Week 2 Winning Stories (March 17-23)

Winning Story:
A confirmed Peetnik even before the name was coined, I began mail-ordering Peet's when I moved away from the Bay Area in the mid 1980s. In 1992, I joined the history faculty at Rutgers in Camden. Along with my books, I (naturally) brought a supply of Peet's and a coffeepot to my office. I had been hired at the same time as another female historian and I was eager to meet my new colleague. When she stepped into my office for the first time, I offered her a cup of coffee. She demurred: "No thank you, I have my own upstairs." I promised her that my coffee was good, and she -- reluctantly, as I later learned -- agreed to try it. She sniffed what was in the cup, took one sip, and looked up at me. "Peet's!" she said with approval. As it turned out, not only did she have a very discerning nose, she too came from the west coast and ordered her Peet's by mail. Like me, she was adamant about remaining true to the best coffee in the world. We've been good pals ever since that first tasting, and we credit Peet's for launching our friendship.

Winner #2: Katja Bloomquist

Winning Story:
For me, coffee is Peet's. I grew up in a family that loved Peet's, who gave and received Peet's shipments at gifts, and enjoyed every cup of it. When I started drinking coffee myself, I found I liked many aspects of Peet's: the mission of the company, the lack of a Peet's on every corner, the way they treat me when I walk in the door, and most of all the quality of the coffee and teas that they offer. As if that is not enough, many, if not all, of my friendships have been strengthened over a cup of Peet's coffee or tea. Thanks Peet's for all that you do!

Winner #3: Matt Guerino

Winning Story:
I posted my love-of-Peet's story on my blog (summitperspective.blogspot.com) simply to advertise my love of Peet's coffee. Two days later I learned that Peet's is running a contest with such stories! Should this story be selected as a winner, both you and I will enjoy Peet's free for a year. So here is my story, edited a bit to conform to the contest guidelines:

Destiny or Coincidence? My love of Peet's Coffee

Some things, it seems, are just meant to be. You know what I mean: everything seems to align in an uncanny perfect way, things seem more natural than breathing, and there are too many coincidences to be, well, just coincidences. So it is between myself and Peet’s Coffee.

My love for Peet’s began back in college. I was fortunate to spend my undergraduate years in that thriving bastion of wild nuttiness known as Berkeley, CA - the same place where, 25 years earlier, a Dutchman named Alfred Peet decided to open the nation’s first real coffee shop.

I was originally drawn to the coffee itself. The deep, rich brewed coffee and the aroma of exquisitely roasted beans drew me as a moth to the light. My UC Berkeley days were characterized by regular stops at the Peet's store across from the Claremont Hotel to load up on beans for the coming week's espresso-fueled late night study sessions.

In fact, Peet's espresso became an after-dinner way of life for my roommate Mike and I. As soon as the meal was done, Mike would volunteer to go get the milk while I went upstairs to begin pulling shots from my small espresso machine. Eventually this nightly ritual transpired without any words at all. We'd simply make eye contact, nod knowingly, and swing into carefully choreographed action. Within minutes the espresso was flowing.

It wasn't until later that I learned that the ethos and history of the company itself resonated with my soul. When Peet moved to the US after WWII he was reportedly appalled at the quality of coffee Americans were drinking (he must have run into church coffee - as a pastor, I can say that). So he opened his first store on Vine Street in Berkeley with a simple, yet profound and moving mission: to raise the expectations of American coffee drinkers. Poetry, pure poetry!

It is a little-known fact that Peet (interestingly enough, Peet seems like a cherished old uncle to me even though I never met the man), trained three young men in the art of real coffee roasting. Those three later left the business and started a little coffee joint in Seattle they named… Starbucks. No, I’m not kidding. In fact, Peet’s Coffee supplied Starbucks with its beans when Starbucks was just getting off the ground. From there Starbucks sold their collective soul to the demon of commercial enterprise, of course, but that’s a different subject. However, one of those founders became so disenfranchised with Starbucks that he left the business and became the CEO of Peet’s after Uncle Alfred retired in the 80's.

Anyway, Peet’s Coffee never left its original mission, or its dedication to simply brewing real, good, coffee. Simple. Real. Can you see why I like it so much?

Now here’s where the story gets really interesting: it would appear that Peet’s loves me too. In fact, they’re following me wherever I go. Shortly after I moved to Portland, OR I began to despair of ever finding a good source for coffee locally, so I did the only truly sensible thing I could do: I mail-ordered from Peet’s. (Small confession: I do admit to some smug sense of superiority at the thought of mail-ordering coffee from out of state when I lived within walking distance of several Starbucks stores. )

Then, after several years of fantastic-smelling mail, Peet’s opened their first Portland store on NE Broadway, just 10 minutes from our house. When I asked them why they chose Portland, they said mail order volume was a big factor. I knew then that I had done my part.

However, the final proof materialized when my wife and I moved across town to Beaverton in 2006, without a Peet’s close by. Until 3 months ago, that is, when Peet’s opened a brand new store (a.k.a. “Matt’s other office”) less than a mile from where I work. Could life get any better?

So I ask you: is this mutual, win-win relationship not a textbook example of pure destiny? I, for one, thoughtfully savor the aroma from of a mug of Peet's Ethiopian Fancy, and say yes indeed - it was simply meant to be.

- Matt Guerino

Winner #4: Patricia West

Winning Story:
How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
Of Arabica beans grown at 4000 to 6000 feet
In rich volcanic soil. With good drainage.
I love thee to the level of my daily need
For a smooth rich cup of Major Dickason’s Blend
Or some other varietal.
I love thee freely, as the bird-friendly shade-grown beans.
I love thee purely, like the hand-roasted coffee, made in small batches,
And delivered fresh within 24 hours of roasting.
I love thee with the passion put to use
In the careful deep roasting of the beans
That smoothes the taste and lessens the acidity.
I love thee with the breath, smiles, and tears
Of the roasters who taste every coffee that is roasted, every day,
In order to maintain Peet's high standards of quality and consistency.
And if fortune chooses,
I shall love thee with the Aroma, Bloom, and Flavor
Of a cup of freshly brewed Peet’s coffee.

Winner #5: Louise Woo

Winning Story:
Alas, I have been a Peetsnik so long that I have apparently outlived my blend!

Like so many others, I discovered Peets coffee as a college student at Berkeley in 1979. It took me a few months to discover "my" coffee. The French Roast was too strong to drink every morning, the Kona too light, Major Dickenson was somehow not sexy to me.

But then I discovered you Viennese blend! It was love. There were fireworks. I drank it every morning when I lived in the Bay Area for 10 years. Then I mail-ordered it when I moved to Los Angeles in 1989.

I was content. Happily married to my Viennese blend for more than 25 years. And then one day last year I walked into my local Peet's in Pasadena....to find it was GONE!

"WHERE IS MY COFFEE?" I cried to the poor, young counter attendant. "I have been drinking that coffee since BEFORE YOU WERE BORN!"

He gave me some blah-blah "reason" as to why you had discontinued my blend, but reassured me that we could recreate it with 75 percent Blend 101 and 25 percent French Roast.

I was concerned -- and a little dubious. But sure enough, when I ground it up the next morning, all was well.

So now I have to explain to all the nice, young counterpeople how to make MY Peet's blend when I come in. They're always happy to comply but I have to admit I feel somewhat like a dinosaur.

All I can say is you'd better NOT discontinue Blend 101! Where would I be then?

Winner #6: Alexa Young

Winning Story:
PEET'S FOR LIFE!
Two Coffee Haikus by Alexa Young

Cardboard-flavored sludge
Where DID you get this coffee?
Should have gone to Peet's
***
Liquid perfection
What is this blend called?
Major Dickason's

Winner #7: Lee Takasugi

Winning Story:
Why I Love Peet’s Coffee

Sumatra and I met when I was a college-freshman at U.C. Berkeley. He was leaning against a large bay window which over-looked onto Vine St., his eyes trailing me as I walked in my groggy state through the front door of Peet’s coffee shop. It was a foggy morning with a coastal chill coming in from the bay. I had stumbled out of bed at 7:20, hoping to jump-start a very uninspiring day of French class at 8:00 with a cup of the best coffee in the world. Little did I know that I would encounter a memory and a relationship that would haunt me for the next 21 years.

He had these deep, brown eyes and a rich, dark complexion. I swear I could almost see the heat rising like steam from his pores. I tried not to meet his gaze, but I could feel his eyes on me with each step I took toward the counter. It was almost hypnotic. I can’t remember much about the salesperson who took my order, but I could faintly hear a voice which sounded like mine say, “I’ll have what he’s drinking.”

And this shy, naïve 17 year-old girl, first time away from home, fresh-out of an all girls’ high school, suddenly felt over-taken by something of the likes of verve. I walked over to his table and in silence, sat myself down right next to him.

The next 23 minutes were like flashes of the best years of college in one sitting. We read Heidegger--he quoted Plato-- I recited Keats. We laughed about our folks, their expectations, our dreams. Sumatra talked about his childhood in Indonesia and how he traveled so far to come here. He talked about how he and his family would roast during the hottest of summers there. He liked Berkeley and the refreshing change in the chilly mornings. And of course, we talked about this favorite little corner in North Berkeley that emits the best aroma of coffee across Vine and Walnut.

And when we accidentally brushed against each other, unable to hide our breathless excitement, the shy 17 year-old suddenly and awkwardly returned. I remember turning into a blushing mess. Sumatra had this way of staring at me with those dark eyes, making me feel as if I could almost drink him in. And his scent? It was intoxicating.

The rest of that day was one hopeless and unbearably long blur. I floated on a cloud through French class, then English, then Creative Writing. I babbled on in discussions, my disconnected thoughts darting off confused faces. I could only focus on the next morning when I’d meet Sumatra again at our special place.

That morning came. I bounded through the front door of Peet’s, a racehorse on spindly legs. Change flew from my pocket and scattered on the floor. And as I bent down to gather-up what I’d dropped, I could hear Sumatra’s voice coming from that same corner of Peet’s. I left my change and suddenly looked up. He was at a table with another woman. She was holding him with her right hand and I felt the most invasive pang of jealousy imaginable. They were talking and laughing and sharing stories like I had done with him the day before. And what I thought was too good to be true—a love that only happens between two special souls-- apparently was only in my mind.

Sumatra had been discovered by another.

Like a bruised peach slumped on the floor, I abandoned the rest of my change, got up, ordered a cup of House, and walked solemnly out the door.

There is never a betrayal in a cup of Peet’s House.

It has been years since that fateful morning, and although I’ve met others, not one has compared to the heavenly buzz I got with Sumatra. I hung out for awhile with a chap we all used to call, “Major D.,” but that morning spent with Sumatra was one which I’ll never forget. He filled me up, tickled my toes, invigorated my brain and reached with gentle love deep down into my cells.

After I moved away, I wrote the folks at Peet’s to inquire about Sumatra. They told me he still hangs out at our little corner in North Berkeley. I could almost see him in my mind’s eye leaning up against that same misty bay window overlooking Vine. I asked how I might get in contact with him—possibly see him again, take-in his intoxicating aroma.

And the lady at Peet’s responded flatly, “He’s available, he’ll even come out to you once a month….but it’ll cost ‘ya.”

Winner #8: Debby

Winning Story:
Hi-I am a sleepless mom of three busy young children and currently a dog with 4 puppies. I love Peet's coffee. Without coffee I'd be in big trouble. My dad puts it best, it is the elixer of life (wise words from another Peetnik). Some days it is the anticipation of my afternoon cup of Peet's that pull me out of the blues caused by piles of laundry, dirty dishes, and the endless picking up of scattered toys. My children will even comment on the need for my ritual cup. Peet's is dedicated to maintaining the quality slow roasting that unleashes the essence of their well-picked coffee beans that you just can't find anywhere else. Basically it boils down to this:

I could drink Peet's in a car,
I could drink it from a baby food jar,
I could drink it bathing my three,
I could drink it while cleaning miss-shot pee,
I could drink it while cooking dinner,
and picking up after the pillow fight winner,
I could drink it wiping green noses,
and cleaning puke off the pillow with roses,
I could drink it here and there,
yes, I could drink it anywhere
I LOVE IT, I LOVE IT, I LOVE IT I DO
I LOVE PEET'S COFFEE AND SO WILL YOU!

Try it, try it, you will see, that Peet's isn't just the best for me. You'll be changed, you'll be renewed. Thank you Peet's for all you do(oh, and Dr. Suess too)!

Winner #9: Jacqueline Foutz

Winning Story:
Howdy Pardners,

Years ago I sauntered into a Peets Coffee Shop in Palo Alto. Cowgirl Beth showed me the way. We were choking on the trail dust of shopping. Confused in this new part of the Wild West I bellied up to the bar and asked for their best brew. The coffee wrangler there sized me up and gave me a large Major Dickason’s blend. This was a new rodeo of taste for me. I can still remember inhaling the smooth exotic flavors from the best of the coffee world. I can still savor those first few sips as I still do every morning. I can use it for a fancy espresso or enjoy it in red eye gravy. I even take along the little French press I bought from Peets for when I go on the trail.

Any way I drink it – it’s a must have every day and I’ve been punchin it ever since.

All you posse members come up to my ranch house and have a cup. I’m usually caught hanging out around the corral with Latte, my cow horse.

Your pardner,
Jacque

PS I do not suggest you share your Peet’s coffee with your horse. Most of them got too much to think about already without adding an addiction.

Winner #10: Lisa Talley

Winning Story:
Few know my secret identity. Most know me as a mild mannered Peetnik who prefers French-pressed coffees.
But I have an other side, a secret identity, if you will, that I will reveal only to my closest confidants.

A few years ago, as I worked in a certain mermaid fronted coffee shop, there was a terrible accident involving an espresso machine and more steamed milk than I could ever imagine. An angry customer thew his macchiato at me, as I ducked to miss it, I tripped crashing into the espresso machine. When I awoke from the cataclysm, I felt different. It was as if the caffeine molecules had bonded with the carbon in my body. No longer could I bear the smell or taste of this so-called coffee.

My body wanted something more and I sought it out like an animal seeking its prey. I tried energy drinks and sodas, but these lacked the natural oils and olfactory stimuli to stabilize my body and unlock the new abilities that I knew existed after the accident.

Bleary-eyed and weak, I finally wandered into a Peet's. The scent of fresh beans was intoxicating. The variety.
The freshness. My mind swarm as I stumbled to the counter - there were too many choices. I soon overcame my sensory overload to order a French press of Major Dickason's Blend. As it touched my lips, a power awakened in me. There was strength, alertness, and a certain peace that only comes with a great cup of coffee. This magical elixer was the key to who I had become.

I am Java Girl.


Though I may look like your average Peetnik, I am on a quest to rid the world of over-roasted substandard
coffee. The Power of Peet's is within your grasp. Stay tuned for the next adventure of Java Girl. Until then, don't just drink coffee - Drink Peet's.