By Rory, Tasting Room Host

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East 9th Street opens in tandem with the initial cracks of the rising sun. It is turning 6:00 and the lights from the newly restored patio guide the way through residual darkness, perhaps a faint peck of yesterday's showers, and the acute nip of the cold. Beeps from the alarm bell awaken the drowsy senses and provide a moment's jolt of grounding reality. Looking around the tasting room, golden beams shine on through the sign reading "Caravan Coffee."

It is time for our day. 

San Franciscan roasters, ‘Franc’ and ‘Frannie’ - the meet-cute of the warehouse - spin rhythmically, a dance that's cheek-to-cheek like some bygone era. Wafting aromas of freshly roasted coffee are not shy to make themselves known. Each and every bean is the life of the party: Peru Café Femenino's nut butters and cocoa, Ethiopia Tsebel's ceremonious tea-like and floral delicacies, Brazil Monte Carmelo's rich caramel and almost locally familiar hazelnut, along with a dizzying array of capturing scents from other single origins and blended coffees. 

It is going to be a good day.

The aprons are fastened, hair tied, and a fresh pot of coffee is brewed, brewed for the team to gather for that first cup and the inevitable intermittent cups to come. The "Open" sign flickers on, and an hour later the tasting room is ready to rise, grind and educate. From the adjacent window, everyone in the warehouse gathers to incidentally contribute their parts to a bigger band of music, the music behind what goes into every bag and cup of coffee from Caravan.

It is time we begin our day.