11 Portland Coffee Shops

What a recent caffeine-binge told me about the state of American coffee shops

I recently made a trip out to Portland. This was my first time going to the PNW, and as a barista and coffee-enthusiast it was also an opportunity to consume an irresponsible amount of caffeine.

In chronological order, these are the 11 coffee shops I visited in Portland.

Courier

This was the first place I went, and it really caught me off guard. It’s a little… grungy?

Virtually everything is stored in heavily-used jars of various shapes and sizes, the furnishings have taken some wear, and there’s a thrift shop record player on the front counter. The bathroom door is fitted with a jerry-rigged pulley-system so that it swings closed. There’s not a single frill in the whole place.

In my experience, this type of coffee shop has bad coffee. In Philly, it’s a sign that the owners and employees probably care more about vegan pastries and their bands’ show that night than barista training or what roast they carry.

To my surprise though, the “jarbraltar” I ordered was A+. Good espresso, perfect texturing, crisp tulip on top. I knocked it back in short order and immediately felt differently about the place. It’s a punk statement about the state of coffee: you can be a good Third Wave coffee shop without Third Wave aesthetics. (If it sounds like I’m reaching, please check out their Instagram account; it’s the most anti-aesthetic thing I’ve ever seen.)

I’m thankful this was the first stop because it immediately told me open up and forget my expectations.

Barista

Barista — like many coffee shops in Portland — has like, three locations. (Nope, googled it, and it’s actually five). I went to what friends later assured me was the oddest of the lot.

There is a long front deck with outside seating, then a sort of common lobby/foyer area for the building which contains all of the indoor seating, and then a sort of metal-framed box to your left containing the coffee bar. Layers, man, layers.

Barista roasts their own coffee, but they also carry other roasters. I had a shot of Verve’s Ethiopia Sakaro, which was really good (though I would have many good, complex espressos over the next few days). More than anything else, I left thinking about the use of space.

Sterling

There’s only one way to put it: Sterling is dapper. Baristas in dress shirts, flowers on every table, traditional wallpaper — it looks more like a European parlor than an American coffee shop.

The space itself is tiny. There’s only four tables inside, and the tables outside have tops about the size of a hardcover book. As a result, I found that customers here were either getting a quick hit, reading the newspaper, or catching up with friends.

Portland was experiencing a heat wave while I was there, but on this day I got a little taste of the stereotypical overcast weather. It was perfect for sitting outside, making conversation with locals, and trying out an espresso flight. (Side note: I really wish more places did flights.)

Coava

There are little coffee shops, and there are large coffee shops. Coava’s Grand Ave location is a large coffee shop.

Coava shares a massive warehouse floor with a bamboo furniture retailer. On one side there are display pieces for potential buyers, and on the other side there’s a coffee roaster, the bar, and seating. The space is not subdivided in any way beyond the suggestive placement of furniture.

Sometimes large spaces feel commercial or bland when it comes to coffee shops. Too much seating and you’ve created a massive restaurant/cafe/merchandise behemoth. Too little and you’re dangerously close to masturbatory minimalism (“Look how little I’ve put in this space!”)

I found that Coava had struck a good balance though. Not cluttered, not empty. It’s not really possible for such a large space to feel cozy, but it was pleasant nonetheless.

Tov

Inarguably the most unique destination I visited on my coffee tour: a double-decker bus serving Egyptian-style coffee, coated in a uniform shade of purple on the inside. (Do yourself a favor and google more pictures of this place.)

So many places had great espresso, so it was truly special to get something else. Tov has the necessary Third Wave accouterments, but why would you order that when you can order Egyptian coffee served with a side of Turkish Delight? The open air roof was a beautiful social space. I only wish I could have hung out there longer.

Heart

Heart is commonly held up as the new heir of the Portland roasting throne. Stumptown is too big to be cool anymore, supposedly. The location I went to was large, chic, and the coffee was good. I arrived around 9:30 am but didn’t stay there long due to the 10 am influx of Macbook users and young couples with babies.

Good espresso. Decent drip. Nice space. But what else? I couldn’t tell you.

Upper Left

I can’t say much about Upper Left, but that’s more a reflection of circumstance than anything.

There were over a dozen people sitting outside and another three dozen sitting inside. I waited in a line of eight people and mentally prepared a simple order for the team of four juggling baristas behind the counter. No point adding to their chaos by ordering a pour-over. I heard really good things about their roasts from other baristas around town though.

I will note that this is the only place where I saw roasting in-process. Portland in general seems to be much more into having their roasters visibly displayed in their coffee shops.

Stumptown (OG)

Nowadays everybody wanna talk like they got somethin’ to say, but nothin’ comes out when they move their lips, just a bunch of gibberish, and motherfuckers act like they forgot about Stumptown.

I have so little respect for people who casually equate “they got big” with “they’re not good anymore”. I got trained by Stumptown at my first coffee job, and we carried their product, and it was damn good. Sure, I get why a Stumptown cafe is never the first stop when you’re looking for a new and interesting coffee experience — they’re national level and individual shops aren’t necessarily doing the best expression of the coffee. But I had coffee from a ton of small roasters in Portland, as well as a cup or two of Stumptown, and it held up.

This was the very first Stumptown coffee shop, and despite not having changed in many years, it’s still incredibly tasteful. There are a lot of little elements that have been adopted by dozens if not hundreds of coffee shops across America. You may think “I’ve seen counter set-ups like this” or “I’ve seen wooden benches in this style” but all that stuff was here way before it was everywhere.

If there’s something wrong with Stumptown, I didn’t see it here. Great coffee, great space. It felt like it was saying “Y’all know me, still the same OG.”

Kainos

I was here for less than 10 minutes, but I genuinely loved it.

The drip coffee was amazing. Their blend is called Freakin’ Yum, and that’s right on the money. Bright, sweet, clean — I could drink a ton of this and not get tired of it. I think that’s where drip needs to be right now. Let’s focus on solid, interesting drip blends rather than counting on single-origin pour-overs to show off a roaster’s capabilities.

Bright, sweet, and clean also perfectly describes their interior design. They have this great geometric mural that forms the core of the space and the general design. It’s so bright and fun that it felt like the space itself was telling me to have a good day. (Well, and the baristas literally said that.)

As a huge bonus, Kainos donates 21% of their proceeds to feeding and sheltering children in the Philippines. It’s great to see businesses doing good, and doing it in a way that doesn’t become a marketing schtick.

Of all the excellent roasters I tried, this was the one place I chose to buy a bag to bring home. Even after I’ve finished it, the bag will make a gorgeous souvenir.

Coffeehouse Northwest

What makes this coffee shop so distinctive is how indistinctive it is.

Basically, I’d say it’s a mash-up of a stereotypical 90’s coffee shop with a stereotypical Third Wave coffee shop. Medium-tone wood, black paint, simple furniture. Gone are the knick-knacks, bad local art, and dark roasts, but they haven’t been replaced by the over-the-top self-congratulatory minimalism of 2017.

I love how perfectly the name fits this place. It’s a coffeehouse in Northwest Portland. The coffee is good, there is wifi and a bathroom, there are tables and chairs. Sit here, drink coffee. That’s it.

Never

I liked this place before I even got there. Just looking at their Instagram account got me hyped.

Never has a very strong aesthetic that connects perfectly with their identity as a shop. The neon sign out front, the mural inside, the interior design, the product, their online presence — it all meshes together. This place knows what it is and shouts it from the rooftop.

Never’s line-up of signature drinks is key to the whole concept. The five drinks align with the five-color palette of the shop and each drink has an associated handmade ceramic mug.

Normally, I’m not big on signature drinks. In my personal life philosophy, experiments teach you things, but they can’t be your bread-and-butter. Classics endure.

But I can see why signature drinks might be more important here. In Portland, everyone has their roasts and execution dialed in to the highest degree. Having a really good single-origin Ethiopian espresso is not enough to make you stand out.

To that end, Never has five drinks that are both eccentric and incredibly tight. They’re designed to be loud and original, but so good that they can stay on the menu for years to come.

Overall, I respect the consistency, taste, and personality that went into this place. It’s definitely on the high-concept end of things, but conceptual design is the Boss Key to my dungeon-like heart.

And okay, yeah, I bought their t-shirt.

Conclusions

There were only two or three shops on my list that I didn’t manage to make it to. Either/Or, Cathedral, Good… Case Study, Water Ave… Okay, I could’ve spent another week if I was trying to be exhaustive.

Admittedly though, there’s only so much you can do in a few days. Even supposing I went everywhere worth mentioning (and I didn’t) I don’t think you really know a roaster until you’ve had more than three of their roasts, and I don’t think you really know a coffee shop until you’ve been there about a dozen times over the course of more than a season.

Sometimes a single shot of espresso can be exceptional or terrible. Sometimes there’s just that one coffee that is really miles beyond the other stuff a roaster is doing. Sometimes a shop is terrible in Winter but glorious in summer. These are things tourism can’t tell you.

I do have one major takeaway though. Overall, my favorites were Sterling, Tov, Kainos, and Never. The pattern? Each of these places has an identity, and they commit to it. They know who they are, and they make all of their decisions based on that vision. I respect the hell out of that. Don’t. Be. Generic.

I’m excited to go back sometime. Undoubtedly, the scene will be different and I’ll have to start nearly from scratch, but that’s okay by me.