In Seattle, the only thing we love more than coffee is our coffee shops.
On a six-block walk I pass at least a half dozen, each with their own vibe: one focused on chai, another inside a yoga studio, a Starbucks that’s surprisingly busy for late afternoon downtown. I passed them all up to get to one shop in particular, where a barista named Jarvis would address me by name and make me a thoroughly decent latte with rose-flavored syrup — nothing out of the ordinary in Seattle. But Jarvis,…
