Rhonda's love for coffee began as a teenager when she was introduced to it at the Dutch Kitchen, the restaurant where she got her first paying job as a dishwasher and then a waitress. Then she discovered the delights of fresh-ground coffee versus “the other stuff,” and she hasn’t looked back since. Her favorite, she says, is Jamaican Me Crazy.
She adores coffee shops, fleeing to a certain one on the corner of Main and Six three mornings a week. There, in her “favorite place in the world to create,” she finds inspiration for her weekly column, writing, she notes, “under the influence” of coffee and the Holy Spirit.
With its high, pressed-tin ceilings and old brick walls, creativity flows. She finds it refreshing, she says, that “no one there needs their noses wiped or their food cut up. No one that I’m responsible for, anyway.” There's no laundry there, either, and she can actually entertain two consecutive thoughts without interruption.
Locals know which is “her spot,” and they wave and smile, stopping by her table for quick hello’s. Friendly baristas greet her by name, pulling out a mug and ice water, knowing in advance what she wants. It really is her hometown version of “Cheers,” sans spirits, “Where everybody knows your name.” And they’re always glad you came.