Is there such a thing as a 20oz. cappuccino? NO! A cappuccino is a coffee-based drink made primarily from espresso and milk. It consists of one-third espresso, one-third third heated milk and one-third milk foam and is generally served in a four-to-six-ounce cup.
Table Talk.
How lucky I am to wake each morning for the love of how I make my living. Owning and operating my cute little coffee shop, making delicious espresso drinks, baking pastries and serving wonderful people happiness in a cup are just a part of the entire picture that compliment my days worth.
I’m playing customer this afternoon sitting in the coffee shop amongst others drinking coffee, listening to great music, eavesdropping small conversations, laptops, iPads open. The sounds of my Barista Tara, busy with her afternoon tasks taking orders and exchanging pleasantries with patrons that know-not, me the owner sits among them. I like this. It’s relaxing and provides me opportunity to experience the ambiance I’ve created. Watching customer vehicles pull through to my drive-up window most steadily on a rainy Thursday afternoon are travelers, visitors and locals ordering coffee to sustain their drive or simply relish the afternoon pick-me up time of day – 
chai tea lattes, mocha breves, Americano’s, it’s undeniably a cookie afternoon at the Village Bean. My senses quickly settle back inside the coffee house to the fresh scent of newly ground espresso, coupled with frothing of milk ready for the marrying of chocolate and caramels and hoping never to hear the ending sound of whipping cream that top it off. I’m soothed over soft humming coming from a lady sitting near the ocean view window, and the sensual whisper of two obviously in a new relationship as their eyes gazing into one another reveal – making online reservation plans for a trip to Sedona. The hours pass with changing of tables, folks coming and going, and I’m beckoned from my alias to delightfully frost a lemon cupcake for a drooling, loyal customer. Quietly returning to my chair I’m now in the charming company of all women. This changing of hormones changes the dynamics of our environment from slightly reserved to subtle hints of gently spritzed perfume as Jose Feliciano sings “Come on Baby Light My Fire” in the background, really! I watch how this place, this atmosphere comforts these lovely creatures that easily comprehend the cozy that I’ve nurtured just for them. On a rainy, Thursday afternoon snug in my sweet little coffee shop that sits in the quiet little beach town known as Yachats, Oregon. I love this.
Oh Dear!
Recently, I’ve been hearing myself call everyone “hun, honey, dear, sister and sweetie.” A definite sign, an old lady sign. Silly I know, but I’m happy to have arrived at a place that feels quite right at home. Well-earned, it’s really more than just confidence that comes with maturity but an easy, ability of openness in actually sharing my old lady self with other human beings quite unlike ever before, and kick to the curb so-to-speak the younger, fearful, self-critical me. It’s nice. Not without exception, I don’t address women older than me with the above endearments, it feels tacky and disrespectful. A few years ago, a young girl in her early 20′s that worked for me was calling our gently-older customers “dear, hun and sweetie,” – I nipped that in the bud, early. I felt she hadn’t reached an age nor earned the graceful right to speak to elderly women with such tone, therefore, I take my own advice and try never, ever to cross that line. So, if I call you “sister, hon or dear,” please take compliment that I assume you’re younger than me.
Moreover, I’ve advanced to an “old lady” place where I feel noticeably more than comfortable speaking my mind, unabashed. Not that I haven’t always been able to engage conversation with most anyone in line for coffee, grocery store, waiting room, or embarrass my children in public – but to finally hear my oldest daughter whisper to her sister, “did you hear what mom just said?” well, that just left me smirking having trumped yet another moment in their life. It’s sort of living on the edge of I’m not quite sure of what yet, but before my children group share silent worries of my impending senility, I’m enjoying all the good things that come greeting this milestone. So, stop by for coffee dearie, and we’ll talk.
Dog Whisperer for Hire
The object of my blog post today is spirited in part from interactions with many of our dog-loving customers from Pushy Paul and his three lively wiener dogs to Sam, Sally and their seven Heinz 57′s all requiring puppy treats, and quite enthusiastically I might bark.
Approximately eighty-five percent of my drive thru customers own at least one dog. Unbelievably, many have more than two and I’ve seen up to six canines traveling alongside their owners. I’ve witnessed a fair number of cats, birds, snakes and a lizard as vehicle companions. Approaching the service window, most owners roll down the back seat window for their pet to receive a treat which our shop has provided by the thousands since opening 7 years ago. Folks are crazy about their animals – they are very much a part of the family often bragged about and fussed over like children, some loved even more. I’ve met poochies that are sweet, docile, tiny, nothing more than precious little balls of wonderful in they eyes of their owners to observing dogs coddled in baby blankets, snuggled in lavish beds, tethered to contraptions specially made for the safety of these pets. Some are rambunctious, obnoxious, and sport no manners while slobbering across the back seat headrest over the shoulder of the driver in pursuit of that treat they have become accustomed to receiving at drive thru windows. They know. Our regulars (dogs) know before they approach the drive line, barking, drooling, going nuts in the back seat awaiting their turn.
I’m personally not a big animal lover. Never have been and don’t see myself changing anytime soon. I don’t push my stand on dog people, act rude or give much thought to having a pet because owning one just doesn’t fit my lifestyle. I feel utterly mature and responsible with my decision knowing it would be unfair to the dog. As business owner that involves handling of food I’ve incorporated a policy of handing treats specifically to the pet’s owner, thus eliminating myself having to touch the animal, and save the customer next in line any worry that I’ll be handling their food and drink and not washing my hands. I’ve been handed cash transactions complete with dog hair and yet to inquire our county as to rules or regulations of the subject although I can only surmise that it’s been an issue covered. I’ve shared this policy with my employees although I doubt they heed my advice as I’ve witnessed my baristas coochy-coo on several occasions. I have come to know parents of animals, dogs especially are a breed by themselves – with one thing in common – they assume everyone loves their dog. They assume it’s okay to let their dog bark incessantly as if placing their treat order in dog language.They allow their dogs to greet you at the window with heads larger than a horse, and untamed as a spoiled child, wasting my time waiting for recognition. And they wait. Like an uncomfortable lull in conversation I must take the lead with body language and move the order along. Then, they’re insulted. I’ve been challenged that their dogs mouths are cleaner that our own, their dog won’t bite therefore it’s perfectly okay to put the treat in their mouth without thinking for one moment that I’m not interested in putting my hand near their dogs mouth, to another so upset that he referred to the health department as ignorant of pet owner’s rights. Dog parents will think nothing of using my business property as open-air potty ground nor leave their dog tethered to the front door barking, dirty paws and hot breath on my windows. I especially abhore the dog that gets first lick of whipped cream off the top of our finely crafted, five dollar specialty drink.
With sigh I cave, in that it’s a doggy-dog world. Admittedly, when I was 12 years old, my dad took our two cats and dog for a ride. Discarded for reasons unknown, his own issues of cleanliness phobia bestowed upon me – I hesitate to remember searching hours for those animals to no avail. Unfortunately, I’ve yet to pay for therapy on this subject. Therefore ultimately, upon request a variety of items are handed out our windows to these dearly loved pets, from cups of whipped cream, to glasses of water, napkins, and even a second free puppy treat upon their ever-lovin’ departure we’re pretty courteous, willingly comply, all the while knowing it’s good business – dog’s happy, owner’s happy – I guess everyone’s happy?
Not so ordinary.
A weary couple, they entered the coffee shop with striking features so similar to one another I could have mistaken them as related. Although quickly I observed more than likely it was the many years together in love and life that predominately sealed their resemblance of each other.
Our chit chat began with the normal exchange of pleasantries arriving at the who, what, where and why they decidedly chose Yachats as their destination. “Just a day trip escape from Portland, she said,” where their journey began few days prior. They flew in from somewhere midwest to welcome into the world a new granddaughter. Accompanying them, their 6 year old grandson, whom they retain custody, the child traveling to meet his new half sister, visit his biological father and once again see his mother, this couple’s daughter.
Their coffee stop visit merely 25 minutes brief, carried in with them facial expressions drained yet spiritually calm. Softly they each took turns sharing just enough story carefully not delving into the vulnerable space one politely refrains from strangers. As they discreetly exposed circumstantial highlights regarding their troubled daughter’s history they were hesitant to speak further by dropping mid stream their sentences and often ending with, “a sad story better left unsaid for another time.” My throat began to tighten unable to swallow. I continued listening, touched by yet another well told version of grandparents raising their children’s children.
One days reprieve from everyday life – another couples journey to Yachats. I bid them farewell and upon closing my shop door I turned to see my chalkboard sign with a message I wrote stating, “Please leave your worries at the door.”
Unashamed!
I love coffee. I love it roasted dark, brewed strong, and black with a dash of cold water splashed on top. My absolute favorite is a blue speckled pot filled with cold water, bringing two scoops of our Village Bean French Organic (never leave home without a big bag) to a rolling boil top of the propane stove via our travel trailer when camping. What? You’ve never heard the term “rolling boil?” Listen up, the perfect pot of coffee deliciousness is then finalized with a cup of cold water sending loose yummy bean grounds reeling to the bottom. Fondly enjoyed as my unashamed version of those highfalutin french presses.
I love it when I must eat my words. I’ve been watching a new product called the Xpress Lid from SmartCups, French Press To-Go! So smitten, I’ve ordered my first case and will start offering this cool new brewing specialty using our fabulous French Organic coffee and take on an array of leaf teas. It’s the first single-use french press comprised of a disposable and recyclable lid, rod and press for our 16oz hot cups.
Just another opportunity ensuring our customers Bean Good and Bean Happy!
It Takes A Village to Stay Here….
Who said, “we’re all here because we’re not all there?” It matters not our history, background, ethnicity nor gender – we’re here because we love Yachats.
Like many, I found my way to the shores of this charming village some twenty years ago vacationing with my husband and four children. Bittersweet, the close of each vacation gave us fond rearview mirror glimpse of a place we yearned to return again and again.
We knew then first opportunity would bring our family to stay in Yachats. That was November, 1992, 17 years ago. My children are now raising my grandchildren and have moved on, inland, to bigger cities of opportunity, advancement and dreams found beyond here in Yachats. Heartfelt, I listened as they once tried to encourage my relocating inland for exciting opportunity, advancement and opportunity to begin anew, so they advised. I laughed, warmly knowing my needs were to diminish those notions of distant opportunity and desire for advancement – I was in Yachats to stay.
You see, I’ve loved and lost here, became a grandma here, divorced here, mourned here, been alone here, prayed here, found my soul here, and yes, remarried here. And when my final vacation ends here, a confirmed reservation will have me sprinkled lavishly somewhere over the cliffs of Heceta or Perpetua, either place I can’t beat the view.
Over the years, I’ve prospered a gift shop; published two travel magazines and had the pleasure of bedding down more than my share of newlyweds while owning a vacation cabin catering exclusively to honeymooners, and most currently fuss over the making of espresso at our drive thru coffeehouse – “The Village Bean.” It is not without the support of my husband Tony together, we have completed the expansion of our coffeehouse and have opened yet another coffee drive thru one year ago in our neighboring town of Waldport.
We consider ourselves fortunate to employ terrific, local folks that have become our extended family. With pride, respect and accountability we contribute to their livelihoods so they may in essence remain here because they too, love Yachats.
I value having been here long enough to gather my personal point of view regarding the cycle of living in Yachats. I’ve seen business come and go, prosper and fail. Folks well past retirement, aging, afraid, missing children, needing healthcare closer to home, leaving with reason, a season, or just their place in time. I’ve welcomed second home seekers, passersby and the lonely to our small Village all sporting sparkle in their eyes and a yearning to call Yachats home. Some stay, most do not.
So, it is with a deep sense of belonging that I write about our community and invite others to put pen to paper, fingertips to keyboards and share in the stuff that Yachats is made of.
Yes, they will come…but will they return?
You’ve been there, into the shop around the corner where the owner is so crabby she fakes her smile, or doesn’t even try. How about that restaurant owner you heard yelling at his dishwasher so disrespectfully loud your chowder curdled. I wonder if that lovely Bed & Breakfast owner south of town knows her employee was sassy and rude to quests requesting recommendation for casual dining. You know who they are. They walk among us representing Yachats.
We live and work in a heavily populated tourist zone. One can feel the hype of tourist season approaching as shopkeepers sweep porches, dust cobweb winter shelves with a bounce to their step anticipating delivery of fresh new merchandise akin to the long gone holiday rush. We can’t help ourselves, we get excited! They’re coming and it’s downright fun. Heck, so often we feel like the Chamber of Commerce ourself, boasting to folks of places to eat, where to stay, what to see, things to do and most importantly… share what we can referring one another in commerce to keep them in Yachats.
Company’s coming and we must behave ourselves, engage in pleasantries and show we have manners. Be outrageously courteous, go out of our way, entertain, bend over backwards and be helpful. Try to disregard those sporting crabby attitudes as they’re few and far between. Shake off the misery of those unable to enjoy the view, share in moment or just simply relax a bit. Move them along, their negativity doesn’t belong to us. Committees of our peers are constantly working on projects and events that invite folks to come here which in turn ensures our livelihood. Visiting tourists are a welcomed commodity. We need them. They’re happy, in great spirits and most importantly eager to spend obscene amounts of money. They’ve come here in abundance on vacation, celebrating anniversaries, family reunions, weekend getaways, or just passing through.
Our season is brief, ends too soon and before you know it they’ve gone home. So, let’s relax, be nice, and hope they return. I believe, what goes around, comes around by pulling together; educating each other of our service or wares and proudly comrade further prosperity within our little village. It’s just neighborly!
Coffee tastes best sipped by the seashore.
Where do you partake of your favorite coffee drink? Cape Perpetua, Strawberry Hill, Heceta Lighthouse? The deck of your favorite vacation cabin? State Park? Share with us the location you enjoy a moment, vanilla latte in hand. One local favorite: a 12oz. triple mocha breve sipped during a late autumn sunset, overlooking the beautiful ocean waters at SeaRose Beach.
