Seattle Coffee Quotes

Just the other day, I was in my neighborhood Starbucks, waiting for the post office to open. I was enjoying a chocolatey cafe mocha when it occurred to me that to drink a mocha is to gulp down the entire history of the New World. From the Spanish exportation of Aztec cacao, and the Dutch invention of the chemical process for making cocoa, on down to the capitalist empire of Hershey, PA, and the lifestyle marketing of Seattle's Starbucks, the modern mocha is a bittersweet concoction of imperialism, genocide, invention, and consumerism served with whipped cream on top.

What's silly is paying five bucks for hot milk and flavored syrup! But now I see what's really been going on all this time! They charge you all that money because they need it for the R & D! Somewhere on the outskirts of Seattle, there's a secret facility with higher security than Area 51, and inside there are men with poor eyesight and bad haircuts wearing white coats, and they're trying to make the Holy Grail of all coffee drinks. The bacon latte? No, Atticus, I already told you those exist! I'm talking about the prophecy! 'Out of the steam and the foam and the froth, a man in white with poor eyesight will craft a liquid paradox, and it shall be called the Triple Nonfat Double Bacon Five-Cheese Mocha!' Oberon, what the F---?

Whoever had opened that first Starbucks in Seattle should be shot.

When I feel sad, I try to think of someone else in the world who is suffering worse than me. Like someone in Seattle, who is hurting so bad financially that instead of a vente coffee at Starbucks every morning, they have to downsize to grande.

Arriving on Bainbridge Island is the opposite of arriving in Seattle. When you got in your car and waited to unload off the ferry in Seattle, you saw the Space Needle, cars, and a mound of urban construction. Once you exit the ferry terminal on Bainbridge, however, it’s mostly trees. Pine as far as the eye can see. Well, pines, firework and coffee stands, and eventually a casino. You drive through the Port Madison Indian Reservation when you leave the island. I couldn’t help but smile as I went past the casino. I didn’t really get gambling, since I’d never had money to throw away, but as I passed through all the beautiful countryside that I’m sure once belonged to the tribe, I sort of hoped they would rob the white man blind. Perhaps not politically correct, but the feeling was there all the same.

Is it any surprise that the current center of coffee culture, the city of Seattle, home to the Starbucks coffeehouse chain, is also where some of the world's largest software and Internet firms are based? Coffee's association with innovation, reason, and networking—plus a dash of revolutionary fervor—has a long pedigree.

chickaree coffee.

As far as coffee table books go, this one's slow roasted like Seattle's finest. It even comes with FREE refills that you drink through your eyes.

A sideways rain quickly soaked the pair as they made their way across the street toward a small diner. Inside, the smell of coffee permeated the air and Benny Goodman’s band could be heard from a radio in the corner.

He knew the way she liked her coffee, her favorite flowers--pink roses--and the meaning of countless things, like the way she straightened up to her full height and raised her left eyebrow when she was holding back on something she wanted to say.

Do you remember anything about last night?" he asked. Her stomach churned as memories of the night before swam into mental view. Oh, she recalled a few things. How could she forget? She took a solid gulp of her coffee. "I remember vodka, an ax murderer, and a marriage proposal." "Good. The important things." He nodded.

Golly, I could drink a cup of coffee,” said Mac. “We’ll have swell coffee in Seattle, damned if we won’t, Mac.

Believe me, even if they paid me to do this, I wouldn't waste such a good coffee on you. Or any coffee, really.

if there’s one thing other than traffic in Seattle, it’s coffee. You can’t swing a dead squirrel without hitting a Starbucks, or failing that particular evil empire, an indie establishment.

יועד לוגם מהכוס ומעווה את פניו. ״חרא קפה.״ ״בפעם הבאה תלך לקפה מול הספרייה,״ היא מציעה לו טיפ של מקומיים. רק לפני שנה פתחו אותו, וכל הקמפוס מדבר עליו: כמו בניו יורק, כמו בסן פרנסיסקו, בסיאטל: קלייה עצמית, מיקרו־זנים. היא עצמה ניסתה כמה פעמים והתביישה לומר שהקפה היה לה מר וחמוץ. הוא זורק את הכוס לפח זבל שעומד בקצה המסדרון. ״לשם הלכתי.״

Can I tell you something about Seattle? Everyone there is a filthy liar. They're all, 'Don't move to Seattle—it's so rainy!' And yet every time I've been there, a tiny amount of rain falls before the whole sky explodes into rainbows and sunlight. Seattleites mean to hog up all the stunning vistas and good coffee and flowering bushes for themselves. Bet on it.

We need a test!" I jump up out of the chair and pat my body down. "Where's my wallet?" "In your pocket," she replies dryly. "I'll be back!" I race out of the house and drive the short distance between Dom's estate and the nearest village. After I find a drug store and buy one of each kind of pregnancy test they have, I race back to my hopefully pregnant wife. "That was fast," she murmurs with a grin. She was still sitting in the lounge chair, sipping her coffee. "Should you be drinking coffee?" I ask. "Let's not get crazy," she responds. I need coffee. "I got one of each kind," I announce and opened the bag, sending small white and blue boxes scattering. "Uh, Caleb, we only need one." "What if we can't figure them out?" I ask and pick one up to examine it. "All of the instructions are in Italian." She laughs hysterically and then stands, wiping her eyes. "It's not funny." "Yes, it is. Pregnancy tests are pretty universal, Caleb. You pee on it and a line either appears or it doesn't." She rubs my arm sweetly and kisses my shoulder before plucking the box out of my fingers. "I'll be back." "I'm coming with you." I begin to follow her but she turns quickly with her hands out to stop me. "Oh no, you aren't. You are not going to watch me pee on this stick." I scowled down at her and cross my arms over my chest. "I've helped you bathe and dress and every other damn thing when you were hurt. I can handle watching you pee." "Absolutely not." She shakes her head but then leans in and kisses my chin. "But thank you for helping me when I was hurt." She turns and runs for the bathroom and it feels like an eternity before she comes back out, white stick in her hand. "Well?" I ask. "It takes about three minutes, babe." She sits in the lounge chair and stares out over the vineyard.

We rode in a darling neighborhood of little bungalows cuddled together. I love the gray-green-putty colors against the leafless cherry trees and Japanese maples. I could feel the crocus, daffodil, and tulip bulbs underground, gaining strength, patiently enduring our winter, waiting to burst forth for another glorious Seattle spring. I held my hand out and whooshed it through the thick, healthy air. What other city has given birth to the jumbo jet, the Internet superstore, the personal computer, the cellular phone, online travel, grunge music, the big-box store, good coffee? Where else could somebody like me ride bikes alongside the man with the fourth-most-watched TEDTalk? I started laughing.

Mrs. Indianapolis was in town again. She looked like a can of Sprite in her green and yellow outfit. She always likes to come down to the front desk just to chat. It was 4:04 am and thankfully I was awake and at the front desk when she got off the elevator and walked towards me. 
 “Good morning, Jacob,” she said.
 “My name is Jarod,” I replied.
 “When did you change your name?” “I was born Jarod, and I’ll probably die. Maybe.”
 “You must be new here. You look like a guy named Jacob that used to work at the front desk.”
 “Nope, I’m not new. And there’s no Jacob that’s worked the front desk, nor anybody who looks or looked like me. How can I assist you, Mrs. Indianapolis?”
 “I’d like to inform you that the pool is emitting a certain odor.”
 “What sort of odor?”
 “Bleach.”
 “Ah, that’s what we like to call chlorine. It’s the latest craze in the sanitation of public pools. Between you and me, though, I think it’s just a fad.”
 “Don’t get sassy with me, young man. I know what chlorine is. I expect a clean pool when I go swimming. But what I don’t expect is enough bleach to get the grass stain out of a shirt the size of Kentucky.”
 “That’s not our policy, ma’am. We only use about as much chlorine as it would take to remove a coffee stain the size of Seattle from a light gray shirt the size of Washington.” “Jerry, I don’t usually give advice to underlings, but I’m feeling charitable tonight. So I’ll tell you that if you want to get ahead in life, you have to know when to talk and when not to talk. And for a guy like you, it’d be a good idea if you decided not to talk all the time. Or even better, not to talk at all.”
 “Some people say some people talk too much, and some people, the second some people, say the first some people talk to much and think too little. Who is first and who is second in this case? Well, the customer—that’s you, lady—always comes first.”
 “There you go again with the talking. I’d rather talk to a robot than to you.”
 “If you’d rather talk to a robot, why don’t you just find your husband? He’s got all the personality and charm of a circuit board. Forgive me, I didn’t mean that.”
 “I should hope not!”
 “What I meant to say was fried circuit board. It’d be quite absurd to equate your husband’s banter to a functioning circuit board.”
 “I’m going to have a talk to your manager about your poor guest service.”
 “Go ahead. Tell him that Jerry was rude and see what he says. And by the way, the laundry room is off limits when no lifeguard is on duty.

flavourings, and many other assorted pollutants. I got a plain house blend, black, no sugar, in the middle-sized go-cup, not the enormous grande bucket some folks like, and a slab of lemon pound cake to go with it, and I sat alone on a hard wooden chair at a table for two. The cake lasted five minutes and the coffee another five, and eighteen minutes after that Shoemaker’s guy showed up. Which made him navy, because twenty-eight minutes was pretty fast, and the navy is right there in Seattle. And his car was dark blue. It was a low-spec domestic sedan, not very desirable, but polished to a high shine. The guy himself was nearer forty

If any religion can be said to be integral to the day-to-day workings of Vienna, it would be a religion based on the consumption of coffee, and its temples, the coffeehouses. Granted, there are coffee-consuming cultures all over the world, and places where it is done in greater quantity — perhaps even places where it is more integral to the general harmony, like Seattle, or research stations in Antarctica — but the one thing Vienna held as its catechism was that if you’re going to drink coffee, you must do it in style. The first aspect considered when opening a Vienna coffeehouse is atmosphere; it must look as if the facility has been in continuous operation since Napoleon’s occupation at the latest, and once the doors were opened, the owners would never admit to the contrary. The preferred decor is Comfortable

In Seattle, Washington, in 1971, Howard Schultz, the owner of a local coffee roasting and distribution company, noted the increasing affluence of the American public and their desire to receive gracious treatment in their daily activities. Schultz recognized that there was a market for small businesses featuring top quality coffee and an opportunity to relax in an attractive environment. To take advantage of these emerging Minitrends, Mr. Schultz initiated the very successful Starbucks chain which offers top quality coffee drinks in a friendly and relaxed atmosphere Starbucks has a long record of appreciating Minitrends, but failed to recognize the trend that more economically-stressed customers were beginning to opt for similar, lower-cost drinks offered by fast food restaurants such as McDonald’s. While still popular, in summer 2008, the Starbucks company announced the termination of 1,000 employees, and in November 2008, the company reported a 98 percent decline in profit for the third quarter of the year. To be more economically competitive, Starbucks has recently introduced a line of instant coffee.

Tea is much more delicate than wine… The people who respond best to the intricacies of tea are people who enjoy wine. — JAMES LABE, tea sommelier/owner, Teahouse Kuan Yin (Seattle)

In 1990, a first time robber named David Zabback, decided to attempt to rob a local gun shop, just outside of Seattle, Washington. Zabback walked past a marked police car in the parking lot, located right outside of the gun shop, then walked past a police officer enjoying his coffee while talking to the owner of the store.   Zabback then screamed out "this is a hold up," only to have six separate individuals pull out their gun, a few of which shot at him. Zabback was shot multiple times, but also managed to fire a few bullets himself, most of which were fired into the ceiling.

In the Far East, coffee is often brewed with tea. In China this is known as 鴛鴦 or "yun yeung." These

propping my eyes open with a cup of muscle-bound coffee from the McDonald’s at Third and Pine. The restaurant mirrors the flavor of the street, and Third Avenue in downtown Seattle is an absolute cross section of life in this country. I love it and hate it.

You’ll never know their names. You’ll never recognize their faces as a life that you helped to save. But after tonight, you might walk the streets of Seattle and wonder whether the woman behind you in line at the coffee shop is one of them. Or maybe it will be the person at the grocery store in front of you that is trying to count exact change just to avoid using a credit card. These Nameless Women are all around us, even if they haven’t been able to change their names. I am one of them.

me a site visit in Seattle. Barry remembers the visit. “The committee were Hans Strupp, from Vanderbilt, who was one of the premier researchers from the psychoanalytic point of view, and Maria Kovacs, a child behavior therapist at University of Pittsburgh, very prominent.” These visitations can be quite intimidating, especially with scholars of that caliber. And for me, this was a big one. I was so nervous that I dropped a pot of coffee in my office. It went everywhere, a terrible mess. Did they want me to make another pot? I asked sheepishly. No, they did not! It was “Let’s get on with business here.” They discussed whether

Howard Schultz, the man who built Starbucks into a colossus, isn’t so different from Travis in some ways.5.22 He grew up in a public housing project in Brooklyn, sharing a two-bedroom apartment with his parents and two siblings. When he was seven years old, Schultz’s father broke his ankle and lost his job driving a diaper truck. That was all it took to throw the family into crisis. His father, after his ankle healed, began cycling through a series of lower-paying jobs. “My dad never found his way,” Schultz told me. “I saw his self-esteem get battered. I felt like there was so much more he could have accomplished.” Schultz’s school was a wild, overcrowded place with asphalt playgrounds and kids playing football, basketball, softball, punch ball, slap ball, and any other game they could devise. If your team lost, it could take an hour to get another turn. So Schultz made sure his team always won, no matter the cost. He would come home with bloody scrapes on his elbows and knees, which his mother would gently rinse with a wet cloth. “You don’t quit,” she told him. His competitiveness earned him a college football scholarship (he broke his jaw and never played a game), a communications degree, and eventually a job as a Xerox salesman in New York City. He’d wake up every morning, go to a new midtown office building, take the elevator to the top floor, and go door-to-door, politely inquiring if anyone was interested in toner or copy machines. Then he’d ride the elevator down one floor and start all over again. By the early 1980s, Schultz was working for a plastics manufacturer when he noticed that a little-known retailer in Seattle was ordering an inordinate number of coffee drip cones. Schultz flew out and fell in love with the company. Two years later, when he heard that Starbucks, then just six stores, was for sale, he asked everyone he knew for money and bought it. That was 1987. Within three years, there were eighty-four stores; within six years, more than a thousand. Today, there are seventeen thousand stores in more than fifty countries.

I woke up earlier that day in Seattle, and the first thought that crossed my mind wasn't about workouts or practice or preseason. I found myself wondering if Molly drank coffee. If she was a morning person or a night owl. If she slept sprawled across her bed like I did mine. And how tonight, I'd go to bed under the same roof as her.

In 1994, former Guns N Roses bassist, Duff McKagan, decided to invest $100,000 in local Seattle companies, including an expanding chain of coffee shops, a software company and an online book seller; Starbucks, Microsoft and Amazon.

Images began scrolling. Crime scene photos. Scanned newspaper clippings. Pictures of flipped cars and fire-gutted buildings. Obituaries. Autopsy reports. Each item related to an accident or crime. I paused the slideshow to scan several articles. Detected the theme. Every crime was unsolved. Every accident was freakish and unexplained. Many incidents had numerous victims. Some were grisly. All were terrible. One after another the entries flashed on-screen. A few settings were identifiable. Seattle. New York City. Las Vegas. The majority were unrecognizable. Shelton turned to me. “So what, he’s into police reports? Disaster stories?” “They’re his work.” My stomach churned with revulsion. “Everything on here. This must be the Gamemaster’s private archive. A diary of his twisted games.” “Trophies.” Hi’s voice was hushed. “His collection. Every serial killer has one.” Ben’s fist slammed the coffee table. “I’ll kill this sick freak!” Suddenly the screen went blank. There were sounds like a videogame, then a new program opened. The Gamemaster’s face appeared. “Hello, Tory.” He smiled. “Welcome to my humble home.

Without fanfare, Starbucks was also going to open two coffee shops in Seattle that were not like any of our existing stores. Each would serve Starbucks coffee but be unique

When I was in high school, I would drive into Seattle to see bands and sip coffee late into the night, and I always ended up taking the long way home. I'd be a little anxious about stalling my Datsun on one of the hills around the city, so when I saw Denny Way, I always turned onto it, even though it led away from my home to Seattle's Capitol Hill district. From there I navigated winding hills and eventually ended up at home. A quick look at a map would have revealed the freeway that heads straight to my house, but since my circuitous route was familiar, I stuck to it. I should have known better, but I was just a kid. What excuse does the richest nation on earth have for driving around in the dark like an adolescent? Just because our familiar arguments over how best to help families and the economy lead us along well-trod paths doesn't make them the best ones we could be taking.

ceremony rehearsal, and one of the groomsmen dared to suggest that Evan might want to take a small sedative before the real wedding, which, as you can imagine, did not go over well. Oh, and Francois threatened to quit halfway through the final menu tasting.” Harmony cringed. “Yikes.” “I think if Francois would have quit, I would have too.” I sighed. “I believe it. I’ve never seen you use the coffee table as an ottoman before.” I smiled and wiggled my toes. “I don’t know why not.” “Well, as you explained to me, this here is an authentic Jason Partillo design,” Harmony replied, a lilt in her voice as she gently needled me with her elbow. I laughed softly. “Are you trying to say that those of us who live in diva houses shouldn’t throw shoes?” She barked a laugh. “No. This Evan guy sounds like he left diva in the dust a long time ago and plowed straight into narcissistic jerk land.” “Can’t argue with that.” I closed my eyes, my head leaning against the back of the sofa. “Two days and then it’s over and they won’t be my problem anymore. I have fifteen weddings between now and June. That’s going to feel like a walk in the park compared to this nonsense.” “And in the meantime, you get the rest of the night off to spend with me and your bestie!” Harmony said. “Assuming I can stay awake, that is,” I replied, peeling my eyes open. “I should have left room in the schedule for a pre-dinner nap.” Harmony laughed and sprang off the sofa to continue getting ready. “Do you think I should wear my black tights with the red sweater dress, or can I get away with jeans? Is the place we’re going fancy fancy or fancy-ish?” I smiled at my sister’s nervous musings. She wasn’t one to ask for my fashion advice, mostly because I preferred my clothes hole-free and didn’t own anything with spikes or studs on it. While she could dress up when the situation warranted, Harmony tended toward a certain grunge-chic aesthetic with colorful streaks in her otherwise bleached-blonde hair, four piercings in each ear, and a penchant for artfully torn clothing and bomber jackets. And she’d recently added a small crystal stud to her nose. “It’s fancy-adjacent,” I told her. “Go with the leggings and dress.” Harmony nodded, even as her teeth worked nervously at her lower lip. I smiled. “She’s going to love you, Harmony. Stop stressing.” Holly Boldt, my good friend and fellow witch, was coming into the Seattle Haven to speak at a potion making conference, and we’d made plans