The only unfortunate issue with Brewbakers is that it is located in Keene. Entering Keene from the north a couple of years ago, we had the impression that it was a small New England bible college town; on subsequent visits from the south, it became clear that Keene is a weekend shopping resort contrived for the taste of Massholes.

Our journey to this outdoor mall had its roots in the capitals of France, United Kingdom, and the Czech Republic. I had traveled to those villes solely for the fact that they were hosts to Country Life, a loose chain of vegan restaurants run by Seventh Day Adventists; every experience with Country Life in Europe had been phenomenally pleasant, and I sought to relive those days a bit, albeit perversely and from a distance. To this end, we peeled out of Waterville, Vermont, at 11am, disregarding every ‘Speed Limit’ sign on the highway to Brattleboro, letting the pedal off the floor only long enough to careen into rest areas for a few ‘Pay what you wish’ cups of Green Mountain.

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I’ve actually visited this coffeehouse (honestly I had just had a cuppa at Joe’s and was driving around and decided I had to use their restroom). So I bought a Cafe Latte for myself and Cafe Mocha for my mother while waiting for a our drinks to be prepared and after “my relief” I stood around with my hands in my pockets circling the whole room with my eyes. This place felt more like a futuristic Arcade than a coffeehouse. Neon Blues, Oranges, and Greens was the theme that was reflected throughout the space with the furniture. When you approach the counter, there’s this huge negative space between the furniture and the counter. So it’s feels like I stepped on stage to order a drink. There’s all this space; they could’ve added way more furniture (not to mention serve more customers) to give it a more “cozy” effect. The soft-spoken mono-syllabic barista mumbled a “hi” and stood there waiting as if I was a regular and already knew what I wanted to order. I didn’t feel like she was willing to be helpful whatsoever. I looked up at the menu and noticed the very limited menu. No wonder she just stood there. Not much to offer! I tried to create convo by saying “So.. who’s your roaster ?” No answer. “Is it Batdorf or Intelligentsia or something?” mumbles with a shoulder shrug “Umm ok… well cool ” Its not like divulging that information is the equivalent of a McDonald’s French Fry trade secret. But I get the feeling she had no clue as to what I was referring to.

As my mother and I got in the car, in unison, we took sips from our drinks and exchanged disgusted looks as if we ourselves made the drinks for each other. It was absolutely horrible!

So the ambiance was horrible along with its coffee. I hope they catch these issues in time because they have a pretty cool location and a lot of potential in a space like that. Ambiance and product quality are the most important factors here.

Business travel is a very odd experience. I do not care for it. It is a tease. I have been to Austin several times for business for various durations, the longest being a recent 3 day and 3 night stint. In anticipation I concocted what all of this extra free time I had there would mean to my understanding of the city, how much I could infiltrate, consume, and digest. It was enticing. The schedule of the days even seemed to support some possible daylight peregrination. I was wrong. The first problem with business travel is the sense that activities must occur in groups. One often sees groups of conventioneers or business men out wandering the city, ribbing each other, and enjoying the flow of comp’d booze and possibly a trip to a local naked establishment. I look at them and picture myself sloughing off the group and inserting myself into the alleys and parks with a batard and a text. Although my colleagues do not submit to the same long-distance pleasures as the typical business traveler it would still take an elaborate lie to sneak away to seek out my own path, and even then I might bump into them strolling away from the AMLI development as I head from Halcyon down to the river to look at the trains coming over the water. So time is lost.

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My perception of Austin is very skewed and alien, it remains so. I have been to Austin many times but have never had much opportunity to ramble out about its streets unfettered. My first derive was on a humid weeknight, after a day of thunderstorms. I moved quickly through downtown and across the Colorado River to the south side of the city. I was in search of something new. The city was crawling with dudes and skanks out to bar hop and I needed a cup of blackjoe. Flipnotic, down through the drollery of Barton Springs Road, the Whataburgers and Bennigans’ you do not find downtown, stood sweating above an intersection, a lone lit window with the indirect and low light of a delightful little coffee house. I was soaking wet standing before it, my hair slick with the night’s moisture and my shirt stuck to my back. Coffee in this state would be wretched, and probably spoil the remainder of the walk, but I ascended the steps, readying my pencil to do some serious work and soak up some AC.

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