the FREEDOM of ESPRESSO

The first time we drove into Waitsburg, I knew there was something missing on Main Street.

Someone in Walla Walla had recommended the Whoop ' Em Up Hollow Café for dinner, and once downtown, we discovered Waitsburg also had a charming hardware store, a great bar, a friendly pub and even a homegrown brewery.

But we could find no place to get espresso.

Other than John and Marilyn Stellwagen's table at the Waitsburg Hardware and Mercantile, there was no place to get together during the day, there was no place to get decent lattes, pastries, soups, salads or ice cream or sit around and check emails via wifi.

With all its other attractions and its visual appeal, Waitsburg was crying out for a coffee shop.

So imagine my surprise when I first sat down with Loyal Baker less than a year later to discuss the possible sale of the Times and I learned the business came with two buildings.

One of them, the Mock Building at 137 Main Street right across from the stop sign at the end of Highway 124, would be a perfect location for a coffee shop. We could fulfill two dreams at once: run our own newspaper and start a café next door. We couldn't picture a better combination.

Just think: we'd be building on a tradition that started in Constantinople in 1475, when the world's first coffee house, Kiv Han, opened.

It was such a hit, the city soon had hundreds of coffee shops where patrons listened to music, played chess, caught up on the latest news, talked with travelers and story tellers - all while enjoying a new drink that had made its way from Ethiopia to the Arabian Peninsula and on to Turkey.

Why not create a rustic, romantic little refueling stop at the confluence of the Touchet and the Coppei, on the crossroads of highways 124 and 12, and on Lewis & Clark's historic exploration route near of the foothills of the Blues?

Well, it won't be long now. In the coming months, as we complete the overhaul of the Mock Building and pave the way for the installation of our espresso bar, ice cream counter, small kitchen, wifi lounge and more, the dream is on its way of becoming a reality.

Through this new, occasional column we call "The Freedom Of Espresso," I will provide you with regular updates on our progress and share our passion for good coffee plus everything that goes along with heart-warming nourishment.

Let me explain what coffee means to me.

I was born and raised in a country with one of Europe's longest coffee cultures.

Coffee first made its way from the Middle East to Venice and Vienna, but the Dutch soon got a taste for it and introduced its cultivation in their colonies, known then as the East Indies (Indonesia). By the mid 1600s, they dominated its trade, and Dutch society has been steeped in its simple pleasures and rituals ever since.

Coffee was an integral part of our daily lives when I grew up. The day started with a cup or two at home, then, no matter where you were, you'd have coffee mid to late morning.

Just like our mid- day break here is known as "lunch," our mid-morning break was known as "koffie." Things would come to a stop at the factory, the office, the police station, you name it.

This "koffie" break was a social moment. The idea of drinking coffee at your desk by yourself was unorthodox, frowned on as something only loners or workaholics do.

The coffee was always drip, thick and dark, served with an endless variety of cookies.

At least then, espresso was something you might have at a fancy restaurant. Even in that setting most Dutchies preferred to drink strong drip coffee to get a lift before heading home at night.

When I was settled here, my interest in coffee continued. One of the business beats I had at the Seattle Post- Intelligencer was the retail industry at a time when Starbucks was one of Seattle's fastest-growing retailers.

I covered its rapid expansion and the gourmet coffee world of which it was a part throughout the 1990s. I traveled to the south of Colombia to meet some of the coffee growers who were producing for Starbucks and made a trip to Kona to meet the founder of Millstone Coffee.

Visiting my parents and family back in the Netherlands, I would pay closer attention to the way coffee consumption was changing there and elsewhere in Europe.

For a while, I thought about starting a coffee-related business or writing a book about the subject, but I never did. Yet coffee has always intrigued me for its invigoration and its way of bringing people together, giving them the perfect excuse to share a point in time, stop the world from spinning or at least slow it down long enough to savor the aroma of steeped arabica grounds and string together all those memories of similar experiences that align themselves at that moment.

Next time: The Grand Plan