Grinding it out

I really didn’t think my little town was big enough for two independent coffee shops. And perhaps it isn’t. But there does seem to be a competition brewing on the east end of Main Street.

When Old Town Grounds opened a few years ago, it seemed a quaint use of an old house sitting right next to the dairy-turned-farm store-turned-hodge podgy craft and knick knack emporium. I wasn’t so certain the local joint would fare well since there is a stand-alone Starbucks and two more in grocery stores just down the road a spell. But I’m not much of a coffee drinker so what do I know?

It turns out the Old Town coffee house developed quite a loyal following of folks not wanting to drive all the way over to the other side of town (half a mile) for globalized java. A fireplace, comfy chairs, and free Wi-Fi seemed to keep Old Town’s cappuccino machine steaming. So much so that when a quilt shoppe (definitely with the bonus p and e) about a block away decided to permanently shut, the coffee lady quickly jumped on the opportunity to move to a larger and even quainter locale. Now with even comfier chairs, added sandwiches, and beautiful stained glass windows, Old Town mochas can be enjoyed in a 1920’s brick church, covered patio seating coming soon.

So when the big move happened, the town was curious to see what would take over the old house. Faster than you can steep a mug of Earl Grey, signs went up for something called “Cafe Jitters.” Yep, in a burst of copycat unoriginality, the old coffee house morphed into a new coffee house.

That was about four months ago. I worried about Old Town since the house location seems much more prominent and has better parking than the church. I also thought perhaps customers would just go to the house instead of the church out of habit. I obviously don’t know coffee people.

I drive by both coffee places almost daily. It isn’t hard since they are practically within spitting distance of each other. The parking lot of the church is almost always full and I often see bicycles leaning up against the steps. I have as yet seen anyone entering or exiting the old house’s newly painted “don’t ignore me” red door. Out of intense curiosity, I stopped by the jittery house one day with a friend. I know next to nothing about coffee except that the mocha I ordered was icky. Bitter, watery, no hint of creamy chocolate flavor. So it turns out that it’s not just ambiance, location, and free Wi-Fi. As in most things, I suppose, taste matters.

And it seems word is getting out. The signs of desperation at the jitter hut are embarrassing. The front lawn is covered in signs advertising the menu and free Wi-Fi. In the corner of the lawn is one of those signs pointing direction and distance to various cities around and about. The owner’s Australian accent explains the Sydney pointer (and bangers). There’s a large banner above the door. There are lonely tables and chairs filling up the grass not dotted with signage. A few weeks ago, an anorexic mannequin festooned with a black drape and yet more signage appeared on the front stoop. I keep waiting to see him? her? relaxing at one of the outdoor tables. There’s plenty of seating available.

As Rob and I drove past the screaming-for-attention coffee house this morning, we noticed two men standing across the street staring at it. Rob thought perhaps they were marveling at the advertising run amok. I’m kinda hoping they were discussing how great a location it would be for a wine shoppe.