Ode to the coffee shack

When I moved to the Seattle area - that cradle of coffee civilization that gave rise to the Starbucks empire - last February, I noticed that two things changed in my life almost immediately: I required significantly more water-wicking clothing, and I stopped drinking Starbucks. Stopped. Cold turkey. Why, you might ask? Because for the first time in my life I was utterly surrounded - on all sides and at every corner - by people who made coffee a hell of a lot better than anything Starbucks ever deigned to produce.

I had become acquainted with the coffee shack.

As far as I can tell, the coffee shack is a phenomenon exclusive to the general vicinity of the Pacific Northwest. I certainly have never seen them in such quantity anywhere else in the United States. They are legion here; small shacks with drive-in windows on both sides and no interior customer service space, existing solely to resupply the moist denizens of the local area with well-brewed caffeine injections at regular intervals. Although these shacks lack the atmosphere of your local Starbucks, they more than make up for it with the sheer variety that they afford. There are dozens of syrup flavors to choose from to spice up your lowly latte, from banana to coconut. And, should you decide that syrup would only unnecessarily muddy your brew, you're in luck - the coffee actually tastes good without it. And all this at prices that are generally 50 cents or more less than the comparable drink in the same size from Starbucks.

I love me some coffee shack. They are kitschy-good on-the-go fun and most seem to be locally owned. Just talking about it I've got a jones for a coconut latte.