Short stories, fresh beans.
Three things we keep writing down before a lot sells through.
How we buy a lot
A lot without a name doesn’t get a bin. We cup samples on Abbott — small bowls, the same kettle, a notebook that looks like a grocery list. If we can’t say where it grew and who milled it, it goes back.
We buy through exporters and one Oakland importer who still picks up the phone. The roast is already done when the beans arrive; we are not a roaster. Our job is the second half: taste, portion, date the lot.
Dates matter because coffee isn’t wine. A bin that sits becomes a story we don’t want to tell. When it’s ready, we pack the beans. When it’s gone, that origin leaves the board until the next lot we can stand behind.
Grind size without a lab
We don’t have a particle-size lab. We have a hand grinder, a few burr settings, and the brew you name in the email.
Pour-over wants medium-fine — like table salt that still has grit. Drip is a notch coarser, so the basket doesn’t choke. French press is coarse, almost cracked pepper, or the cup turns muddy. Espresso is fine; if you have a scale, start around 18 grams in.
Name the brew. We’ll mark the lot. If the first cup is sharp, grind coarser. If it’s hollow, go finer. That’s the whole method.
The tin and the cupboard
Air is the enemy. Light is the accomplice. The freezer is a rumor that makes beans taste like the onions you stored beside them.
Keep the beans sealed, in a cupboard, not on the windowsill. Drink them in a few weeks. The date on the lot is a suggestion with teeth.
The 4oz tasting tin is for a second origin — a small cup of somewhere else, not a decoration. Finish it. Then write us which one you want in 12oz.