The Grinder’s Café

My small-town coffee shop is on the verge of closing due to the endless pandemic lockdown. I want to support them, but they may have crossed the line with their new autumnal offerings. 

The Grinders Café is decorated with the usual hipster blackboard and curvy lettering. The new seasonal menu is highlighted in a special section. Someone broke out the 5 additional colors of chalk and drew a fall leaf and pumpkin border to accentuate the changes. I did not read it carefully, knowing what is likely to be there. 

I presume the ubiquitous pumpkin spice will dominate, followed by a salted caramel variety pack: salted caramel latte, salted caramel maple latte, or gingerbread latte with salted caramel.   Mulled cider and variations on creamy chai round out the fall taste for the tea drinkers. For those that want a jump start on Christmas, there’s always peppermint mocha. I’m old-school and a firm believer in waiting until after Thanksgiving for this option. 

I order my usual dark roast coffee with a straw and settle in for a session of pretend writing. Only pretend writers are trying to use this coffeeshop’s narrow internet bandwidth to further their pretend work. I never get much done here, but I look busy. 

I take a small table in a corner that faces the large picture window overlooking the parking lot. This table is the ideal spot to view the full stream of customers and overhear their exchange with the owner.

With my earbuds loosely hanging next to my lobes and not plugged into any source, I can observe others without being caught eavesdropping. Occasionally, I mouth the lyrics to the jazz standard “Autumn Leaves” while bobbing my head to a non-existent EDM beat. I keep my eyes on my laptop to not arouse suspicion, fingers clacking away on pretend writer stuff. 

“Welcome to The Grinders Café,” Gayle, the owner, shouts over-enthusiastically. It’s been hard to keep the place running. She has a desperate overtone. “Ask about the newest autumnal offerings.” 

“Cool, yeah, cool,” I hear a 20-something male customer answer back. “Yeah, I’ll take a green tea frap and try the pomegranate & spruce soy.” 

The pomegranate and what?! Spruce? Like the pine tree? Maybe he meant Sprite? 

He pays and leaves. I side-eye to watch his reaction when he tastes that first swig of conifer. Nothing. I must have missed it. 

A few moments later, a young couple enters the coffee shop. I briefly glance up to assess the new arrivals. She sure likes trendy. Her Marc Jacobs outfit and handbag are topped off by the new Jacobs scent “Perfect Eau de Parfum”. She’s wearing so much of it my eyes start to water from 20 feet away. I hope her beau doesn’t have allergy problems.  

“We’ll take two pumpkin spice lattes, but they have to be sugar-free and dairy-free,” she insists. I am not surprised she orders for them both. “Ooo, delicious, I just saw the new list. Tell me about the Bois Des Anges.” 

The what? Leave it to this gal to pick the most pretentious sounding thing on the new menu. Isn’t Bois French for wood?  What’s Anges? Angels? 

My ears are dialed in to hear the answers to my burning questions. 

The owner responds, “Bois Des Anges has both sweet and spicy notes. It’s like a mingled bouquet of weathered oak flooring, old books, leather, and hints of cognac.”  

Gross. Can you add a musty shoe shot? Why, just why?

“That sounds perfect for you, babe, doesn’t it? Do you want to try it?” the customer’s voice is gradually getting higher in pitch as she tries to convince “babe” that this is something worth consuming. 

He caves. I suspect it won’t be the last cave today. “Sure, whatever you think.” 

She chirps in delight, “We will take it - plus the brown sugar figgy pudding - plus the two lattes.” 

“No problem,” the owner responds with cheer. 

Wow. That’s a lot of coffee for two people.  I have to see the guy’s face when he samples weathered oak flooring. 

Final pleasantries are exchanged as the couple pays the bill. 

I look up from my computer to eagle-eye them as they leave.  He sips from the cup in his hand. No dry heaving. No demand for his money back. Not even a grimace. I watch them saunter back to their car. Nothing. No reactions. They just drive away. 

Huh. That was disappointing.

I work on pretend writing a while longer before the next customer arrives. 

It’s the receptionist from the real estate office next door. I recognize her from walking by their office a few times a week. 

“Hey Gayle!” she calls out to the owner. 

As the owner steps from the backroom, she lights up, “Bev! Good to see you. How’s the real estate business going?”

“Fantastic. Busy as ever.” 

“Good. It’s terrific to hear that some businesses here are thriving.” There is a palpable sadness in the air. “What can I get for you today.” 

“Say Gayle, the agents and the clients are loving your new line. Can I get the apple cinnamon soy, the sage & walnut, and the smoldering tobacco barn?” 

I’m sorry?! What the what? Smoldering tobacco barn? Who invented that flavor and why did they think it was a good idea? 

“Sure, no problem Bev! Thanks for coming over. How did you like the pecan waffle last week?” 

“It was terrific. The smell was so powerful, the whole office had cravings for waffles.”

The owner is beaming with pride. “I’m so glad. Adding candles to our repertoire was a bit of risk, but who doesn’t like candles, right? It’s not like they can go bad either. I’m glad we added them this fall to enhance sales.” 

CANDLES! Oh, those kooky flavors where candle scents! How did I not see that sooner? 

Bev & Gayle wrap up their conversation as I pack up my laptop. I feel like a fool. 

It’s good to see The Grinders Café expanding sales. I hope they can earn some extra cash to make up for the recent shortfall. I love having a local coffee shop. 

As I am headed out, I stop at the counter and finally read the new candle scent choices. I ask with a slight giggle, “Hey Gayle, can I get an Evening Hayride to go?”