Specialty Coffee Association Expo '25
PART 4/4: Back on the road: West Texas + Tucson + Lumbar Support = Okay face.
Editor’s note: This is part 3/4. Click here to check out part 1. Click here to check out part 2. Click here to check out part 3.
It's hard to recap an intense week of coffee exploration in a few hundred or even a thousand words, but I will try. First, what is Expo?* The Specialty Coffee Association puts on an annual event bringing together coffee roasters, vendors, farmers, tech companies, and more for a convention. The event includes a very large vendor floor, competitions for coffee skills, educational seminars, presentations, and networking events. There is also a very healthy party scene that takes place after Expo hours. This year's Expo occurred at the George R. Brown Convention Center in Houston, Texas.
*It was recently announced that next year, the event will be rebranded as World Of Coffee! The exclamation point is theirs.
BACK ON THE ROAD: DAY 4
Editor’s note: It took me a minute to get to this post, mostly because I’m recovering the routine of my life from several weeks on the road.
I woke up Sunday morning feeling calm and confident in my decision not to return for the third day of the Specialty Coffee Association (SCA) Expo convention. I’ve completed my obligations. I’ve met bunches on bunches of new people. I’ve drunk a ton of coffee—some that were Zowie! and some that were forgettable. Once again, I’ve spent less time than I’d have liked on the competition side of the floor and too much being distracted by the shiny new things.
It isn’t easy not to return. I did come all this way, after all, but I know that on the other side of the drive west is my lovely wife and batshit-crazy pup, both of whom I miss terribly. Could I meet one more person? Could I get a few more samples of tea? Could I reinforce my visage to a potential listener or watcher of my show? Probably.
But, I like leaving on a high note, and the happy hour the night before was definitely that. I saw my friends from Roastar, ran into everyone’s favorite coffee person, Pablo Lara, got to see regenerative coffee expert Nicole Diefenbach again, met some of coffee’s historically important women, slapped hands with Joe Bettinger, and even got some business gossip about a coffee business back home. All of that happened with a very well-made margarita in my hand, compliments of InterAmerican and InterAmerican/Neumann Kaffee Gruppe (NKG). That’s a high if there ever was one.
So, westward, ho.
SAN ANTONIO, TX
On the map you can head north through Austin, TX or south through San Antonio, TX and the difference in distance and (hopefully) time is negligible. I went south, favoring something new. I hit downtown mid-morning and pulled into a quarter-accepting meter around the corner from Vela Coffee Co. I ordered an espresso to stay and a drip coffee in my mug to go.
The next 15 minutes exemplify why I love coffee shops. I give the baristas Tip Your Barista pins. Micayla (sp?) asks me what I’m doing in town. We chat about the convention. She advises me on where to go and what to do downtown since I’m just passing through. Three other co-workers pop into our chat to offer recommendations or clarifications. All of them tell me they believe Vela is up there as a great San Antonio coffee shop, but willingly recommend other local shops they believe are doing coffee right. A few fireman on their way in hold the door, and a chorus of Good Luck! Nice to meet you! Hope to see you again! comments follow me out.
Coffee shops offer up the best of humanity. The worst, sometimes, too, but even the worst of us seem to be better when they’re getting a cup of coffee in a place that feels like home.
I wander down to the Alamo. It’s a nice tourist trap, err, recreation of the mission known as The Alamo. It was a battle site where—if I’m understanding this correctly—the Mexican army responded to the theft of the land by attacking a smaller group of Texan soldiers. The smaller group of Texans lost the battle after a two-week-long siege, and their story was told on the Texan/American side of the border to inspire both anger and nationalistic pride in the battle against Mexico for the land that is now part of America.
It seems important to note that this battle was a decade before the beginning of the Mexican-American War over the American annexation of Texas, and occurred because Texas was splintering away from Mexico, in an effort to be their own republic, not necessarily part of the United States. Sidenote: I just learned that Billy Bob Thornton played Davy Crockett in the 2004 film The Alamo.
This is a long-winded way of saying it was worth the wander because there is an incredible tree in the courtyard outside the church building, and walking out the main entrance will lead you right down to the San Antonio Riverwalk.
The Riverwalk is down below the city itself, shaded naturally by trees and buildings, and lined on both sides with shops and restaurants and enclaves for live music. The path along the River Walk runs several miles and is quite pleasant as the heat and humidity start rising with the sun. It is busy with what seems to be tourists to San Antonio out-and-about enjoying brunch and boat rides up the river.
A few miles away, I reconnect with a more local version of the Riverwalk in the Pearl District. The Pearl is a redeveloped brewery property that is a self-contained neighborhood where the roads are blocked to cars, markets and cafes are interspersed with condo buildings, and it all surrounds an oversized green lawn. There is an artist/farmers market lining the streets, and the grounds are packed. A DJ is spinning sets on one side of the lawn, and a few buskers are tucked away in corners. Residents and visitors are sipping cocktails and pints while their kids play in a water feature. It feels like the best of a car-free neighborhood.
I stopped at Local Coffee, but the line was so long that I decided to move on. I take the path along the river back to the car, enjoying the landscaped greenery and the sound of the birds. I’m trying to make it far into West Texas before dinner, and the forecast calls for thunderstorms.
DAY 5: WEST TEXAS
The weather never turns on me, but it is cooler and windier here. I have to park the car behind a building because the winds are strong enough to blow gravel across the roadway.
There is only one coffee shop in the small town I’ve found myself in, and it isn’t open on Mondays. I dig around in my box of convention goodies to find some single-serving pourover packs given to me by Kayla at Pourta. They are filled with coffee from Greater Goods Coffee Co. based in Austin, TX.
A few grizzled construction workers drinking coffees from the vending machine watch intently as I set up my mug and instant pourover, collect hot water from the coffee maker, and pour it over the grounds. I wonder if they are thinking I’m crazy, pretentious, or both. No matter. I decided to make two because the road is long and the sun is hot. I’ll note for the record. I was really impressed with this coffee as a single-serving pourover.
I hit the road for Arizona and pass through El Paso fairly early in the day. Did you know that El Paso has B.Y.O.B. strip clubs? I did not, but the billboards outside places with names like Chicas Locas informed anyone passing by to bring their own beers.
CHIRICAHUA NATIONAL MONUMENT
It’s an hour out of the way, but what’s an hour over the course of 6,000 miles? I reroute south of the highway only to find that 10 of the last fifteen miles are on washboard gravel roads that bounce and jounce me all over the dang place through a fairly desolate landscape.
When I arrived, the ranger let me know there was a perfectly lovely paved road through town that no one uses because the map apps see the dirt path as being shorter by about a minute.
Regardless, Chiricahua is worth the effort. I’m just here for a short walk and a picnic lunch, but you could spend days here hiking and camping. There are several varying landscapes to explore–hoodoos nestled into the forests, the trails along dried river beds, and the rocky mountainside leading you to views of the valley floor. It’s windy, and the Rangers warn that the rattlesnakes are waking up. I grab a hiking stick from the car and double-check where I’m stepping.
TUCSON
I’m staying at a renovated motel with a design pulled directly from trending Instagram posts. It’s cute, and they have a nice bar with an automated computer screen and a commercial coffee machine. Unfortunately, the coffee being served is decidedly subpar. The prices are decidedly not. I don’t know that I’ve ever used decidedly in a sentence before. Three times feels like enough.
I borrow a bicycle at the front desk and cruise along a bike path until I find a container park with shops, a brewery, and a Decibel Coffee Co. It’s a fun little spot. Back in the room, I drag a desk chair outside and watch the sunset over a mountain. Excuse me, I watch it set over ‘A’ Mountain. That’s the name. The single quotation marks are part of the name.
DAY 6: THE ROAD HOME
In the morning, I head toward Presta Coffee in the Iron Horse neighborhood. I ran into a bunch of Prestonians (?) at the convention wearing the Coffee People Are Sexy stickers Roastar made up for me.* I wanted to drop some for the baristas who couldn’t make the show. I get turned around trying to follow the GPS. Are you sure I should be turning down this road with the train tracks? What if a train is coming? How do I know if the underpass is flooded if I can’t see it? AHHH!
I pull over to reset the map. I’m outside of Exo Roast Co., another spot I had thought about visiting. Life is funny that way. I walk in and immediately fall in love with the space. The exposed brick, the well-worn Probat machine, the barista who clearly cares about the coffee but doesn’t seem to give two shits about an excitable new customer. I ordered a batch and a single-origin espresso, which I thought was from Ethiopia, but it tastes like Central America.
Presta Coffee is just around the corner. I enjoy a series of murals on my way, and try not to let my pants fall down when I enter. It is the end of a long trip on the road, and I’ve lost my belt somewhere in the chaos of the car. This shot is definitely an Ethiopia Guji with fruit notes galore. It is round and bulbous in the mouth, and I sit on the front porch watching police cars go around the roundabout in what feels like a very leisurely parade.
The air is crisp and the coffee lovely. It’s my last day on the road. Behind me, the convention center had already been empty for a day, and the remnants of the convention floor had been tossed in a dumpster for a long time. It will be days, weeks, or maybe months until I realize the full slate of takeaways that have come from the weekend in Houston. Until then, I’ve only got six hours drive to the Pacific, and then a dozen pounds of coffee and tea samples to work through while reconnecting with the names on the stack of business cards in my backpack.
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