Why I started this blog

6 June 2026

I’ve spent over 20 years working in coffee, but my relationship with it started long before it became a career.

I first learnt to make coffee when I was 14. Even before that, I was drawn to cafes. As a kid, I loved the way coffee brought people together. It was never just about the drink. It was the excuse to meet up, talk, ride somewhere, explore a new place or spend time with like-minded people.

Coffee has always been there; around bikes, Harleys, car meets, catch-ups with friends, road trips, new cafes, new roasters, new people and conversations about life. It became a way to connect with people, places and ideas.

That’s probably what pulled me in first.

I’ve watched coffee culture evolve from the early ’90s Sydney cafe scene, when frothy cappuccinos were everywhere, lattes came in massive glasses, and drinking macchiatos made me feel like I was pretty cool.

Then came the late ’90s and early 2000s, when the early pioneers of specialty coffee started doing amazing things. They were pushing quality, sourcing, roasting, brewing and service further than most people had seen before. I remember seeing things I’d never seen before and trying coffees that completely changed what I thought coffee could be.

Then, in the 2000s, double ristrettos seemed to be everywhere.

Brewing became more measured and intentional. Latte art was progressing. Roasting was advancing. Coffee became more technical, more serious and, at times, probably a little overcomplicated.

But it was fun. It was exciting. It felt like a movement. There was a real “if you knew, you knew” energy to it, driven by people who were completely crazy about coffee, in the best possible way.

They were the anarchists of coffee, not because they wanted chaos, but because they dared to do things differently. They questioned the status quo, pursued excellence when most people were still happy with “good enough”, pushed boundaries, challenged old ideas and refused to accept that coffee had to be the way it had always been.

That movement changed things. It pushed coffee quality forward. It changed how people thought about sourcing, roasting, brewing and service. It helped create a culture where better coffee could also mean better prices, better relationships and more respect for the people behind it.

I was part of that world, and I was deeply inspired by it. Those people shaped the way I think, not just about coffee, but about work, business and life.

The anarchists, the entrepreneurs, the obsessives, the people who dared to be different — they showed me what happens when you stop accepting things as they are and start asking what they could be. They challenged the status quo, took risks, built things before there was a clear roadmap, made mistakes, learnt fast and kept pushing.

That had a huge impact on me.

Coffee was becoming even more amazing, and I’m incredibly grateful to have been there for that moment. I feel privileged to have worked with some of the pioneers of that scene and learnt from incredible mentors along the way.

I was hooked. And the rest is history.

Over the years I’ve been a barista, trainer, educator, coffee buyer, roaster and problem solver. I’ve designed bars, helped build roasteries, worked on projects I’m genuinely proud of, and spent years in some of Sydney’s best espresso bars, learning from some of the best people in the industry.

Yet the longer I’ve worked in coffee, the more I’ve felt something was missing.

There is no shortage of information in coffee today. In fact, you could argue there’s too much. You can find endless content about gear, brewing recipes, grinder settings, water chemistry and extraction percentages.

But experience is harder to find: the lessons learned after thousands of hours behind a machine, at the roaster, on the cupping table and beyond. The mistakes. The things that worked. The things that didn’t. The ideas that challenge conventional wisdom.

Over the years, I’ve learnt that coffee can be made to feel far more complicated than it needs to be . And we ourselves can make it more complicated than it needs to be. At times, the industry can feel like everyone is chasing the next idea, the next trend or the next tiny detail, often without stopping to ask what actually matters.

I know, because I’ve been there too. I’ve been the perfectionist. I’ve overcomplicated coffee. I’ve gone too far down the rabbit hole chasing variables, perfect recipes and technical details that sometimes mattered, and sometimes really didn’t.

After all of that, one of the biggest lessons I’ve learnt is this: coffee can be incredible, and it can also be incredibly simple, if you know what to focus on.

That’s a big part of why I started this blog. Not to tell people what coffee should be. Not to sell a particular brewing method, coffee or anything else. Not to convince anyone that one coffee is better than another.

This blog probably won’t fit neatly into one category. It may wander through flavour, service, psychology, business, systems, culture, memory, hospitality, and the strange little ways coffee shapes how people think, feel and connect.

Some posts may be opinionated. Some may be personal. Some may be practical. Some may be half-formed ideas I’m still thinking through.

Some people may disagree with them and that’s okay.

Coffee is at its best when people get together, share ideas, experiment and stay curious.

This blog is partly about looking back at what coffee has taught me, but it’s also about asking what comes next.

The early specialty movement was built by people who questioned things. People who pushed quality, challenged pricing, improved sourcing, rethought roasting and made coffee better. They were the anarchists of coffee then.

But who are the anarchists of coffee today? Who is asking the uncomfortable questions now?

This blog is partly about looking back at what coffee has taught me, but it’s also about asking what comes next. More than anything, I think it’s about trying to make people think about coffee a little differently.

The early specialty movement was built by people who stopped and asked why coffee had to be done the way it had always been done. They dared to be different. They challenged old ideas about quality, pricing, sourcing, roasting, brewing and service. And in doing so, they helped move the whole industry forward.

In many ways, they were the anarchists of coffee then.

So who are the anarchists of coffee today? Who is asking the uncomfortable questions now?

Coffee is changing again. At the time of writing, green coffee prices feel more volatile than ever. Cafes and roasters are under pressure from every direction: coffee costs, wages, training , rent, freight, energy, equipment, customer expectations and the challenge of charging what things really cost.

Sydney and Australia have some of the best cafes in the world, but in many ways, we have also trained people to expect great coffee too cheaply. That tension is starting to show. More cafes are struggling. Some are closing. The future can feel uncertain, even grim at times.

So where are we headed? And how do we solve the problems in front of us?

Maybe the businesses that survive won’t just be the ones with the best coffee. Maybe they will be the ones that think differently, adapt quickly and understand what actually matters. The innovators, the hustlers, the people willing to question old assumptions.

And maybe consumers will need to question a few things too. Maybe part of the next rebellion is learning to value coffee differently — not just as a cheap daily habit, but as something shaped by people, skill, risk, cost, climate, labour and care.

Maybe the next wave of coffee anarchy isn’t only behind the machine, in the roastery or at origin. Maybe it also happens in the way people choose, value and think about coffee.

And maybe, once again, a few anarchists will emerge. Maybe this blog becomes a place to document some of that. Maybe it becomes somewhere to ask questions, throw ideas around and see what sticks. Maybe it becomes something else entirely.

I don’t really know yet. And that’s part of the point.

What matters now? What have we overcomplicated? What should we protect? What should we challenge? And where does coffee need a little more anarchy again?

If you’re a barista, cafe owner, roaster or simply someone who enjoys coffee, I hope you’ll find something useful here.

And if nothing else, perhaps you’ll leave with a different perspective than the one you arrived with. Maybe the same will be true for me too.

Welcome.