I like coffee….alot. I didn’t start drinking coffee until my mid-thirties, strange as that may seem. Made it all the way through college without a bit of it in my system even during exams, etc. But now I’m really into enjoying a cup of french press, espresso, Americano, whatever I can get my hands on. So naturally I’ve developed a friendship with the owner/barrista of my local coffee shop, Frontside coffee. He takes my money and I get my fix – a decent relationship. Austin is not only a fantastic barrista but he can rip downhill single track like not many others I know, and during the winter months he rides almost everyday there’s decent snow. Over the past couple years he’s developed his business to include coffee roasting. I dropped in on him last week during his weekly Sunday morning roasting session to create a few photographs and soak in the sweet stink of java transforming from 40 lb bags of beans to 1 pound bags of goodness. I picked up a thing or two about where good beans comes from and all the different ways it can get screwed up on its way to my throat.