GCS

Ang kwento

A house that happens to sell coffee

Why barako

Batangas liberica — barako — nearly disappeared. Coffee rust wiped out most of the province's trees in the 1890s, and what replaced them was easier to grow and easier to sell. The varietal survived in small holdings, mostly because families kept drinking it.

It does not taste like the coffee most cafés serve, and we are not going to pretend otherwise. It is heavier, a little smoky, and it does not need much help. If you have only had it at a carinderia, out of a glass, that was probably the real thing.

A kitten asleep under a printed blanket on a bed.
The newest hire.

How we roast

Green beans come from three farms within an hour of here. We roast in the back room, in small batches, and we sell it the same week — which is the whole reason we roast at all rather than buying it done.

Nothing is aged, blended, or held back. If a batch is gone, it is gone until the next one.

The house cat curled up on a visitor's lap.
Taking a break with a regular.

The room

We wanted it to feel like the room a grandmother keeps her kettle in — one lamp, one long table, and no hurry.

There is no minimum spend and nobody will ask you to leave. Students study here. People bring their parents. The courtyard is loud on Saturdays and quiet by four.

A hand under the house cat, which is stretched out on a wooden floor.
Hands full.

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