Lawrencians

There's been something lacking here recently: Words about coffee.

Clearly, this is an odd state of affairs, and one that cannot abide. The United States Barista Championship was this weekend, contested while I was marathoning. I checked my twitter afterwards, and followed along with Sprudge's unique commentary. I could have written about that, but didn't, opting instead to hash out a rather long tale of foot bleeding and hip mobility, hill climbing and rock hopping. Simply, I've never competed, and thus don't have much in the way of commentary on the subject.

What I decided to do instead was ambitious, a Joycian odyssey (see what I did there?) in to Lawrence's own coffee bar scene. It's big, for a smaller town, and quality too. It's a lot of good things, but it's proven hard to write about. Or rather, it's proven hard to condense. There are different shops with different cultures, dingy basements to Starbucksy Starbucks. There is variety, but mostly, there is a lot to cover.

And so we will start, in the great tradition of fantasy novels, with a map.

This is downtown Lawrence on Google Maps, after typing in "coffee".

Going Out For Coffee

I imagine my response was not typical.

The owner of the coffee bar/s at which I work informed me that I'd be getting a week of paid time off, to be taken over the holiday, and wasn't that great? I stopped short of asking if I had to take it, and if perhaps I could just scrub floorboards instead.

"Well, um, if you do need hours, call me. I'm not going anywhere. At all. So I can work. If you want. Please. No really. Don't hesitate." I couldn't have sounded more like a desperate would be boyfriend, grasping at the unraveling strands of an unraveling relationship.

He assured me that they would be all right, and that I might relax. Perhaps I could go somewhere, or maybe just find ways to entertain myself around Lawrence. I said that I would think of something, knowing well enough that I probably wouldn't.

So, yesterday. Day one. I awoke whenever my body felt like it, and went about preparing oatmeal and coffee. The former was fine, the latter, strangely, was off. It tasted just fine - good even. I brewed using my usual pour over technique, and used some very good beans (that I need to review, probably). But as I sat, sipping in my black jeans, I realized that I didn't need to wear the jeans at all. And that informed me of the problem.

So I kept the jeans on, found a suitable shirt to toss on as well, and headed out the door. I drove downtown, and walked through the "wintry mix" to a coffee shop. My shoes had gotten soggy, my hair matted, and the rest of me, cold. I could have stayed home, saved my feet and my money. But as I looked around, seeing the people, hearing the sounds of grinding and hissing and popping, mostly, just caking myself in the atmosphere, I knew why I didn't.

I ordered a double espresso, sat at the bar, and sipped. I looked out the windows at the people walking by, hunched and half jogging, trying to dodge the precipitation. I saw others reading books, entranced by laptops, and chatting with someone else. There was flannel and jeans, thick rimmed glasses and jazz that sounded like it was filtered through a sock. And the coffee tasted right.

Starbucks and the Zeitgeist

They New York Times began its profile of Howard Schultz - or more accurately, Starbucks, as the behemoth turns 40 - with a dictum: Raise your hand if you remember when Starbucks was cool.

I glazed over the rest of the piece, not because that line turned me off (it didn't), but because it's not a new story. Starbucks rose meteorically, embodied the 90's as purely as boy bands and Bill Clinton, then fell hard. It's back now, financially.

But the piece throws down that initial gauntlet; Starbucks, it says, is no longer the tastemaker; Starbucks is no longer cool.

Perhaps, mid-westerner that I am, I'm not qualified to comment. Trends arrive here after they've long fizzled on the coasts, and New York is, after all, New York. Tastes are made there, then exported to the rest of the world, in fashion, food, and everything else.

It is true, at least, that Starbucks' financial rise from the ashes does not signal a similar reclamation of its cultural standing. Starbucks will never be coffee the way it was, the way Kleenex is tissue. Neither does it have that elitist appeal. There are local coffee shops everywhere now, selling single origin seasonally available beans, with pour over bars and latte art "throwdowns".

If that lost fringe signifies Starbucks is not cool, I imagine Schultz and Co. are fine with that. Tastemakers are elite, but they are also few. And Starbucks attracts the masses - if not in 90's numbers.

Though Lawrence is a sample size of one, I think it's nonetheless instructive. There is no shortage of would be elites, of people whose tastes strive to appear refined. I should know, as, in all honesty, I'm probably one myself. These people will tell you that any downtown cafe outclasses Starbucks, that there are local roasters and purveyors of Broadway, PT's, that no one who really has a taste for coffee need venture in to the land of the green apron and frappuccino.

They aren't wrong. But here's the thing: Every semester, the University Daily Kansan polls students on favorite eateries, shops, and yes, cafes. Starbucks wins. Every. Year. Is it a popularity contest? Yes. Is it won, largely because of the uncultured palates of Johnson County fraternity/sorority freshmen? Ye... Perhaps.

Does it matter? Frankly, I have no idea.