Shop Review:

MadCap Coffee (Grand Rapids, MI)

Grey clouds kill dreams when hidden skies retreat, declaring winter’s victory over us all. Call it the un-compromise. I awake. It’s as cold as a witch’s tit. The day is neutral, and I ain’t seen the sunshine since I don’t know when. Dreariness is brought on by the lake effect, making my body feel like an empty coloring book; black, white, colorless, and lifeless, the search for bean juice becomes a matter of ice or breath. Bathe me in a kettle, and french press me sideways because I’m Mad, the last thing I need is a crappy cup to cap my craving.

Enter this local joint with writings on the walls. These mystery-laden, tattoo wearing, presumptuous pouring braless-istas, banking they’ve brewed heaven in a cup. Thinking if you put an apron on and don’t shower for a few days all the sudden your nappy hair fosters some brain juice that is expert at juicing the bean. Well I’ve got a couple of words for you lean-looking, latte-licking ladies behind the counter. You sexy, slippery sirens, I employ you, pour me a seductive, savory six-ounce cup of your finest single origin so I may taste this illustrious infamous bean.

Grind. Weigh. Pour. Wait. I taste and am transported to another world.