Hydra at The Beginning, an Angel at The End
My experience learning how to make proper coffee, and my thoughts on what makes for a good space
Learning about coffee making, and working at being skilled at making coffee, has been an interesting endeavor. Last Thursday, I took my first proper course in coffee making at Nomad, which as most likely the most well-known coffee shop here in Barcelona. The Nomad Coffee Bar, which my teacher called a unicorn, only serves coffee. There’s no tea, no juice, no PSLs, no snacks, only coffee made in the best ways possible by a team of five baristas cranking out 200 to 300 coffees a day. As proof of their quality, the store maintains a 4.6 star rating on Google Maps after 2,200 reviews. I want to learn from the best no matter the subject.
I’ve had a lot of odd jobs in my life. My first job was at Boston Market, a chain of restaurants well-known for their rotisserie chicken and tasty mac and cheese. I worked in the camera department at a Longs Drugs where I also rented out movies on VHS. At a before-and-after school program with kids, a screen printing company doing sales, as an assistant for a photographer who was constantly stoned but had two cute dachshunds, at Myspace, at Disney. A mixed bag, for sure. So it’s been interesting telling people that I was taking this course in coffee making as the reactions have run the gamut. In some conversations I’ve felt a bit infantilized, like, why would I be doing something so menial? Almost like they thought it was beneath me, or perhaps more likely, they were projecting and they felt it was beneath themselves? Others have been supportive and understanding of the greater vision I have, that this is a necessary step along a larger path. A coffee shop being akin to a blank page, a space that I can impart my creative vision onto. And I feel there’s nothing so beautiful or human as “breaking bread” with a stranger or friend.
The class was held in Nomad’s roastery which is located in basically the northiest north part of Barcelona right before it becomes the next city. Basically the farthest I’ve been in Barcelona without leaving Barcelona, though it was only a 20 minute bike ride from my apartment. As I was walking up I could smell the coffee wafting from down the street, an intoxicating smell, for sure. Once inside, there was a room upstairs that was set-up for me like a literal lab, tables prepared with machines and instruments and learning materials, and connected was an interior terrace filled with green and leafy plants and light spilling in around the space. Somehow it felt both comfortable and futuristic at the same time. The course itself was separated into three parts: what is coffee/the history of coffee, different ways of brewing coffee, and then training on an espresso machine.
My teacher was a fascinating man. He was born in Venezuela, though some of his grandparents were Italian, but he had a grandmother who lived in Louisiana, which is where he learned English. His father was a Q Grader, a person who scores coffee which dictates it’s value, and he started making espresso when he was only seven. He was a nerdy fellow in the best way possible, someone who cares deeply for coffee, and doesn’t really like leaving his apartment. This is the perfect person to learn from.
In learning about the history and origins of coffee my teacher brought up a great point, that coffee is a fruit, and the most important part of a good cup of coffee is sweetness. Sweetness, then body, then acidity, never bitterness. Culturally, we think of coffee as a “bean,” which at least from my American perspective, has a totally different connotation from saying a coffee cherry. The traditional way of making coffee was to pick the coffee cherries from the tree and then putting them out into the sun to dry, which made it easier to peel the fruit away from the seed. This process created fermentation and brought a sweetness from the pulp of the cherry surrounding the pit. Viewing coffee this way made me realize how much marketing has historically skewed the way people think of coffee.
The next session was in methods of coffee making, focusing on a V60 pour over, an Aeropress, and the traditional French press. The goal was to highlight the importance of the process. This is where the science and art of making coffee comes together. Elements like the grind size of the beans, the amount of water you use, the amount of time you let the coffee steep in order to not under or over extract the coffee. Intellectually these are things I understood, I think this when I cook, but this process was helpful because we made three versions of each method. One that was the correct or optimal way to make them, then two versions that were purposefully bad, under and over extracted, so that I could really taste the difference between them. Learning by failing is always helpful, even when you purposefully fail in this case. The under and over extracted coffees were super gross. To me, they either tasted salty, or like lime juice. Literally only a minute or two can make a pot of coffee taste horrible.
The last part of the course was learning how to use an espresso machine. I must admit it felt quite intimidating! I’ve never used an espresso machine and it felt foreign and imposing. This is the part that I badly wanted to learn. Pulling an amazing shot of espresso is critical to a great coffee shop, and not only that, but doing so consistently. Thankfully, once I started using the machine, I felt at ease. I ended up making some rather amazing espresso and some halfway decent latte art, clearly more practice is needed here to get to the level I want to be at.
All in all it was a fantastic experience which exceeded my expectations. It was so nice to be able to ask lots of questions, to understand what I shouldn’t or cannot do, and generally have that reassurance that this is something I want to explore more. That I can easily see myself behind an espresso machine chatting people up, asking them about their day and hoping that I can make a positive impression on them. The coffee is important but it’s not the point for me, the point is making a connection.
Tangentially related, I’ve been thinking a lot about the space of my café and what it should feel like. My approach is to create a shop that showcases my interests, with an eclectic and timeless look, which is almost home-like in it’s feeling. I love the idea of a space that changes and evolves over time, that there’s one way that the space needs to look or be. There will be a sense of consistency, of order, but never “perfection.” What makes a space really special is a few key elements: light, contrast, and surprise.
I think about my last apartment in Los Angeles as a great example of these principles. The apartment faced both west and north, with the north side facing an apartment complex which bounced light back into my apartment, meaning the space a beautiful ambient light throughout the day. The photo above was the family room that faced west so it received and intense amount of light starting in the afternoon. I decided to that it could be amped up further and painted the room a beautiful dusty pink color and added pink curtains that made the space glow an incredible orange-y tone. To bring in contrast there was a beautiful olive green couch, as well as the tray you see above, that paired beautifully with everything. And for a bit of surprise, there were always all kinds of knick knacks in bowls, matchbooks collected over time one by one, dried flowers, and random pieces of art on the wall that gave the space a charm and character that no one else had. There was no better feeling than lying on the couch on a warm afternoon as the curtain billowed in the wind and a good record played.
So many cafés face the problem of sameness, which was perfectly highlighted in Kyle Chayka’s piece titled The tyranny of the algorithm: why every coffee shop looks the same. As he astutely points out:
To court the large demographic of customers moulded by the internet, more cafes adopted the aesthetics that already dominated on the platforms. Adapting to the norm wasn’t just following trends but making a business decision, one that the consumers rewarded. When a cafe was visually pleasing enough, customers felt encouraged to post it on their own Instagram in turn as a lifestyle brag, which provided free social media advertising and attracted new customers. Thus the cycle of aesthetic optimisation and homogenisation continued.
This describes culture broadly this at this point, everything feels so referential at this point, but is particularly damning when it comes to the design of spaces. Cafés and restaurants have come to look like “the idea” of a restaurant rather than the reflection of a proud owners personal taste.
Of course, there are exceptions. There are folks like Studio Modijefsky who are at the top of the game when it comes to interior design. An Amsterdam studio ran by nine women “carefully design everything that is seen, passed and touched by a visitor for the duration of their stay whether it’s five seconds or five hours.” What a great way to approach design. Their work spans classical to contemporary and every project they launch feels unique and special, unlike anything you’ve seen before. The photo above in the middle where the wood has been bent to resemble fabric? That’s them 💙
Will Gamble Architects recently designed a Victorian home in London which they created in a style they dubbed “soft minimalism,” which they describe as “defined by curved lines, gentle tonal hues, natural materials and carefully curated spaces." I think their use of materials in the space is really interesting, bold gestures that make an impact yet don’t feel overwhelming. It feels minimalist but not boring in any way. I particularly love the the oak headboard with all the knots and texture, “pippy” as they call it, as well as the stunning heavily variegated marble for the bathroom sink, iconic.
Further, I think people are craving a sense of personality and taste in a space. Fashion brand Lemaire, well-known for beautiful silhouettes and striking color palettes, opened it’s first flagship in Tokyo, nestled within a former private residence in the serene Ebisu neighborhood. Ebisu House, as they describe it, is a space that is “no longer a home, not yet a boutique.” This idea of creating something in-between, something ambiguous, something outside of the norm of what we think of a retail space, is exciting to me. I hope to bring elements like this into my future café to make it feel like something you need to visit, something special. A place so special you wish to visit it again and again.