Long, long ago, in a strip mall not so far away (well, unless you consider Florissant the hinterlands), there was a specialty coffee roaster that brought to its patrons high-quality, single-origin coffees in a setting not intended for velvet couches and Wi-Fi. This little roaster quietly collected award after award from the Specialty Coffee Association of America while the rest of us jumped on the craft-beer and wine bandwagon. Then the hipsters came and hijacked gourmet coffee with a mustachioed vengeance, kidding most of us into thinking that they were the first answer to the large corporate chains. Armed with their Chemex and cold presses, these plaid-wearing pioneers rode their fixed-gear bikes all the way to the bank as they displayed their caffeine prowess across the coolest parts of town. Sure, they offered great coffee, but they left patrons filled with shame if they requested half and half in their Sidamo. Thank you, Alaska Klondike, for your long-running, quiet commitment to the cup, sans sanctimony.
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