A near-monastic temple to single-origin pour-over. The Yirgacheffe is the room’s quiet, confident centerpiece.
The pour is unhurried and so is the room. Bergamot up front, then a dark-cherry middle that keeps unfolding for a full minute after the cup is gone. The best Yirgacheffe I’ve had this side of the roastery.
Pulled long and a touch cooler than most bars dare. Cocoa nib, molasses, a clean dry finish. Sit at the counter — watching the bar work is half the visit.
Scanned the code at the counter mostly out of curiosity. Stayed for a second cup. Jasmine on the nose before the cup reaches the table; honey through the middle; a citrus edge that never turns sour.
Even the batch brew gets weighed in and timed out. Malty, round, an apricot note when it cools. If this is the floor, the ceiling is somewhere above the fog line.
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