The original Starbucks store was a modest place, but full of character. The
minute the door opened, a heady aroma of coffee reached out and drew me in.
Behind a worn wooden counter stood bins containing coffees from all over the
world. Remember—this was a time when most people thought coffee came from
a can, not a bean. The counterman scooped out some Sumatra coffee beans,
ground them, put the grounds in a filter in the cone, and poured hot water over
them. Although the task took only a few minutes, he approached the work
almost reverently, like an artisan. When he handed me a porcelain mug filled
with the freshly brewed coffee, the steam and the aroma seemed to envelop my
entire face. I took a small, tentative sip. Whoa. I threw my head back, and my
eyes shot wide open. I felt as though I had discovered a whole new continent.
By comparison, I realized, the coffee I had been drinking was swill.
In the spring of 1983, when he had been at Starbucks for a year, Schultz traveled to
Milan to attend an international housewares show. He noticed a little espresso bar close
to his hotel and ducked inside to look around. It was on that day that he discovered the
ritual and the romance of coffee bars in Italy.
I saw how popular they were, and how vibrant. Each one had its own unique
character, but there was one common thread: the camaraderie between the
customers, who knew each other well, and the barista, who was performing
with flair. Each was a neighborhood gathering place, part of an established
daily routine. The Italians understood the personal relationship that people
could have to coffee, its social aspect. If we could re-create in America the
authentic Italian coffee bar culture, it might resonate with other Americans
the way it did with me. I was truly convinced that the essence of the Italian
espresso experience—the sense of community and artistry and the daily
relationship with customers—was the key to getting Americans to learn to
appreciate great coffee.
Schultz was determined to re-create a true Italian-style coffee bar. For music, only
Italian opera was played. The baristas wore white shirts and bow ties. All service was
stand-up, with no seating. The menu was covered with Italian words. Even the décor
was Italian. However, he bit by bit realized many of these details were not appropriate
for the United States. People started complaining about the incessant opera. The bow
ties proved impractical. Customers who were not in a hurry wanted chairs. Some of the
Italian foods and drinks needed to be translated.
The original Starbucks store was a modest place, but full of character. Theminute the door opened, a heady aroma of coffee reached out and drew me in.Behind a worn wooden counter stood bins containing coffees from all over theworld. Remember—this was a time when most people thought coffee came froma can, not a bean. The counterman scooped out some Sumatra coffee beans,ground them, put the grounds in a filter in the cone, and poured hot water overthem. Although the task took only a few minutes, he approached the workalmost reverently, like an artisan. When he handed me a porcelain mug filledwith the freshly brewed coffee, the steam and the aroma seemed to envelop myentire face. I took a small, tentative sip. Whoa. I threw my head back, and myeyes shot wide open. I felt as though I had discovered a whole new continent.By comparison, I realized, the coffee I had been drinking was swill.In the spring of 1983, when he had been at Starbucks for a year, Schultz traveled toMilan to attend an international housewares show. He noticed a little espresso bar closeto his hotel and ducked inside to look around. It was on that day that he discovered theritual and the romance of coffee bars in Italy.I saw how popular they were, and how vibrant. Each one had its own uniquecharacter, but there was one common thread: the camaraderie between thecustomers, who knew each other well, and the barista, who was performingwith flair. Each was a neighborhood gathering place, part of an establisheddaily routine. The Italians understood the personal relationship that peoplecould have to coffee, its social aspect. If we could re-create in America theauthentic Italian coffee bar culture, it might resonate with other Americansthe way it did with me. I was truly convinced that the essence of the Italianespresso experience—the sense of community and artistry and the dailyrelationship with customers—was the key to getting Americans to learn toappreciate great coffee.Schultz was determined to re-create a true Italian-style coffee bar. For music, onlyItalian opera was played. The baristas wore white shirts and bow ties. All service wasstand-up, with no seating. The menu was covered with Italian words. Even the décorwas Italian. However, he bit by bit realized many of these details were not appropriatefor the United States. People started complaining about the incessant opera. The bowties proved impractical. Customers who were not in a hurry wanted chairs. Some of theItalian foods and drinks needed to be translated.
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