I raise an eyebrow, surprised that she didn’t give me a single origin shot considering everything we just talked about.
“It’s the most popular choice,” she says breezily, pushing the plate of pastries closer to me. An almond croissant and a pain au chocolate, two of my favorites. “I wasn’t sure how much of a purist you are, or if you prefer more fruity or bold profiles. This one is balanced with a higher caffeine content from the Robusta, but the nice crema and smooth flavor of the Arabica. It makes excellent shots.”
I nod, smiling. That this young woman learned all that from Jake is astounding. More so, that he put that much thought into what the end result would taste like—well, it’s like him, isn’t it?
From what I know of him so far, he doesn’t do anything without purpose. I like that he has a thoughtful approach to life, and to his coffee. That he has the recipient or end user in mind from the beginning and pays attention to the slightest details while crafting.
I do the same thing with my plants and floral arrangements.
Suddenly, I can’t wait to go make more of them, but the pastries Truvy brought me are tempting.
“I can’t eat both of these,” I tell her honestly. “I had a hearty breakfast before leaving home.”
Granted, that was a few hours ago, but I really don’t need to eat two decadent pastries right now.
“Why don’t you split them with me?” I suggest. “Make yourself a coffee and hang with me until the morning rush starts.”
She beams at that and stands. “I’d love to.”
As Truvy heads off to get what she needs, I can’t help wondering what time the morning rush actually starts around here. In Denver, the coffee shops near me were always slammed first thing in the morning, often with a line waiting for the doors to open. It’s after eight here already, and I’ve not seen a single other customer yet.
“Oh, and please tell me what I owe for all this,” I call to Truvy over the whirring of a grinder.
“It’s on the house.”
Her reply fills me with warmth, but also gives me pause. Jake has been bringing me drinks and pastries all week. The least I can do is pay for my own in his coffeehouse. Somehow, I doubt he’d let me if he were here, but he’s not here.
No one is, except for me and Truvy—and she’s paid to be here.
“Are Saturdays slow-start mornings?” I ask as Truvy joins me again.
She’s brought glasses of water and made herself a latte that smells fantastic. Almost floral.
“What are you drinking? Is that… lavender?” I’ve never had a lavender latte. Teas, sure, but I can’t believe I’ve not tried it in my coffee.
Well, I can believe it.
I come from a family of espresso lovers. I never even put milk in my coffee until I went to college.
“Yup,” Truvy says proudly. “You want me tomake you one?”
“I’m good. I’ll stick to water for now, but I definitely want to try one another time. Here,” I gesture to the baked goods. “Pick your favorite, or we can split them. There’s no way I can eat all that right now.”
And I hate for it to go to waste.
Whoever Jake contracts with for the pastries he sells is a true artist. The tastiest scones, fluffiest meringues, and lightest brioches. Even these croissants are baked to perfection, light and flaky. Heaven in every bite. That’s hard to do consistently, especially with high-altitude baking. I could definitely use some pointers.
“It’s been slow around here lately,” Truvy admits sheepishly. “Great for studying, but it makes for some long days.”
“Is that normal for the season?” I’d think more people would want hot drinks with as cold as it still is in the mornings.
Not to mention, this is seriously the best coffee I think I’ve ever had.
Truvy shakes her head, her dark ponytail swaying with the movement.
“I’m not sure why things have slowed. Usually, we’re slammed in the mornings, but the last few months have been quieter.”
“Maybe business will pick up now that the snow’s melting?” I suggest as she takes a bite of croissant.
