A Homebrewed Hodgepodge

From the street it looks like a very large brick: red, rectangular, rigid. Six uniform windows facing the street give the only indicator that this box is not simply a building block. Serifed lettering spells out Coffee Tea Coffee Tea Coffee Tea across the glass, and above these pronouncements a great sign heralds the Petaluma Coffee and Tea Company. Cozy, quirky, friendly—this is a hometown coffee shop.

Through the door and the faded, off-white entryway lie a wealth of smells, sights, sounds, colors; a sensory overload awaits. Eyes take in the worn and uneven floor, the visibly insulated ceiling, the sagging piano in the corner, the mismatched furniture, the odd decorum, the old fashioned coffee grinding machine, the wooden Indian statue, and the unnumbered trinkets that line support beams and flat surfaces. The nose takes in the sharp smell of freshly ground coffee, the elderly gentleman’s cologne next to you, the smell of the understuffed couch. The ears pick up on snippets of conversation: “You simply must try my new yoga instructor, his downward dog is just…“, “So I told him, no deal. With the housing market still in the state it’s in…“, “It’s the perfect alternative to episiotomy and it’s a wonderful way to use the afterbirth!” Merely entering the building is an experience.

In a corner, the old piano waits for a wandering customer to settle on its bench—as countless particles of dust already have—and play a few chords of a half-remembered song. In the mornings and early afternoons, an old man will occasionally teeter over, shakily plucking out jovial tunes from a bygone era, to the delight of harried mothers and hurried businessmen. Next to the piano droops a coffee plant that yields an average of eight beans annually. Beside this vegetation sits a gargantuan wooden mortar and pestle—allegedly from the deep jungle—a traditional device used for generations to grind coffee beans in the villages of the rain forest.

The regular morning customers walk in: the group consists of three to seven men between the ages of forty-five and eighty-something; they wear their beards and their signature hats and their event t-shirts with un-assumed pride as they settle in the hard-backed chairs situated around a worn wooden table. They loudly discuss events of every variety—the weather, the wives, the war—and welcome any input from passersby.

As the day ages, Petaluma’s vagabond musicians enter: the woman clasps a steel mandolin, the man, a battered banjo; both are dressed in what could be classified as Rivertown Revival wear, a smorgasbord of lace petticoats, button up boots, waistcoat vests, and penny loafers. She has chopped her thin bangs in a carefree manner, and his thick dreadlocks haven’t seen a blade in months. The artists, the musicians, the twenty-something hipster dreamers—these are the afternoon customers. These are the aspiring artist types who spend hours making their clothes look careless, who style their hair so that it looks slept-in, who preach about organics and hemp and soy and tofu and okra and the benefits of lunar healing. They meet. They greet. They claim this eclectic, quirky, and flavorful shop as their town hall.

The back of the shop is perhaps the most eccentric. There flocks an assortment of animals, mirroring the sundry group of customers within the shop. The inhabitants of the property adjacent to the car lot do not seem to believe in proper fencing, and their farm animals have claimed the unprotected territory. The chickens lay eggs beneath cars. The turkeys sit on windshields. The ducks vehemently hound patrons to their cars. Every now and again small flocks of young fowl will waddle about, chasing one another and bickering all the while. Although some customers are heckled by the curious creatures, most are charmed by their animal antics. They are the perfect quirky addition to the charismatic shop.

In a town that prides itself on local camaraderie while sporting several big chain stores and commercial retailers, this shop stands as a reminder of the idyllic values of Petaluma. This shop is for the local business men as well as the mothers of two. This shop is for the sleepless college students as well as the wide-eyed preschoolers. This shop is for wizened war veterans as well as apathetic teenagers. This shop is for health conscious yogis and unconcerned bachelors. A coffee shop is a place for drinks and for pastries: Petaluma Coffee and Tea is not only a place of physical nourishment, but of emotional nourishment. This shop is not for consumers; this shop is for community.

~Emerald D 0°