Page 18 of Nutcracker with Benefits
“Absolutely not,” I say, putting my hand on her lower back and steering her to the left. Our next stop isn’t far.
“Why, because you’re a man?” she teases. “Or because you’re a billionaire.”
I roll my eyes. “I’m not a billionaire.”
“An almost-billionaire.”
We bicker like this until we reach our destination. I know it’s coming, so I can smell the coffee from two blocks away.
“Oh man,” Clara says, head turning as we walk past the door. “That place smells amazing.”
I gently guide her into the next alleyway.
“Nash,” she says, mock-affronted. “Are you pulling me in here to have your wicked way with me?”
I laugh. “Later. For now, we’re at our next stop.”
Clara glances back over her shoulder and then to the door a few steps in front of us. “Is this the same place? The place that smells so good?”
There’s a sign to the left that says, “by appointment only”. I knock. “It is.”
Clara claps her hands in glee and the door opens.
“Nash, welcome.” Freddy offers me his hand and I take it. We haven't met before, or even talked on the phone, but Bea made all the arrangements, so he knew to expect us. Freddy is tall and lean, with shaggy blonde hair and a wide smile. “And you must be Clara,” he says, offering her his hand.
“Clara, this is Freddy Soren. This is his café.”
“Nice to meet you, Freddy,” she says.
“Come in, come in.” He waves us in and leads us immediately to the right, where there’s a small, brightly lit room. “This is our tasting room. Have a seat, and I’ll be back in a few minutes to get started.”
There’s a couch and coffee table with two upholstered chairs across from it. Clara peels her coat off and tosses it over the arm of the couch before settling into the corner, crossing her legs. “What are we tasting?”
I put my jacket over the back and just smile and shrug at her.
“God, Nash,” she says. “So secretive.” But she says it with a small smile, so I know she’s enjoying herself.
“Here we are,” Freddy says from the doorway, and he’s followed by two of his staff carrying long, white trays. A tray is set down in front of each of us.
Clara peers down at the four small espresso cups in front of her. “Smells fantastic. Do you mind if I take pictures?”
“Go ahead. Each cup is a brew of a different type of coffee bean,” Freddy explains, perching on a chair across from us. “Most coffee drinkers know the two major ones, Arabica and Robusta. But there are two more: Liberica and Excelsa. What we do here is very small batches of the last two, exclusively for our tastings. These beans are much harder to get, so we don’t serve them publicly. What kind of coffee do you usually drink?” he asks.
“I actually don’t know,” Clara says. “I usually just get whatever is available, and it’s not always consistent.”
“What about you?” Freddy asks me.
“I drink Arabica,” I answer. I only know because I checked the bag in my kitchen.
“We’ll start with that one then.” Freddy instructs us to take one cup—the second from the left—and sit back on the couch and focus on the smell and taste.
“I try my best to roast and brew the beans as similarly as possible, but because they have different properties, it doesn’t always work. Brewing a more exotic bean the same way you would brew an Arabica makes it bitter and is part of the reason why the rare beans haven’t caught on as well.”
“You know, I have been to tea rooms before, where there’s a giant menu of teas from around the world—white, green, black, etcetera,” Clara says, “but I don’t think I’ve ever heard of such a variety of coffee tastings.”
“There’s a lot of variety in tea, in terms of the base leaves, but there are rare and delicate tea types, too, that you won’t get at most tea rooms,” Freddy explains. “And just like coffee beans, some of them are cost prohibitive.”
“Like that civet coffee?” Clara asks, a teasing smile on her lips.
