I have always looked up to my father. The majority of my life (and still currently) my father has owned and operated a sawmill. He worked hard six days a week but on Sunday would often sit in the den and watch westerns, a lot of westerns. This is where I developed my love for the wild west. There will always be a pinch of western flare in my work to pay homage to my father and the value of hard work.
The marriage of machinery and art is what drew me to coffee roasting. I can remember the first time I witnessed the craft first hand. I sat in on a demo with a San Franciscan, I desperately tried to follow the dialog but it was foreign to me. I had this burning desire to learn the language. I fell hard for these machines. It is a difficult craft to understand, an industry that is constantly changing, equipment that is evolving, and a science that is still being uncovered. Every time I fire up the roaster I feel a sense of excitement, there are so many variables, endless goals, a world of possibilities ahead of me. It is a craft I plan to grow old with and I want to share it.
I am hesitant to lock myself into anyone view on coffee roasting. Coffee is an experience. My daily experience with coffee happens around 9 am when I wake up, stumble to my kitchen to carefully time and weigh a pourover and then walk away from it for about and hour. I love on my brown dog, water my plants, often forgetting about my coffee until it’s cold. I like coffee that I can ignore. Coffee so sweet it tastes good an hour later. We all have a different daily experience with coffee and I will tirelessly labor to roast a coffee for each individual experience.