. It is never taken to go. You don't see Italians walking down the street with a cup of coffee. Tourists yes. Italians no.

Ordering a "Caffè Doppio" (double espresso) signifies you are a tourist. An Italian would never do this. If they wanted more espresso they would order "Un altro caffè" after finishing the first one. Some Italians order "Un caffè ristretto" which is a caffè made with the same amount of coffee grounds but less water. This makes an intense concentrated short shot of coffee. Some order a "lungo' which is a caffè made with the same amount of coffee grounds but more water. This makes a larger less intense cup. 

Sitting at a table with a laptop while drinking a “Venti iced caramel macchiato, upside-down, extra caramel drizzle, light ice, oat milk, half-sweet, blonde espresso, ristretto shots, in a trenta cup” while you answer all your emails is not a part of the Italian coffee culture. There is no social interaction in that scenario, other than the long conversation with the barista placing the order.

Italians have other rules as well. The morning is the only proper time to order a "cappuccino" or any other coffee and milk combination (latte). Italians feel like milk laden coffee drinks are heavy and compliment a light breakfast, but that's all. 

Italians typically have a pastry or fruit or yogurt for breakfast, not the heavy calorie loaded savory breakfast most Americans eat aka  Denny's Grand Slam. The only exception to this milk morning rule is a macchiato, which is a caffè "stained" or "marked" with a dollop of foamed milk. This is a pure Italian drink. You get immediate respect from an Italian barista when you order one. You're not suppose to know about it. 

Italians do not use the word espresso. They order, "un caffè". Espresso is implied. You don't see a lemon peel on the side of the cup. That is mostly an American thing. Yes, you might see it in some regions of southern Italy, but it's rare. The only widely accepted addition is sugar. In some cases a lot of sugar.

Of course, the addition of a splash of grappa or spirit in a "caffè corretto" is acceptable. I witnessed this custom even at breakfast, on several occasions. I am not judgemental, sometimes it is necessary, the old "hair of the dog" thing. "Caffè corretto" does not mean a correct or proper coffee. It means a corrected coffee. It entails a splash, about half an ounce, not a full shot (1.5 ounces) of usually grappa, but sometimes other spirits. Yes, I sometimes participated in this practice. I didn't want to be rude.

Of course, there is the related ritual of "il rasentìn" or the "little rinse". This is a Venetian custom. It occurs just before one is finished with the caffè, with a small amount still remaining in the cup. A bit of grappa or spirit is added to the still warm cup, to rinse the last drops of coffee from the sides and it is then drunk. In some places I have witnessed, after finishing a caffè corretto, a small amount of the same spirit is poured into the mostly empty cup in the same manner to insure it is "good to the last drop". Yes, I sometimes participated in this pagan ritual too. 

According to my two friends, the proper way to consume "un caffè" is standing at the counter, even if you're going to have a panni or pastry. If you sit at a table it cost more. You aren't going to be there long so you always stand. This was a firm rule with them. "Andiamo! We've got wine to taste and sights to see!"

Another key component of the Italian coffee culture is affordability. Even the poor can indulge in the ritual. The price of "un caffè" is normally 1 to 2 Euros. Do they have Starbucks in Italy? (where most coffees are double or triple that) Yes, there are about 40 Starbucks stores in Italy. They are mostly in tourist areas and frequented by tourists. Truth be told, they do get some of the younger generation of Italians, wanting to rebel against the traditions of the "old fogeys". Kids will be kids no matter where you are in the world.  

The history of coffee begins in Ethiopia in the 9th century in the region of Kaffa. This is probably where the name coffee comes from. Coffee first came to Italy in the 16th and 17th centuries with traders from the Ottoman Empire. Over 70 countries grow coffee today with Brazil being the largest. 

It was first served like Turkish coffee. The beans were roasted, ground into a fine powder, then the powder was mixed with water in a small pot, and heated until it foamed. It was removed from the heat so the grounds could settle. Then reheated, sometimes 2-3 times. It never comes to a rolling boil and it is not filtered. 

It is served in a small cup, grounds and all. The drinker waits 10-20 seconds to allow the grounds to settle to the bottom of the cup. The foam helps in this process. Then the drinker sips off the top, being careful not to disturb the sludge on the bottom. Unlike Maxwell House this coffee isn't "good to the last drop".

The early Italian coffeehouses became central to intellectual and social life. They attracted artists, writers and thinkers. Some of the ones dating back to the 1700's are still around today - Caffè Greco in Rome (1760) and Caffè Florian in Venice (1720). These places are not "enter, pay, stand at the counter, order, drink, and go" places. They are more like French cafes where the customers sit and enjoy themselves. 

The French coffee culture is different than the Italian. The French concept of coffee extends to their hedonistic approach to life and food in particular. They are all about pleasure for the senses. A sidewalk café has small tables with all the chairs facing one way, toward the street. The French sit, enjoy "un café crème", a slice of baguette with butter, and watch the world go by. I could go on but that is another story for another day. 

I first started drinking coffee when I was in college. We drank coffee made in a percolator, in huge urns, or drip machines. It was everywhere but was usually a quantity not quality thing.  

In my skiing days, my buddy Rat and I often resorted to "Cowboy Coffee". This only required 3 things, coffee, water, and a pot, any pot. The coffee and water went into the pot. The pot was put on a flame, brought to a boil, let boil for 4 or 5 minutes, take off the flame, let it sit for a few minutes so the grounds can settle, carefully pour into a cup, and be careful not to go for that "Last Drop" because this was definitely unfiltered. This made for a bold, "kick your ass" kind of coffee. Just what was needed for the icy cold Vermont mornings or after late night adventures at the beach. We spent winters in Vermont and summers in Virginia Beach.

A few of the restaurants we worked in back then had "Moka Pots", which were supposed to make espresso. They don't actually. They do make an extremely strong espresso "like" coffee with a tiny bit of foam. They work on steam pressure pushing water through the coffee grounds. The problem is they only achieve 1-2 bars of pressure. A true espresso machine achieves a minimum of 9 bars.

It is estimated that 90% of Italian homes have a "Moka Pot", some several, in different sizes. They are affordable, easy to maintain, and there is no waste, coffee grounds are compostable. The pots last forever, some being passed from generation to generation. The "Moka Pot" is an early morning cultural ritual. The true espresso experience is tied to the local "Bar". Using an expensive home espresso machine is viewed as a poor imitation of the "Bar" experience. 

It's no surprise, that Italians invented the espresso machine. It started in 1884 with Angelo Moriondo and his steam powered coffee machine. In 1901 Luigi Bezzera added the portafilter and multiple heads. Desiderio Pavoni and Achille Gaggia made improvements, as did Carlo Ernesto Valente, leading up to the modern day espresso machines. 

In Italian, the word espresso does not translate literally to "fast or quick," though speed is a nuance of its meaning. Espresso means "pressed out" in Italian. The name describes the method of forcing hot water under high pressure through finely-ground coffee beans. This is done rather quickly. By doing it at 9 - 15 bars of pressure "crema" is extruded, the sign of a well made espresso.

Over the years the machines have evolved to more and more of an automatic nature, almost to the point where barista skills are not needed. All that is needed is a finger to press a couple buttons and a hand to place a cup under the spout. The machine grinds the beans, tamps them down, super heats the water, then injects the water into the grounds at 9-15 bars of pressure and deposits the espresso in the cup. It also has the capability to heat and froth the milk and add that as well to make a cappuccino or latte. Then it dumps the grounds puck and is ready to go again. Some of these machines can make 70 to 80 coffee drinks per hour. Of course, this comes at a price, the best machines can cost 40 to 50 thousand dollars.

There is one of these machines at the dealership where I take my car for service. Place a cup under the spout and press the screen 2 times and wait about 2 minutes for a rather decent espresso, cappuccino, latte, american coffee, or even hot chocolate. This Krea Necta machine is made in Italy and cost about $10,000. Maintenance and upkeep on all the automatic machines is a constant. Is this progress? Baristas don't think so. Neither do the owners of establishments that serve serious espresso. 

How did we, in the United States, get to the "Starbucks  Phenomenon"? That is a very interesting story. It started in Berkeley California, as a lot of culinary innovation has.    

Coffee arrived in North America through European trade routes in the late 1600s, but early colonists largely preferred beer, cider, and rum. Water quality issues made alcoholic drinks safer and more common. The early settlers were predominantly European. They drank tea and coffee as non-alcoholic beverages because, both contained boiled water, which made them safe to drink. No Evian or Perrier back then. Because tea was cheaper, easier, and quicker (tea + hot water) than coffee (roast beans + grind beans + hot water), it was typically the non-alcoholic beverage of choice.  

That changed dramatically after the British Tea Act of 1773 and the resulting Boston Tea Party. Tea became a symbol of British oppression (taxation without representation), coffee took on a patriotic identity. Drinking coffee was framed as a civic duty, and it quickly became the preferred hot beverage of the new republic.

In the 1800's coffee transformed into a household staple. With the westward expansion coffee became a durable frontier beverage. During the Civil War, it was a issued as an army ration. There was also the growth of commercial roasting companies which produced pre-roasted, packaged coffee eliminating the need for home roasting. Most notable was Arbuckle Brothers Coffee, whose "Ariosa" brand was called "The Coffee That Won The West". It included a stick of peppermint candy as a reward for whoever ground the beans. 

The 1900's brought innovations like vacuum sealed cans, instant coffee (including freeze-dried coffee), and decaffeinated coffee (Why? I know, don't say it). Coffee was paired with diners, offices and factory work. It became a fuel for productivity not a craft beverage. 

In the post WWII era (1950's-1960's) there was a sort of coffee slump. Coffee quality declined with commodity grade beans that were over-roasted to hide their defects. This resulted in flat, bitter flavors. Coffee was everywhere but rarely good. This set the stage for a cultural shift to quality.

This shift was led by Alfred Peet in 1966 with Peet's Coffee, Tea & Spices on the corner of Vine and Walnut in Berkeley, California. By coincidence this is right around the corner from one of the biggest culinary innovators of the time, Alice Waters' Chez Panisse. 

Peet was born (1920) and raised in the Netherlands in a family that was deeply involved in the coffee and tea business. As a young man he worked at Twinings Tea in England, learning the tea business. He also traveled to New Zealand and Indonesia, gaining first-hand exposure to coffee growing regions and supply chains. These experiences grounded Peet in a European, origin-focused view of coffee as a craft product, emphasizing freshness, careful roasting, and respect for the raw bean.

Post World War II found Peet in New Zealand and Indonesia but he felt the United States offered more opportunity and independence so, Peet emigrated in 1955 seeking a fresh start. He didn't come to the United States because of American coffee. He came in spite of it, hoping to change it. 

It took him 11 years to open his Berkeley shop. He spent the time amassing capital, learning American tastes, perfecting his roasting approach for the American market, and waiting for the right cultural moment. In mid 1960's, Berkeley was the epicenter for the American Culinary Revolution. Peet determined this was the right time and place for a business that asked customers to rethink something as simple as coffee. This 11 years was a sort of gestation period in which Peet prepared himself, his product, and his audience. 

It did not open to immediate commercial success. It did open to immediate success in a niche of Berkeley professors, students, foodies, and European expatriates. When Peet opened Peet's Coffee, Tea & Spices, he sold whole freshly roasted coffee beans, loose-leaf teas and culinary spices. He did not sell espresso or cafe style drinks. The only brewed coffee or tea that he served was for tasting and educational purposes. It was free. He brewed the coffee in a drip machine, percolator or sometimes a French press and the tea in a teapot. He wanted people to learn the flavor of freshly roasted coffee beans and the proper method of brewing. He was not running a cafe. He sold beans, proper brewing tools and correct brewing technique. 

That being said, his greatest contribution to the American Coffee Revolution of the late 1900's was the mentoring of 3 young men. In 1970, Jerry Baldwin, Zev Siegl, and Gordon Bowker apprenticed at Peet's Coffee, Tea & Spices in Berkeley. In 1971, they opened a company called "Starbucks" in Seattle, Washington. The original Starbucks was a clone of Peet's Coffee, Tea & Spices. It was named after Starbuck, the first mate of the Pequod from the book Moby Dick. They added the s to make it sound better. They almost named their business Pequod, until someone mentioned that not too many people would want to drink a cup of "Pee-quod".   

They opened their store at the corner of Virginia and Western in the Rhode Island Building in Seattle, paying $137.50 per month in rent. They stayed at this location until 1976, when they moved to 1912 Pike Place, when the Rhode Island Building was slated for demolition, a victim of urban renewal. Most people consider the Pike Place location the original store because the other store no longer exists. 1912 Pike Place is 290 feet from the location of the original store.

Like Peet's the only brewed coffee they served was a free sample. They were there to sell beans, brewing tools and correct brewing technique. For the first year and a half they got their roasted beans from Peet's. In 1972, they bought a second hand roaster and Alfred Peet came to Seattle and trained their first dedicated roastmaster, Jim Reynolds.

In the mid 1970's, Alfred Peet started to move out of managing Peet's due to health issues and the fact he was getting older. He had opened a total of 4 stores in the San Francisco area but didn't want to manage a huge retail empire. He eventually sold to Sal Bonavita in 1979, but stayed on as a consultant and roaster. 

The Starbucks partners continued their successful venture until 1980, when Zev Siegl decided he wanted Starbucks to be involved in different things besides retail coffee bean sales. The other 2 partners wanted to focus on the most profitable thing, the bean business. Zev felt he was a "startup guy" and no longer wanted to be a part of a corporate Starbucks. The other 2 partners bought out his share. Zev went on to open several businesses and became a startup mentor.

A business transformation started in 1982, when the partners hired Howard Shultz as Director of Retail Operations and Marketing. In this position, traveling to Milan for a housewares show, Schultz discovered the "Italian Espresso Bar Culture". The first time he walked the streets of Milan, he encountered the sounds of baristas shouting, the aroma of espresso, and the romance of shared space. This was the moment that sparked everything. He supposedly toured 1500 different "Bars" on that trip, but I find that hard to believe. 

He was impressed with the sense of community, the skill of the baristas, and the way the Bar served as a gathering place. This trip fundamentally shaped his vision for what Starbucks could become, transforming it from a coffee bean retailer into the coffeehouse experience we know today. He wanted to create a "third place" - a welcoming community hub between home (1st place) and work (2nd place). 

The 2 Starbucks owners resisted this idea, preferring Starbucks to focus on retail beans. In 1985, Schultz left Starbucks to open his coffeehouse concept "Il Giornale" where he served espresso drinks and food. He opened a total of 3 stores. 

In the meantime (1984), the 2 original Starbucks owners with a group of investors bought Peet's Coffee, Tea & Spices from Sal Bonavita. Bonavita's wife had been diagnosed with cancer and he needed to step away from the business to take care of her. The purchase price was $3.8 million. The Starbucks owners wanted to preserve the legacy of Alfred Peet. He had been their mentor. It was also a strategic move that allowed Starbucks to instantly gain a strong foothold in the San Francisco Bay market. You need to realize that Starbucks didn't buy Peet's. The 2 Starbucks partners and a group of investors did. This was a separate business. 

By 1987, the partners had become stretched thin running both businesses. They decided to sell Starbucks to Howard Schultz for $3.8 million, the exact amount they paid for Peet's. This would get them out of debt. They wanted to focus on Peet's and had no interest in Schultz's vision of a coffeehouse empire, but they weren't stupid. They invested $150,000 in Schultz's new venture. They gave Schultz 90 days to raise the rest of the capital.

During this time, Schultz was faced with a competing bid of $4 million for Starbucks from one of his own original investors in Il Giornale. With the help of Bill Gates Sr. (father of the Microsoft founder), who in a face to face showdown with this bidder, convinced the bidder to back off and "let the kid have his dream". Schultz put together the $3.8 million purchase price. Gates with his son became one of Schultz's investors. They weren't stupid either. Schultz's idea coincided with the budding interest in the craft coffee experience.

In the contract for sale was a 5-year non-compete in the San Francisco Bay market area. The Peet's owners wanted to shield their business from the rapid expansion they anticipated from Schultz. This included an existing Starbucks unit in San Francisco. It was converted to a Peet's. They wanted a protected window to solidify their brand without direct competition from Starbucks. This forced Schultz to focus on expansion in Chicago and Vancouver.

Of course the rest is history. Starbucks today has roughly 41,000 locations worldwide and a presence in 88 global markets. The annual revenues are $37.18 billion USD in 2025 and a net income of $1.856 billion USD (2025). It has a market cap of $109.95 billion USD (2025) and employes 381,000 people worldwide. Schultz has realized his dream. 

Starbucks success stems from its ability to sell an emotional experience rather than just a commodity, even though that commodity has an infinite number of possible combinations and consistency across locations. This makes people willing to wait in long lines for a chance at its "affordable luxury". Sometimes very long lines.

It is interesting to note that most of the current Starbucks stores don't use an Italian made espresso machine. Their current machines are custom made exclusively for them by a Swiss company, Thermoplan AG. They started out using Italian made La Marzocco machines but in the late 1990's, as they grew from 1,000 to 13,000 units, there were problems. 

The problems centered on consistency, speed and efficiency. An espresso shot in New York needed to taste the same as one in Seattle regardless of the skill of the barista. The manual machines required a skilled barista. The fully automated machines required a person who could push a button. The fully automated machines were also quicker. So starting in 1999, Starbucks switched over to fully automated machines produced by Thermoplan AG. By 2005 the transition was complete. All their stores now have fully automated machines. Baristas are now taught people skills, machine maintenance, recipe memorization, milk frothing, coffee bean origins, POS systems and Starbucks history. There is no need to train them on how to make the perfect espresso. The machine does that automatically.

I have always enjoyed espresso and have had a machine in all my restaurants. They started out as small home models and progressed to a single head commercial machine. I think it was an Astra, which is made in California. They all worked fine and I was the main customer. 

After we sold the last restaurant, I had to go back to the Moka Pot I had used from my wine selling days for espresso like coffee. We use a drip pot and a French Press too. Of course we also have a modern drip coffee machine. We started out using Cuisinart coffee machines and then switched to the Ninja machine because it had a built-in frother and had settings to make espresso style single cup portions. Close but not the real thing. 

The coffee we have used in the past was a mix. We used Cafe Bustelo for the Moka Pot and Gevalia or Joffrey or Lavazza for the drip pot. We had used Joffrey (a local company) at the Crazy Conch Cafe for all our coffee, drip and espresso. It is now used by Disney World. We were ahead of the curve on that one. It helped that one of the owners, Robert Hickey, was a friend and customer. 

In all these situations, we used a dark roast. We like that deep rich taste. Always whole beans that we grind ourselves, so we have had a burr grinder too. We don't use cream or sugar. We drink our coffee black. We do use frothed milk with the Ninja machine when we are making an individual "cappuccino" like single cup. We have no regulation on the time of day for this cup either. Getting old has it's advantages. You don't have to follow any rules.  

On a trip to San Francisco to visit Jared, Ashley and the grandbabies, Ashley introduced us to a "new" brand of coffee that originally started in the San Francisco / Oakland area. It was called Blue Bottle Coffee. They sell whole freshly roasted coffee beans online and they have several cafes where they serve their different blends and different methods for brewing them. 

Our first exposure was in 2015, when we were in downtown San Francisco and stopped at the Hayes Valley Kiosk, which happens to be in an alley close to City Hall. It looked like a former garage, which it might have been. It was a little unusual but the coffee was outstanding. It reminded me of some of those Bars in Italy. We found a location in Palo Alto, which was closer to where they lived  in Mountain View. It got to be a regular thing.

Blue Bottle was founded by James Freeman, a former clarinetist who became deeply interested in coffee roasting. Around 2002, he started roasting beans in a small potting shed in Oakland inspired by a simple idea: coffee should be consumed within 48 hours of roasting. He roasted 6 pounds of beans at a time. He sold his beans at farmers markets. 

In addition to the freshly roasted beans, he started serving freshly brewed coffee. He was sort of like Alfred Peet in this respect, except he charged for it. He was in that group of coffee pioneers  that made up the "Third Wave" of coffee. The "First Wave" was when coffee became widely available and part of daily life, with the focus on convenience, low cost, and consistency. The "Second Wave" was when coffee shifted from a basic commodity to a café experience, emphasizing espresso drinks, darker roasts, and a more social coffee culture. The "Third Wave" was when coffee became a craft beverage, focusing on single-origin beans, transparent sourcing, lighter roasts, and precise brewing methods (like pour-over with tools like the Hario V60). 

Freeman came up with the name Blue Bottle as an homage to one of the first Vienna coffeehouses called "Hof zur Blauen Flasche" (House Under The Blue Bottle). It opened around 1683. Back then most people couldn't read or write, so they hung a sign with an actual blue bottle. Freeman followed suit but used Japanese designer, Oksana Divina to come up with a logo of a simple blue bottle. He really liked it. He believed that less is more. He was broke at the time because he was just starting his business, so he paid her with one pound of fresh roasted coffee beans per week for a year. Barter is good, especially when you start from nothing.

At the farmers markets, he started with a folding table and bags of beans. People liked his coffee and word spread. Word of mouth is the best kind of advertising. He quickly advanced to a cart and selling brewed coffee as well. In the beginning it was drip brew and pour overs. Both of these methods were slow but produced a great cup of coffee. As his business grew he moved into espresso drinks as well. They were faster and most people expected a cafe/cart set up to have an espresso machine. Sometimes you have to give people what they want in order to educate them into doing what you want. 

By the time we became aware of Blue Bottle, the brand had been around for about 10 years and had about 19 cafes. We liked the Hayes Valley Espresso. We started a subscription for a couple bags per month. We bought a couple of their drippers and a Hario Buono Kettle. We started making pour over coffee. We even purchased a couple of their blue Moheim Stone Mugs and a Miir Commuter Cup. We were into Blue Bottle Coffee. Anytime we were near a cafe we would drop in and get a cup as well as a couple bags of beans. Today there are about 78 cafes in the United States and a few globally, mostly in Asia. There are 5 in Northern Virginia. One close to Falls Church where Sally's brother Bob lives. We have been there several times. 

This love affair with Blue Bottle continued until 2022 when we took a trip to Seattle. We stayed in a AirBnB in an area called Belltown. We frequented Macrina Bakery & Cafe in the mornings for pastry and cappuccino. It was right around the corner from where we were staying. I noticed they used a local brand of coffee, Caffe Umbria. I also noticed this brand was used in every restaurant we went to. It was quite good. A lot of the locals thought so too. They have a subscription program as well. 

Even though Seattle is the birthplace of Starbucks, where there are about 130 locations, most locals prefer other roaster / cafes. There are about 700 other coffee roaster / cafes to choose from. Seattle takes its coffee seriously. 

Blue Bottle organizes its offerings into three main categories: signature blends, single-origin coffees, and unique prepared beverages. The Blue Bottle offering we like the best is the Hayes Valley Espresso. Even though it is roasted for espresso we use it for pour overs and now as drip coffee. It works especially well in the Ninja machine. It is chocolate-forward, low-acid house espresso designed for balance and consistency. Although it is roasted for use in an espresso machine, it works well in drip machines. At least, Sally and I think so. 

After that trip to Seattle, Sally and I started tasting other brands. Some of them were really good. Some not so much but that's the price for being adventuresome. Just like Anthony Bourdain said "... you are never going to find the perfect meal without a constant willingness to experience a bad one." It's sad he is no longer with us.

James Freeman sold a 68% majority stake in Blue Bottle Coffee to Nestlé in September of 2017. A year later, he sold the remaining 32% when Nestlé exercised its option to buy them. He did it mainly for the financial security for him and his family. He took the money but didn't run. He is still involved in different aspects of Blue Bottle but not the day to day operations. He and his investors made several hundreds of millions of dollars on the sale. 

As you can imagine, the cost of coffee went up after the sale. It is currently about $22 per 12 ounce bag. It's no longer a 1 pound bag. That changed in 2008 for several reasons. 

One, freshness and the 2 week window. The 12 ounce bag lasts most consumers 14 days before it starts going stale. The pound bag often lasts longer than this peak flavor window of 14 days. 

Two and probably the most important reason, hiding price hikes or what most people call activation of the "Grocery Store Shrink Ray". At your local grocery store that "Half Gallon" of ice cream is no longer 64 ounces, more likely 48 ounces unless you are buying Blue Belle. Yes, it's about the money. The "Shrink Ray" is the practice where manufacturers reduce the size or quantity of a product while keeping the price the same. Deceptive? I think so.

Third, shipping and logistics. The 12 ounce bag plus packaging keeps everything under the 1 pound limit for certain USPS discount shipping rates. Blue Bottle ships everything USPS.

Just like most things, once a few companies started packaging in 12 ounce bags, now everyone does. It's become the new standard. Just like Blue Belle, there are a few coffee companies that still sell in 16 ounce bags, like "Try-Me Coffee" in New Orleans. 

Sally and I have tried several brands. We have settled on La Colombe Corsica most recently. It's a brand from Philadelphia that started in 1994. The partners, Todd Carmichael and J.P. Iberti got the idea for the company when they met in a "Grunge Bar" in Seattle in 1987. It took a while for them to get everything together. Carmichael had worked as a laborer / roaster and barista at Starbucks in 1982, the early years. Small world? La Colombe is French for "the dove". Iberti is French and was working as a coffee roaster at another company in Seattle. La Colombe is definitely a part of the "Third Wave" of coffee  roasters. A lot of top tier chefs use the brand in their restaurants, aka Michael White, Jean-Georges Vongerichten, Steven Starr, and Dominique Ansel. They even use it at the Ritz-Carlton in Sarasota, close to my house.

We get it overnight from Amazon. It costs $11.36 and yes that's for a 12 ounce bag. It is similar to Blue Bottle Hayes Valley Espresso in taste. The Hayes Valley is currently $22.00 for a 12 ounce bag. As you can see, La Colombe Corscia is about half the price. We are retired now and on a fixed income so that's quite a savings. 

Our family and friends will occasionally buy us a bag of the Hayes Valley Espresso as a present for Christmas or a birthday. They know how much we love it. Even though the company has been bought and sold a couple times, the taste is the same. It's a present that is always appreciated. It is great coffee.       

 I often wonder why I don't have nostalgic moments with a cup of bad coffee when I get served one. I certainly had enough cups of bad coffee in my youth. Smell and taste are uniquely wired to our memory. We all have sensory memories of certain food items and particular dishes we had when we were young, things our mothers, grandmothers, or other family member made. Most of the time these things were not expensive, high quality or particularly well made. They are things that connect us to the past. Memory is not a perfect recording. It tends to smooth out the flaws. We aren't remembering just the food. We are also remembering who we were when we ate or drank it.  

For some reason, a cup of bad coffee doesn't do this for me. Have I become a coffee snob? Has my sensory system been transformed? Have my expectations permanently shifted? Does refinement outweigh nostalgia? Has my brain recalibrated its baseline? I don't know. I do know that if given a choice of a cup of "Good To The Last Drop" Maxwell House or a cup of Blue Bottle Hayes Valley Espresso, I always go for the Blue Bottle. Of course if there is no choice and Maxwell House is the only one on offer, I will drink the Maxwell House. I like coffee. I like my coffee black. No sugar. No cream. As Simon and Garfunkel wrote, "Hello darkness my old friend. I've come to talk with you again."