Well, we can cross The Barn Light off the list of potential spots to get coffee as it used to be, in the World Before April.
I stopped in there last week on a walkabout through wild Downtown Eugene, the Greatest City in the World for Arts and the Outdoors. The barista was, she informed me, educated about coffee, and older than she looked; that is, old enough to remember how it used to be. She guessed I was going to find their roast unpleasantly sour, but she wanted to make a fresh pot to make sure I got a fair tasting.
So, she brewed and I waited. Fortunately, there was a recent copy of the RG front section. Brilliant, as usual. Apparently, a professor at the UO has some serious doubts over the objective validity of our Facebook ‘news’ feeds. Blew my mind. What if, I thought, I can’t even trust my own posts?
It was in this profoundly unsettled state that my taster cup arrived across the counter. I sipped it black, even though I never drink it that way.
“Do you hate it?” she asked
“Yeah, I hate it. But I really appreciate you taking the time…”
“I bet you like French roast.”
“French roast is like taking all the hard work of those people who grow the beans and burning it to the ground.” With that, she turned and walked away.