I've always had a love for coffee equipment. The machines. The ritual. The tiny miracles they produce.

 

Twenty years ago, I walked thirty minutes one way to Intelligentsia in L.A. I'll never forget the single-origin beans listed like rare gems. Tasting notes scribbled like poetry. I took a sip. My world cracked open. Coffee wasn’t just a drink. It was an experience.

 

A few years later, I painted a friend’s house in Seattle over two days. We survived on espresso. I then realized Coffee wasn't just a drink. Coffee was art. Coffee was culture. I wanted that. In the Midwest.

 

Horse Trader. My nickname. Me, always wheeling, always negotiating. The literal definition? Someone shrewd at making mutually beneficial deals. That’s the heart of this business.