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I woke up this morning (January 19th) riddled with anxiety. I knew it was now or never to begin Leg Two of the Valleys of the Susquehanna journey that I’d started before the holiday craziness. Pennsylvania had just been pummeled by one winter storm and the electronic signs on the freeway were already blinking: Winter Weather Advisory Thursday AM, Plan Travel Accordingly. So today it would be. A gorgeous, blue Wednesday sandwiched in between the storms.

We’ll be starting things off in the little town in Elysburg, home to my cousin, a radio station, and not much else. It’s not technically a town, being officially termed a “census-designated place.” There’s the awesome Knoebel’s Grove Amusement Park nearby, which is what everyone around these parts associates with Elysburg. The town itself sits in the middle of a lush valley just south of the eastern branch of the Susquehanna River. The river forks just north of Sunbury to the west, which makes this whole area the heart of the Valleys region. Beautiful, bucolic…and as we saw last month, full of burgeoning college towns. Bloomsburg University, in fact, is less than ten miles from Elysburg itself. I’d go so far as to call “college” an industry in this area. It’s populated enough to be convenient but isolated enough to be peaceful. I hope that’s a balance that lasts.

There is also coffee here, and good coffee at that. The name of the cafe I decided up was itself impressive: Profile Coffee and Roasters, Inc. Sounds artistic. Understand, Elysburg is a town without a downtown, or at least without much of one. I’d expected townhouses and clustered shops, but it’s really quite spread out like an old Appalachian holler often is. People here are farmers and workers, not college kids and hipsters. Profile sticks out like a sore thumb. It actually feels like the nucleus of what could one day become a downtown. It embodies “downtownness,” from the funky lettering on the stately brick edifice, to the advertisement of its commitment to LGBT rights displayed on its Google Maps offering. There’s intent here. Intent to make this business a center of something.

As a matter of fact, progress was very much on display inside the shop. I came at an inauspicious moment; the common room was in a state of disarray, and as I was standing at the counter, an elderly chap put one hand on each of my arms and shuffled me out of the way before an incoming stainless-steel counter on the move could flatten me. They’re obviously scaling up. They seemed surprised that someone even had the poor timing to stop by in the middle of this. Being caught off guard didn’t dampen their hospitality one bit, however, and I was quickly given a fresh brew.

The coffee I got was Brazilian. Now, Brazilian coffees are often known for their unique flavors and low acidity. The good thing about low acidity coffee is that it has a smooth finish. It also tends to be described as “bright,” and that’s how I’d describe this particular roast. Low-acid coffees also lean towards being slightly bitter, and this one was, but not on the level of an ultra-bitter robusta. That’s oftentimes the “bitter diner coffee” that I whine about. No, this bitterness was dialed back by an almost airy quality. Really, when I used the word “bright” before I was right on track. This was a lovely breakfast blend. You can tell immediately that it’s a local roaster since the flavor palette is unlike the more common blends used at the restaurants in the surrounding countryside. Again, a charming morning cup. I couldn’t get any more information because, well…it was sheer chaos in there. I’ll have to follow up.

Here’s something else about Profile and Elysburg that struck me: They are another study in contradictions like the towns in the western valleys. The folks doing the renovations inside were fascinating; one was clearly a non-conformist, while another proudly displayed a “Blue Lives Matter” t-shirt. And they weren’t trying to strangle each other. How fitting that this cosmopolitan crowd would come together in a coffeehouse! Again, this Enlightenment-era institution comes through as a force for civility. Civil respect is more common than you might think around here in these polarized times. At worst, a look askance and a “bless your heart” are far more common than genuine bigotry in the Pennsylvania countryside. The reasons that people vote the way they do are actually nuanced and complicated, but one would never guess that by scrolling through the feed on one’s computer screen. That’s why travel is good. It’s not about getting out of the house. It’s about getting out of yourself.

And with that, I’m heading down the road to Sunbury. If Williamsport is the informal “capital’ of the Pennsylvania Wilds region, Sunbury is undoubtedly the same for the Valleys area. Oh yes, we’ll be going to the Wilds eventually, but for now, we’re headed to the ancestral homeland of my family and the cultural center of Northumberland County. I’ll be posting that in a few days. Until then, stay caffeinated.

the building…

the entrance…

the copious shelving…

the scrabble…

the town center…

Hey readers, just checking in to say Happy Holidays, Merry Christmas, Joyous Yule, a beautiful Solstice, and Io Saturnalia. Did I cover all the bases? Yeah? OK, good. Well, due to the general craziness of the holiday season, I’m waiting until the second week of January to kick off Leg Two of the journey into the valleys of the Susquehanna River’s tributaries and the unique coffee culture that’s developing in fits and starts within this bulwark of Appalachian insularity. The hope is that a week after New Year’s, things will be calm enough around here to hit the road with a fresh stock of supplies and a new set of potential spots.

Lucky for me (and you) that I still managed to find exotic coffee right in the suburbs of Harrisburg in an unexpected place: Zimmerman’s Candies. Few Harrisburgers even seem to know where it is, but when you explore the winding streets of Paxtang, you never know what you’ll find. This place is a throwback to the old days of Harrisburg in the 1960s when there were shops everywhere and potholes nowhere. It’s a serious candy lover’s candy shop, with beautiful, multicolored treats and a melange of smells that must be something akin to what Santa’s workshop smells like.

And then there’s the coffee. Unexpectedly, there’s a whole shelf of their proprietary coffee called Zimmerman’s Rose Garden Coffee. Who the heck knew? Well, now I do, and you do too. This particular one was a Guatemalan. Obviously, I went for it because of my proclivity for South American blends, especially new or rare ones. I expected the typical richness and full mouthfeel, but instead, I found something quite different and wonderful. It all started when I opened the package and had to do a double-take (or double-whiff). There was an unmistakable scent of citrus, burned wood, and flowers. Citrus you usually see in African blends, but here it was, smack-dab in the middle of the bouquet of a Suramericano. Funny enough, it vanished in my first sip, replaced by those floral notes. They were persistent and they sort of rotated on the tongue. It was truly unique. Just when I think this city has run out of secrets…

So there we go. A little treat to tide you all over until I head back up the river and into the mountains to seek new brews and new adventures. Until then, stay caffeinated and have a happy holiday!

the brew…

the storefront…

the signage…

the grounds…

Happy Thanksgiving, caffeine fiends! It’s time for leg two of this sojourn up the western valleys of the Susquehanna. The leg in question has already been accomplished of course, but with the holiday craziness it’s taken me until now to have time to do the trip justice in writing. From my last port of call in Middleburg, I decided to go over the hill to the next valley where lay the town of Mifflinburg. I have no idea what that valley is called. Before getting to the town itself, while I was still atop that hill, I took in a really incredible sight: a bright yellow valley stretching out before me with a massive, blue ridge rising in the distance. Ironic that this ridge is called “Little Mountain” because it’s anything but little. In fact, it basically marks the end of the Valleys region of Pennsylvania and the beginning of the Pennsylvania Wilds. That’s a journey for a future day.

Mifflinburg is another Pennsylvania contradiction. While Middleburg belongs firmly to the world of the rural proletariat, Mifflinburg is a town with a foot in two different realms. A land of bucolic farms on one hand and the recipient of regular travel from the burgeoning college town of Lewisburg. There are artistic murals…and people who don’t care much about hippies. There are trendy breweries (more on that later)…and people who like their beer and everything else traditional. The thing about towns in the process of change is that they tend to produce excellent coffee. Mifflinburg is no different.

The location of this coffeehouse gave me a bit of a pause for concern. It was in an otherwise nondescript little shopping plaza part of the way between Mifflinburg and Lewisburg, but much closer to the former. How classy could a coffeehouse in a shopping plaza be? Well, plenty classy actually. You walk in and emerge into a sort of garden party in media res. There’s greenery, pretty hardwood decor, and an upscale dining room. It was like a venue you’d see on an episode of Gilmore Girls. Not that I watched Gilmore Girls. No, of course not. So, I walked up to the spacious counter and in a lovely departure from the all-too-common medial paranoia, the barista Katrina gave me a choice of several coffees that I could dispense myself.

I find that I overuse the word “buttery” to describe very smooth and rich South American blends and non-harsh French roasts. Well, too bad, it fits the profile of the mouthfeel here to a T. It’s a mark of good coffee when it complements the condiments that you add. In other words, if, when you put in milk and sugar you get an enhancement of the flavor rather than tasting sugar and milk alone, you’ve got yourself a well-crafted brew. D.C. makes a well-crafted brew. This one actually was a French roast by Dilworth Coffee. Dilworth itself is based in North Carolina, so to find it in Pennsylvania is somewhat surprising. They’re one of those up-and-coming outfits slowly spawning new locations; if they’re considering Pennsylvania, that would be nice, but I’ll certainly take running into their fare randomly.

Having had my uppers, on the way back out of town, I went on a side quest for downers. By that, I mean beer. And by beer, I mean the Rusty Rail Brewing Company. I had to try it because it’s famous. And here’s another example of the dual nature of many Central PA towns: I found a gorgeous reclaimed factory building loaded with absolutely scrumptious craft beer and staffed by kind, responsive, committed hepcats who surely know bands I can’t pronounce. Upstairs, however, stood a frankly horrifying display of stuffed trophy animals that were clearly hunted for reasons other than food. The cat was, at least. The moose might have become a steak, but not the kitty. I’m painting a mental picture of the person responsible as I look at the bodies. Bet you are too.

Contrast. Light and shadow. That’s what Mifflinburg is. Progressive, regressive, equal, and free. It’s agrarian and urban and trying to find itself in an ever-shifting world. I find a strange brew of ideals in these small towns. I found some strange and wonderful brews of other sorts too. I hope that I’ll be able to head up the other side of the river, into the valleys around Herdon and Dalmatia in a few weeks. Haven’t heard of those places? You will. Until next time, stay caffeinated.

the awning…

the seating…

the cozy nook…

the good stuff…

Inertia is a bastard. Between my trip to Liverpool and here it’s been a month of my subconscious mind finding excuses not to get out of bed or do things other than work. Which I also do from bed because I’m a writer. Finally, a Thursday ago, I ran out of reasons. The day was gorgeous; 65 degrees and sunny in the middle of November in the middle of Pennsylvania. I felt like God was prodding me to get on the road, so that’s exactly what I did.

The town of Middleburg, Pennsylvania is nestled two valleys north of the valley containing Liverpool. It’s up in Snyder county, not far off of 11/15, smack in the middle of the Pennsylvania that few travelers ever see. Warning signs for Amish buggies abound, and the mountains rise in folds around you. Is the name of this town familiar? It should be. I reviewed a coffeehouse here years ago called Middle Creek Cafe. Since then, the coffeehouse culture in Middleburg has grown. Given the proximity to the college town of Selinsgrove, this isn’t too surprising. In fact, the tendency of coffee lifeways to spread laterally to more isolated towns from ones more connected to the world at large is a theme I’ve been taking note of.

Sweet N’ Savory, also known as Brooke’s Cafe Baking and Catering, is a very recent addition to the community. They opened during what was arguably the worst time in a century to open a business: October of 2020. Yikes. The fact that they managed to not just survive but to carve out a niche alongside another coffeehouse in the same small town is impressive enough. What’s even gutsier is their expansion plan. By next summer they hope to have their patio finished and bands coming. Now, that’s the kind of relentless commitment to progress I like to see.

Here’s an interesting thing: the coffee itself seems to take a backseat here to the baked goods (which did smell rather delicious). OK, so the coffee had the familiar tang of diner fare. That’s because it was. In a certain way. My drink was a gourmet craft diner-style coffee called, quite appropriately, “Donut Coffee.” The taste can only be described as an elevated version of the kind of coffee that one usually does encounter at a donut shop. There’s little subtlety on display but plenty of boldness, leading me to think that the origin company used pure Arabica. The point of making this kind of coffee is to complement the food you’re serving without overpowering it; to let the beauty of the baking shine through while getting the taste buds charged with warm refreshment on a cold day. Yes, coffee-and-food pairings are definitely an art, just like wine and cheese. I’ll need to come back here, but with an empty stomach next time so I can see this tactic properly on display.

Stopping here was not the end of my journey today. In fact, the threatened rainstorm was holding off, so I looked at the hill to the north of me and thought: Why not? Why not continue on to the next valley and see what the coffee there is like? The sign said it was only nine miles to Mifflinburg, a larger rural town adjacent to college-town Lewisburg. Would the pattern I was starting to see hold? I’ll post my next installment in a few days. Until then, stay caffeinated.

the signage…

the bakery…

the coffee…

the best kind of corner…

And so it continues, this little tour of the valleys of the Susquehanna River and their coffeehouse culture. Yes, they do have one, and you’re about to see it. This journey is going to be a bit disjointed, I’m warning you. The “Valleys of the Susquehanna” is a named region in Pennsylvania and doesn’t include nearly half of the ridge-and-valley terrain that makes up so much of the state. Sometimes I’ll be exploring outside of the defined region, especially since some really impressive coffeehouses are found in the tiny villages of remote “hollers” far from the Susquehanna and its tributaries.

Shine Coffee Company, on the other hand, is located right at the southernmost edge of the official Valley region in the smallish town of Liverpool. I did some counting on the maps, and it’s actually the second of a series of small valleys heading north along the river. Hunter’s valley is the first, but contains little besides a picturesque winery and some farms. Our Liverpool does look very much like a British town, especially one of those northern towns that often takes the shape of a line of multicolored homes and shops lining the shore of a river. Shine opened in late 2020, moving into an historic building in the center of town overlooking the river. That alone shows the spirit that went into this operation and the burgeoning market for not just coffee but artistically done coffee in the region.

OK, first interesting thing: There was Christian rock playing on the radio. Not typical for a coffeehouse in Harrisburg. I had to ask if this was a Christian coffeehouse specifically. It’s not; it’s just run by Christians who clearly use their spirituality as a motivating to succeed and create. I normally don’t review religious coffeehouses or chain coffeehouses, or really any coffeehouse with some kind of mission other than coffee, but I would have made an exception here if one had to have been made. I’ve only done that once before (with the incomparable and unfortunately long-gone Hagia Sophia coffeehouse of Harrisburg, if you remember). As it turns out, the music was from a local Christian music group that partnered with the coffeehouse to showcase their tunes. They were quite good, and God is certainly a good reason to sing. Apparently, some holiday events are in the works, and this is a truly gorgeous venue for events. Rustic without being cloying is a hard balance to strike, but the design team sure did manage it.

The coffee they served me was craft brew, obvious from the outset. It tasted especially fresh (fitting, since I got the first of a newly-brewing batch), and there was a sort of mineral quality to it that I still can’t put a precise name to. I thought at first that it was an effect of the cream, but no, this was unique to the roast or the bean itself. Then I realized something. This is Denim Coffee! Again, dipping back into history here, I reviewed Denim long ago at their Shippensburg headquarters. Their coffee is becoming something of a local institution. This particular roast was their Sol Naciente, a Colombian. It was lighter than I’d expected from a Colombian! Probably because this one was “hot off the presses” so to speak and also it was breakfast time in the country where light fare is de rigeur.

On to the next cup! This place makes a timely stopover for people heading north from Harrisburg towards Sunbury and Williamsport. Again, I have to point out the fact that there was no coffeeshop in this town, in spite of its pretty houses and used bookstore, until just last autumn. Communities are starting to see coffeehouses as a space that they need; a gathering spot for everyone. Ah, well, enough reflection. Until next time, stay caffeinated.

the front…

the cozy fireplace…

the patio…

the town center (centre?)

the secret ingredient…

Just try not to get run over while taking a picture in the village of East Prospect, Pennsylvania. I dare you. This little town has far more traffic than one would expect, especially given that there’s one main street and…well, not much else. OK so there’s probably a lot else actually, but I hope that my ignorance is quasi-understandable given the hurry I was in. This morning (actually the morning of September 25) was the York Pagan Pride festival, happening eight miles from this tiny burg, and looking quite out of place among the massive number of Bible churches.

Now, yours truly doesn’t follow any single religious ‘path’ per se. In fact, I consider myself an old-fashioned perennialist. That is to say, I support the idea that spiritual and moral truth is universal and thus reason can seek it out, so when multiple religions agree on a tenet, such as the golden rule, they’ve probably latched onto a deeper and more transcendent truth. Yes, this is yet another good idea that gestated in the cafes of the Enlightenment era. And so I find myself often at metaphysical festivals of all stripes, seeking fellow seekers.

But right now I was seeking something else: coffee. East Prospect houses exactly one coffeehouse: Rustic Cup. The cafe is aptly named in the extreme. The road that leads to it from the main drag in town connects only to it, a pizza shop, and a row of houses before ambling off into the rolling hills of York County. The exterior, all wood with a fading sign, didn’t seem out of place. The interior was an amazing departure.

Now, I have a theory regarding small Pennsylvania towns. They all have about a squad’s worth of progressives milling about. There’s the teacher and her husband. The town historian and his wife, the aging hippie couple who may or may not be one of the aforementioned couples, and the half-dozen emo kids, young artistic souls and meandering crust punks who hang out in the alley pretending if only for a moment that it’s somewhere off-Broadway. The owner of this shop, Chris, certainly fits the image of an artistic soul out of place (I would know) But perhaps he’s in exactly the right place. I don’t know, because I don’t know him, but the way he’s positively filled this space with creative work made me want to know him and his vision.

Turns out this is only one stop on his journey. He’s already formulating a plan to move to Red Lion when the building purchase gets settled. The current Rustic Cup is cozy but not cramped. The new place will likely have a rooftop…something. He mentioned something about music that made my ears perk up. Red Lion is closer to Harrisburg which makes me happy/sad because I love home/traveling.

The coffee itself was as innovative as the space it dwells in. The house blend was literally called House Blend and Chris informed me that it was proprietary (I didn’t needle him with more questions even though I wanted to). It tasted…proprietary! I mean, if I had come up with this blend I’d certainly keep it to myself and monetize it. Beautifully balanced is the phrase I’d use here. It was clearly (I say ‘clearly’ while going in blind, mind you) a South American coffee of some sort, having the exceptionally creamy mouthfeel of a good Latin bean. There was also an unmistakable mineral quality to it that I’m still trying to nail down. The coffee itself was roasted to order by Alabaster Coffee Roaster & Tea Company up in Williamsport, PA. Williamsport has been on my list of places to take this tour for some time, so now it looks like I have a definitive target. To Alabaster we go!

And to home, I soon went. The festival was a bit slow and I was all shopped out and hungry. When I got back I encountered the best surprise of the whole outing: My Mom had made me some of her own proprietary turkey noodle soup and just left it there warm for me. How she had known that I was thinking about soup while sitting in two traffic jams on the way into Harrisburg is something which will have to remain a mystery. At least my next coffee stop shouldn’t be a mystery: I’m planning a trip up the Susquehanna to Liverpool.

the signage…

the enticement…

the globe…but flat…

the various arts…

the inordinately hazardous traffic…

The Ragged Edge. This is a blast from the past. I’m taking a bit of a detour from my stated objective of checking out coffeehouses to the north, especially to the west of 11/15. Actually, it’s technically not too much of a detour since the town of Gettysburg is indeed to the west of 11/15. I was in this most famous of towns not to explore its deep/painful/beautiful history, but to attend a yearly bluegrass concert. On the way home, I thought I’d be remiss if I didn’t take in the town itself while I was here. It was then that I recalled The Ragged Edge.

This coffeehouse was one of my first introductions to the art and poetry scene. Let’s dial it back to the heady days of 2002. I was in college at Shippensburg U, experimenting with dangerous, stupid things like postmodernism, and feeling homesick for the city. Unlike my very diverse high school, here you only had a few cultural options. Not being much of a line-tower, I fell in with the poets and goth kids. I still came home a lot, and after one Saturday night at a hangout called The Why’re in New Cumberland, found myself the next weekend at an awesome poetry reading here at Ragged Edge, a longtime epicenter of Southern Pennsylvania’s bohemian culture. It was awesome coming back and walking up the stairs to the exact room where I drank coffee, read poetry, and gawked awkwardly at the elegant brunette who’d been the real draw for me to make the trek that evening. Those were the days.

Oh and I suppose you want to know about the coffee. The coffee here was spectacular. A few of my reviews recently have been a bit ‘meh’ I know, but really, not everyone is going to be a standout. This coffee was, and I’m not just bending for the sake of nostalgia. The mingling of the various citrus and flower flavors didn’t hit me immediately, but when they did it was a nice little symphony. I had to do that slurpy aeration thing with my tongue several times in a row as I walked down the street (looking odd to passersby I assume) just to get the full impact. I swear I caught hints of hibiscus and lime. This was a light-to-medium Ethiopian, and more full-bodied than its stated attributes and source might suggest. Ragged Edge is its own roasting company, and partners with nearby 82 Cafe where it’s prepared. This is all fair trade coffee and apparently it’s sourced in the most direct fashion: the owner of the coffeehouse physically visits the farms. The degree of care is most evident.

I don’t know when I’ll be back in Gettysburg. The next coffeehouses I visit should be somewhere up north as I’d planned. That being said, there’s a beer festival I might go to in Lititz late in the month so there could be a coffeehouse in the works there. I’ve heard that Lititz is one of those up-and-coming small towns in PA, so it might be worth a look. That being said, I do like finding art in unexpected places. Either way, it’s the journey that matters. Until next time, stay caffeinated.

the sunlight…

the seating…

the art room…

art everywhere really…

the garden…

Perry County, Pennsylvania is a land of contradictions. It’s right next to Dauphin County, which is home to the capital city of Harrisburg. It’s also one of Central PA’s most rural counties. The Appalachian Trail runs right through the rolling mountains and dead-quiet backroads that make up most of the county’s land. On the other hand, it’s one of Appalachia’s most economically successful counties, with a growing population and burgeoning arts scene. The young, progressive townsfolk rub elbows with the overwhelmingly conservative farmers of the countryside. The opposites play on each other unselfconsciously, with both sides often crossing the line from archetype to caricature. But the lure of identity is strong in a rootless world, and so Trump stickers and rainbow flags can both be found plastered to the cars lining 4th Street of Newport, PA where Buffalo Brew is located.

In that context, I didn’t know quite what to make of Buffalo Brew. It didn’t seem to take a side in the culture wars, and it this part of the state, that set it apart to the degree that I wanted to learn more about it. After all, the fact that I want to learn instead of shill ideology seems to set me apart these days. Perhaps I’d find a few kindred spirits here. When I walked in, what I found was a very neutral space. There were community bulletins aplenty, but little of the avant-garde art (or attempts at it) that typically crowd the walls of a coffeehouse. The simple tables and chairs could have belonged to an agronomist or an artist. The only kitschy object of note was a toy buffalo sitting on a comfy couch in the corner. Note: Everything around here is buffalo everything. Buffalo Ridge, Little Buffalo Creek, etc. It’s all named after the buffalo that were thought to once roam the area. Evidence seems to come up scarce.

There’s plenty of evidence for a strong coffee culture here in Newport. I counted no less than three on the town square alone, one of them close to Perry County Council of the Arts headquarters. The coffee itself wasn’t too strong; I got the tail-end of the breakfast brew I think. It was a Colombian Sur de Huila coffee, an Arabica bean, and it did have a nice, characteristic nut flavor to it with an airy bit of citrus. The chocolate wasn’t as noticeable to me as the packaging made it out to be, but I’m starting to think I’m the only person who likes a nice chocolate aftertaste to my coffee. That can’t be true, can it?

The muscular gent who sold me the coffee questioned my motives for taking photographs of the place. We live in skeptical times, and people around here are still pretty insular. Rivers have always been highways, but mountains are walls, and we’re surrounded by them up in the center of Perry. I reassured him that it was for blogging purposes only, and the prospect of free advertisement seemed to win him over. On my way out of Newport I almost got lost. I’m thinking that’s a testament to the fact that Newport, although barely registering over 1,500 citizens, is a spot of growth surrounded by townships that are slowly losing their citizens to nearby cities. Like those brand-new Newporters (Newportians?) I came here for a reason. I came here because I need a balance between the city life and the country. Between the liberal and the conservative. Between the political and the apolitical. Between needing art in my life and needing nature. Let’s hope that the center holds in this little town, or that it at least remains a place of many voices. After all, isn’t that what coffeehouse culture is all about? Until next time, stay caffeinated.

the signage…

the view…

the seating…

the beans…

It’s arguable that no man in American history was as committed to the cause of freedom as John Brown. A radical abolitionist who met his end at the end of a hangman’s noose for organizing a daring raid against slaveholders in Harper’s Ferry, West Virginia. As I drove through Maryland this weekend, rather aimlessly after missing a crucial turnoff on the beltway, I spied the John Brown Coffee sign at a random intersection outside Cockeysville and just had to stop by, even though I was already well-caffeinated by that point.

I have no idea to this day whether the name referenced the hero or another John Brown. The website offered no clue, and as I stood there in the middle of Civil War country, I kind of just assumed. I’m sticking with that assumption because the cause of freedom for all was just one of many ‘radical’ notions discussed in coffeehouses across Europe and beyond during those heady days in which humanity was evolving by leaps and bounds in terms of consciousness. What could be more fitting than a coffeehouse named after the great abolitionist himself?

The cafe itself is beautiful. It’s a brown stone building within a complex of several other brown stone buildings which seem to collectively be part of a park. You order from a window and sit outside at one of several tables, and I could see a few travelers taking advantage of that shady little spot they concocted. Boy is it necessary in a Maryland summer! Apparently they’ve been there since 2017, serving the massive number of tourists who come through on their way to Baltimore and points south.

They also find their beans locally. Well, local-ish. John Brown Coffee gets their coffee from Pipe & Tabor Roasting Company from Germantown, New York. These folks in turn source their actual beans from Red Fox Coffee Merchants, which is known for working closely with local farmers. The particular coffee I ordered was a Kenyan. It absolutely had the citrus quality for which African coffees are known. The floral/fruity was immediately evident when I took a sip before putting the milk in, and that’s not generally my cup of tea (wait, I mean coffee), but you know what? This worked because of the complexity. The floral flavors had a range to them that I’d call a veritable bouquet. I wanted something special and new and I got it. The point of all this is to have an adventure in each cup. Capital job!

I hope that anyone traveling through Maryland gets as lost as I did. You might just run across this little outpost. As for me, I’ll be heading North for my next exploration. Technically northwest. Remember how when I was reviewing Susquehanna Coffee, the land to the west of 11/15 was like another world? I’m going back to that world. Until then, stay caffeinated.

the outside…

the inside…

the…cow?

Welcome back, hypercaffeinated readership. And yes, Google is telling me that hypercaffeinated isn’t a word vis-a-vis the red line of death beneath it. To heck with that. Heck I say! Language evolves for the same reason everything else does. Nature set progress on autopilot billions of years ago, and the only time it stops is when people make the absurd choice to stop it. In the interest of not turning this blog into a liber querulus, I’ll leave that at that.

My home city certainly appears to be evolving. That would be the city of Harrisburg, Pennsylvania. This is actually my first time looking for coffee in Harrisburg itself since sometime in 2019. What can I say, sometimes you miss things that are right in your backyard. I almost failed to mention this fact, for some reason assuming that people who read this blog know by now that I’m from there, even though I’ve kind of been everywhere over the course of this project. As I drove down Walnut Street I noticed this new cafe out of the corner of my eye, sitting pretty in a building that had been abandoned during the chaos of 2020. I would later learn that owner Lakshmi Tanniru and business partner Liz Albayero  opened in October of that year. I love when the owners of a coffeehouse are as bold as their brew.

Ms. Albayero clearly strove to bring Latin flair to her little corner of the American dream. As a matter of fact, this is the first Latin-American owned coffee shop in Harrisburg. Although they do have a Salsa night apparently, most of the overt cultural infusion seemed to be reserved for the coffee, and it really shines through in the quality. Yes, my bias is showing. Readers probably know by now that I’m a fan of Latin coffees in particular. You tend to get a not-quite-earthy richness from them, at least in the ones the roaster cared about. The roaster obviously cared here. I learned that the owners source their coffee directly from El Salvador. The blend I had was a Guatemalan-Salvadoran. It was indeed rich but balanced, just like a Central American coffee should be, the flavor (with a near-floral aftertaste) still clearly evident in spite of my adding too much almond milk to the mix. In my defense, I don’t think anyone can actually get almond milk right.

In the end, it seemed I missed the lines. From what was written in a recent article of The Burg magazine, there was a crowd here that early-autumn day when it opened. Like I said, we coffee lovers are a daring sort. May we always be. If you’re in the Burg and need a fix, consider The Fix. People who fight this hard for what they love deserve respect (and patronage). As for me, I’m off to another corner of PA to look for some more prime brew. No hints this time; I’m going where the wind takes me.

the street…

the luxe seating…

the art deco…

the art…

the hamsa…