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I’ve been in the coffee world since 2002, when I took a job as a barista during college. At first, it was just a fun way to make money—a semester at a corporate café followed by a gig at a small shop in Georgetown. That second café had a La Marzocco machine, used David Schomer’s Espresso Vivace blend, and was one of the first in D.C., bringing Third Wave coffee into the scene. I had no idea I’d be here over two decades later, still immersed in this world, but there was something about coffee that fascinated me. It felt endlessly complex, deeply rooted, and full of stories. I stayed because there was always something new to learn, and I liked being around people who were curious and passionate. 

That curiosity led me through a wide range of roles and experiences. Today, I’m part of the coffee sourcing team at Counter Culture Coffee, where I also sit on the marketing leadership team. I manage coffee buying relationships in Honduras, Colombia, India, and Uganda. My work includes sourcing, cupping, product development, storytelling, and producing our annual Transparency Report. It’s a dynamic role that connects me to the farms where coffee begins and to the customers who enjoy the final cup. One of the most unique things about working in coffee is how it tells the story of the world—connecting trade, culture, and industry. Few other products are both as ordinary and as extraordinary as coffee: consumed daily by millions, yet wrapped in complexity that touches nearly every continent. 

In the early days, I knew next to nothing about coffee itself. It came from a roaster, and that was about the extent of my understanding. We didn’t think about where it was grown or who harvested it. Our focus was entirely on technique—distribution in the portafilter, tamping, extraction time. I thought that was what made coffee “specialty.” The farmer, the origin story, the processing? Not on our radar. 

But everything changed when I first encountered Counter Culture Coffee in 2005. Suddenly, I was surrounded by people who were talking about soil, climate, and varietals—and how all of that shaped flavor. That’s when I realized that what made coffee truly special wasn’t just how it was brewed, but where and how it was grown. At CCC, I found a team that cared deeply about the places where coffee is produced. They believed origin defines specialty. A Nicaraguan cooperative’s coffee tastes nothing like a micro-lot from Kenya, and that’s the magic: the differences in land, weather, process, and the people behind it all. 

By 2012, the industry had become laser-focused on traceability. Stories took center stage—how a coffee traveled from Africa to Brazil, or what made a particular community’s approach unique. Around the same time, quality in the cup became an obsession. There was real energy around sourcing the absolute best coffee. Machines were evolving too—La Marzocco, for example, developed technology that allowed for pressure profiling and temperature customization for different groups, perfect for cafés serving more than one espresso. This technical progress was all in service of delivering the best possible flavor. 

But trends shift. Today, I see the industry leaning into a blend of quality and storytelling again. There’s less dogma, more nuance. Because there’s no universal definition of “specialty coffee,” companies and cafés highlight the aspect that aligns best with their values—processing methods, origin, extraction technique, or flavor. That freedom can be empowering, but it can also be dangerous. It’s easy to craft a simplified story that resonates with a target audience, even if the coffee behind it isn’t particularly sustainable or transparent. A delicious cup doesn’t guarantee a just supply chain. 

That’s why I believe transparency and education are more important than ever. At CCC, we publish a Transparency Report every year, not just to show what we paid for coffee, but to put it into context—comparing it to market prices and outlining what a sustainable price might look like. We break down our investments too—how much goes to marketing, how much supports staff. It’s about showing people the whole picture so they can make informed decisions. 

Sustainability can’t be defined by price alone. If a cup of coffee ever costs $15, it will limit access to a narrow slice of consumers and producers. The real solution lies in investing in agricultural research—developing coffee plants that require fewer resources, resist climate change, and yield more. Education for producers, agronomy courses, and long-term thinking are critical. Simply asking people to pay more isn’t sustainable. 

Competitions were another chapter of my journey. In 2005, my boss encouraged me to enter my first barista competition, and that experience completely reshaped how I saw the industry. It was a door into a much bigger world. I met incredible people and got hooked on learning more. At first, competing was about connecting with others. Then it became about refining the craft. Eventually, it became a personal challenge. Winning the United States Barista Championship in 2012 was a pivotal moment—it helped me conquer my fear of public speaking and sharpen my storytelling, which I now see as one of the most powerful tools for transforming this industry. 

If I weren’t in coffee, I’d probably be editing cookbooks. I love writing and editing, and I’m drawn to the challenge of simplifying something complex into something clear and beautiful. Cookbooks are rich with culture, history, and technique, and distilling all of that into a single page is something I’d find deeply satisfying. Plus, testing recipes wouldn’t be the worst job in the world. 

Coffee still holds that kind of richness for me. A perfect cup tastes sweet and clean—it warms me from the inside out. But it’s not just about taste. When I’m drinking a great cup, it pulls me into the moment. I become more aware of everything around me. That’s what makes it perfect—not just the beverage, but the experience. 

At Counter Culture Coffee, we’ve always believed that quality and sustainability should be industry standards—not differentiators. That philosophy is part of what sets us apart. Over the years, I’ve seen the company grow and evolve. I’ve been here 17 years, and things have certainly changed—onboarding, for instance, used to include a personal lunch with Brett, our co-founder, at a tiny Jamaican place in Durham. Now, orientation is virtual, which makes it more flexible and inclusive. Still, I miss that kind of personal touch. Because in the end, whether it’s sourcing coffee or welcoming a new teammate, connection is what keeps everything grounded. 

And maybe that’s the throughline in all of this—connection. Coffee connects us to each other, to the land, to our own stories. It’s a simple drink with extraordinary depth. And I’m still learning from it, every single day.