The Toolshed Roast

This morning we looked at our coffee supply and realized we were down to just one more morning's worth of beans.  That means that, in the midst of all the rest, it's time to roll out the roaster again and roast, at least for ourselves.  It's been a funny discovery in this summer (and now fall) of moving, that the roaster, the process of roasting, even in new and less than ideal locations, has been a familiar and comforting thing.  It makes a place, whether it is an awkward summer-rental apartment or a tool room off of a garage, feel a bit more like home. It has been good to do something that feels familiar and normal, and have it go well. 

The last roast we did, we offered mail batches to our past supporters, and mailed out boxes right before heading to New York.  That was our first roast at the farm on Sundown, and it was a bit of a celebration of finding our new place.  We called it the Toolshed Roast, and included some of the story from the very first nights of our arrival there.  This is the text and image from the label:

When we tell friends and new neighbors that we have moved to the small farm on Sundown Road, we don't generally let on that at the moment we are actually living in a toolshed. It's cozier than you might think, but we can't recommend it for everyone--cooking off a propane stove outside, carrying water in five gallon jugs, running our fruit dryer off borrowed power, the continual sweeping from the dry yard which the animals track through our various zones from the outdoor kitchen into the sitting area and bedroom corner. The proximity to horses is another matter. On a recent evening after dinner with neighbors, we followed the path through the pasture back home, only to find ourselves surrounded by horses. With one hand on the dog, and another on the horses, we just had to talk our way through the matter, both softly and strongly.

This roast is just like that, soft and strong, from our friends in Papua New Guinea, who dig down, working with the community to build up their own farm, really from the soil up, just the way we work here in Missoula, Montana. So, to celebrate our temporary living situation, until we move into a real farmhouse, the toolshed roast is good for simple work, or when you need a bit more. It's been tested over coffee with neighbors, running meetings, designing our new chicken coop, and talking to horses.