“What is the texture of time at Phin?”
I staked this question here some months ago confident that a newsletter would soon follow but, amidst the distractions of dogwoods and dark-eyed juncos, the would-be post dissolved into the stream of time and now I can locate in my memory only the chiffony sensation of a well-worn linen shirt on my forearm. That shirt, a white long sleeve from Uniqlo (not a sponsor) and my first linen garment, has similarly been lost to life’s currents.
Coming back today, the question remains shiny and evocative as the day I forgot it. My unwritten thoughts are not lost after all. They had steeped in time, absorbed time, and now possess the texture of time.
Coffee, too, is a product of time: maturing on trees, fermenting in tanks, desiccating under the sun, tumbling in ovens, finally surrendering itself to water. Time is essential throughout the journey from fruit to cup. Unfortunately, the cup is also increasingly where time stops being relevant, overlooked by today’s hurried and preoccupied taste buds. Let’s try to change that.
Longform is my side quest to bring together coffee and time. This concept is neither original nor new - this is simply my version of a union that I’ve always known.
On the coffee side, I’ll be offering a rotation of interesting and fine coffee beans, serving it simply and carefully to highlight their qualities. Espresso, cortado, and pour over are going to be the primary choices with some occasional twists should inspiration strikes.
And time. Time will be included in a few ways: poetry, music, musings, conversations. You can choose your flavor of time with your coffee. In store only.
The first coffee is already here. A washed Colombian coffee co-fermented with lychee from Hydrangea Roasters in Berkeley, CA. Feels like drinking a breeze after it’s passed through a tropical garden.
The poem I’m pairing is one by Wendell Berry with a time-ful description of light.
Where this goes is indeterminately exciting, but I’m glad it’s starting here with you all. See you soon.
