Woof. Why do I get the feeling he won’t be much friendlier no matter how bright and early I show up?
“See ya soon, boss.” I snicker as I slide the contract over, lift my purse, and walk out the door.
Yesterday, when he said “lab,” I honestly thought it was just a fancy name for a back-room roastery.
But this place is shock and awe from the second I step inside.
Imagine a fancy CDC lab and NASA unit having a baby dedicated to inventing addictive beverages. It’s stainless steel and sleek machinery perched on marble everything as far as the eye can see.
Every contraption a master roaster could ever want in their wildest fever dreams. There’s high-tech equipment for weighing, measuring, temp testing, chemical analysis, and more.
My two-thousand-dollar coffee equipment at home feels like Stone Age technology.
With gear like this, I know I can make better coffee—and maybe a cure for cancer while we’re at it.
A middle-aged woman not much taller than me with short curly hair appears at my side. “You must be Eliza. Hello.”
I smile. “Yeah, that’s me.”
“Gina Walker. I’m the head of research and development.” She holds out her hand.
I shake her hand. “Awesome to meet you.”
“Likewise. It’s not every day a fresh face handpicked by Mr. Lancaster personally shows up to join us. I’m here to help you settle in. Let me show you to your desk.” She leads me to a cubicle. “We don’t spend a lot of time at our desks, but you have a computer and drawers. It’s good to check your emails whenever you can. Sometimes you’ll be testing all day, and that’s fine. Just log it as you come in and out.” She picks up a clipboard full of lab sheets. “These go to the testing stations with you, so you can record everything. It’s important to log each step, ingredient, and device used. If we don’t record it, we can’t repeat it, and we certainly can’t rely on our overworked brains to remember.”
Harsh, but sensible. I nod.
I’ve definitely had my memory hole days where I brewed up the perfect drink and then couldn’t replicate it to save my life.
Even if everything here is beyond futuristic, I’m always down for improving my technique.
“Everything happens here,” Gina continues. “Roasting. Mixing. Brewing. Literally everything. There’s a place to record observations at the bottom as well. These sheets need to be scanned in daily to keep us current on what works and what doesn’t. But if you’re still working late, it’s no big deal as long as they’re all in the system by Friday.”
I put my purse in my drawer and grab my clipboard. Maybe too eagerly.
Gina smiles. “Excited to get started, huh?”
“You have no idea. At the risk of sounding like a huge dork, coffee is my life.”
“You’re in good company then.” She laughs. “Let me show you where the beans are...”
We walk back to the lab area, where there are huge floor-to-ceiling storage compartments with hermetically sealed covers. They’re all brimming to the top with various beans listed from lightest roast to darkest. Notes about their chemical composition and origins are on the labels, too.
Gawking, I lift one of the covers and inhale the freshest scent I’ve ever smelled because it’s so good.
For a second, I wonder if I got flattened by a bus the day I walked out of that store after colliding with Lancaster. Because I’m in heaven.
Gina hands me a small container full of freshly roasted Sumatran beans.
“Mr. Lancaster said you made some unusually delicious coffee in a mason jar. He requested we start with that, if it’s okay with you.”
“I’m happy to show you, but I brewed it over a campfire. Any idea how we would replicate that in the lab?”
“Interesting.” She taps her chin, thinking. “We’ll fire up a grill for starters. If you need to, you can put the kettle directly on the flame. What kind of wood do you need?”
I grin.
There are long days and happy days in life.
Miraculously, this is about to be both.
Several hours later, Gina stops by and finds me stirring the pot.
“Smells intense! Is it ready for a taste test?” she whispers, adjusting her glasses.
“I think so.” I ladle a cup for myself and take a cautious sip. I smile as the brew nips at my tongue. “Yep, ready!”
I ladle out a second cup for Gina.
She takes a tiny sip at first and then a bigger one.
“...is that a hint of bourbon? This is amazing.”
“No actual bourbon, but it does have notes like something that came out of an aged barrel.” I grin proudly while she sucks down the rest of her drink.
Only a few hours on the clock and I’m already feeling accomplished.
That’s a rare thing for sure. Of course, if we spent all day drinking our samples, we’d be so wired we wouldn’t be able to function.