Coffee Experts & Writers

I came to coffee sideways—through years of lab work that taught me to question everything and measure twice. When I burned out on that career, I realized I'd already been applying the same rigor to my morning brew. Now I spend my time understanding exactly why a cup tastes the way it does. I've tested more variables than I care to admit, competed in brewing competitions, and consulted for roasters who wanted to geek out on extraction science. My partner David has banned experiments from our kitchen after one too many "incidents," and our cat Erlenmeyer judges me from atop the espresso machine. I write because I believe understanding the why makes you a better brewer. Not to create more coffee nerds like me—but to help you troubleshoot, experiment, and find what works for your cup. The science is fascinating, but the goal is always a better morning. Based in the Pacific Northwest. Probably recalibrating something right now.

I used to review tech products for a living. Then I realized I cared more about dialing in my espresso than any product launch, and here we are. After years in tech journalism, I pivoted to coffee equipment—and I've since tested more grinders, machines, and accessories than my small apartment can hold. My roommate has threatened to move out if one more box arrives. I regret nothing. I grew up watching my nonna make espresso in a dented Moka pot that's older than me. It still sits on my counter as a reminder that great coffee doesn't require a second mortgage. My job is to help you figure out what's actually worth your money—and what's just marketing. I'll give it to you straight, even when it's awkward. Based in New York. Yes, I have a spreadsheet for this.

I trained as an agricultural scientist, but I eventually traded the lab for the hillside. Best decision I ever made. I've spent years visiting coffee farms across multiple continents, learning enough Spanish to get by and enough Portuguese to be dangerous. Some of my closest friendships started on those trips—farmers I still exchange messages with, whose kids I've watched grow up, whose harvest worries I hear about every season. I write because I believe every cup of coffee carries a story—of place, of season, of the family who grew it. Not as marketing copy, but as genuine connection to something real. When you taste honey sweetness or bright citrus, you're tasting someone's work, someone's home, someone's year. I want to help you taste that story. Based in New England. Probably drinking something I should've roasted days ago.

I spent years as an academic anthropologist before realizing I'd rather write for real people than peer reviewers. I've been studying coffee ceremonies and rituals across cultures for as long as I can remember—and I've been chasing those stories ever since. I've witnessed rituals that made me cry—every time, without fail. I've listened to elders explain traditions their grandmothers taught them, and café owners preserving customs in communities far from their homeland. These stories matter. Not as quaint relics or aesthetic content, but as living wisdom about how humans connect. I grew up in the South, where I learned early that what we consume together carries culture. Now I live with my wife Margot and our elderly dog Buna—named after the Ethiopian word for coffee. I write to help people see their morning cup as part of something larger and older than themselves. Based in the Southeast. Still taking notes.

I've been behind the counter for over a decade. I opened my café with a small inheritance from my grandmother and a belief that my neighborhood deserved better than chains. I learned more in my first year of early morning openings than any classroom ever taught me. I've served more cups than I can count. I've watched first dates turn into marriages and marriages end over coffee. I've hired people for their first jobs and watched them grow into adults. I know my regulars' orders, their kids' names, and sometimes more about their lives than I expected to. I'm not precious about coffee. I'll make you a perfect pour-over, but I'll also make a vanilla latte with extra whip and not judge. Coffee is supposed to make your day better, not make you feel stupid. I write the way I talk to customers—real, practical, no pretense. My job is to help you find what works for you. Based in the Midwest. Probably need more sleep.