Abracadabra
To truly understand the depths from which this particular delight percolated up, ascending effervescently from my toes up and out through my nose, we need to hop ourselves backwards in time to July 2017. The scene: Ludlow, Vermont. You there? Good, I am too — let’s proceed.
We were on the middle of a summer vacation, having fled the DC heat and humidity for the more temperate weather of Vermont, which, despite what you might have heard, or perhaps suspect, is also pretty hot and can get pretty humid during the summer. Still, it’s not DC — that is other planet inhospitable.
I’d been searching online for some high end coffee beans, the stash we’d hauled up from DC now running dangerously low. Click, click, click, and suddenly I find myself staring at the Abracadabra Coffee Company website. Slick, deliberately ironically casually ironic social media presence? Check. Sufficiently cult-like worship of all things bean-related? Check! Sexy product design? Check! Random photos of succulents? Check! Esoteric and hard to find? Check!
Nearly too hard to find, as it turned out. We first went to a farmers’ market listed on their website, and — whoosh, puff of smoke, crack! — no Abracadabra to be found. We next made a trip to the specialty cheese store in town, because Vermont and because this too was listed on the website as a location to buy their beans, and — whoosh, puff of smoke, crack! — no Abracadabra. Not all searching led to immediate failure, though — we did stumble upon a solitary bag, long past its roasting date, at the fairly local general store. We’re talking cobwebs (the bag, although the store did have one or three, if we’re being honest). That bag we left sitting on the shelf.
Despair had long set in by this point. Would I have to settle for Vermont Coffee Company (no offense to Julia Alvarez)? No succulents on their website, mind you, and I think that speaks volumes.
I should pause to note that although I’m using “we” in this essay, I must confess that the desperation felt was mostly mine. Carolina, who will sometimes elect to have tea even when there’s top-of-the-line fresher-than-fresh premiere coffee to be had. Because of this, I imagine that she did not feel the same urgency to replenish our stock. Still, ‘we’ captures our spirit of solidarity, and so I’ll continue using it.
Chins up, shoulders down and back, we went to another farmers market. Joyful screams floated on air as children raced each other from the parking lot, past the oh-so tempting fruits and veggies without so much as a glance, to arrive at the wood-fired pizza truck. These joyful screams died in my ears. Sour, I was. I looked to my left: no coffee beans in sight. I looked to my right: again, no coffee beans in sight. I peered over my shoulder: nothing. Unhappy, I was. The reassurance by the fruit and veggie vendors that the Abracadabra guys *should* be in attendance did little to assuage the fact that they *weren’t* there.
I was done, ready to call it a day (a lousy one), but Carolina persuaded me to make one last attempt. I pulled out my phone and peered at the list of Abracadabra vendors once more, now immune to the once charming succulents. Grumbling, I agreed to “make the day into an adventure” by driving a few towns over to a farm that “apparently” stocked the beans. I don’t have to tell you that I wasn’t optimistic, but I wasn’t optimistic.
Nevertheless, we set off on our journey and, amazingly, coffee beans we found! Freshly roasted, at that! As in, less than a week old!!! These beans brewed up a damn fine cup, make no mistake. Enticing packaging, to top it off. Well worth the search! Friends, I was satiated.
Fast forward to Denver, August 2019. I walk into a new (to us) cafe, intent to continue my survey of the local Colorado roasters. I pause, squinting. What’s that white and green box with a pyramid on it?! I floated to the shelf, transfixed — though all the Abracadabra beans I’ve bought in Vermont since that first score were in predominantly black boxes, the pyramid design was unmistakable. Could not believe my eyes. Abracadabra — whoosh — delight!!!
Addendum: Returning to cafe to pick up another bag, I asked and was informed that the Abracadabra beans weren’t stocked regularly but were the spotlighted roaster, a rotating honor and one likely not to be repeated. I’m not sure if this was a ploy, in response to the wild gleam in my eye, to get me to clean out their stock, but friends, those beans were 3 weeks old at this point. No thanks!
8.20
