An American Tale

It was an American story. Our drive along the ridge between the peninsula and the coast through the Santa Cruz mountain last evening landed us in the little town of Saratoga, which was where my niece Shelley was born. We have driven through it a couple of times, but have never stopped. It was 15-degrees warmer there then when we left our home on the coast and people were walking the main street enjoying the summer sun still warm well after dinner.

It is a main street of little coffee shops, small restaurants, fancy stores in a very quaint setting built into the foothills of the Santa Cruz mountains. We walked several blocks and found a cute little place for a cup of coffee. The coffee roaster was in the corner, homemade pies and gelato were in the display cases, a menu of sandwiches was above the counter (all the same price) and there was a feeling of cleanliness, very fresh food and youth. Everything was organic from the coffee to the pies. The outdoor seating was vast making it clear that this was a very popular business during the day.

We ordered from a tiny woman behind the counter, Michael could not resist the pecan pie with whipped cream to go with his decaf coffee and I tried a small taste of their sorbet. Delicious. We took our treats outside on the side patio and fell in love. The fresh brewed organic coffee was deliciously mellow yet rich and went perfectly with Michael's pie, which was covered in fresh whipped cream and not sicky sweet like most pecan pies. The crust was nothing special until he realized that it was also not sweet and a perfect base for the filling. He moaned, always a good sign.

The woman who had waited on us walked outside to check the tables and paused to chat. We told her that it was our first time in Saratoga. It brought on a conversation during which we learned that she was from Peru. She had fled. She said that what made coming to America so great was just to have an opportunity to succeed. She said it is the only country in the world that welcomes the poor. In Peru, a new person would be treated with suspicion and never fully welcomed unless they had money, then all would be fine. But, not for the poor. That is what drew her to this country.

She and her husband had two children. Her daughter is a Stanford grad currently in medical school in Memphis (she followed a boyfriend) and her son is finishing up a philosophy degree in Long Beach on his way to law school. She said she pushed and taught her children never to pass up any opportunity this country had to offer. And they didn't.

She and her husband bought the business a few years ago and soon realized they made a mistake. There were many, many coffee shops up and down the main street and they were failing. Their daughter phoned and told her mom that she had to make their coffee shop different from the rest. She told her to go organic. Organic everything including coffee. They even offer Kopi Luwak made from...I'll let you figure it out. She also hired high school kids who brought their friends in. That made the place feel young and hip. That brought in the money.

As we were leaving, she mentioned that she is really doing it alone now as her husband is ill. Liver and colon cancer. With her strength, I am sure he is getting the best of care and will recover. It was a pleasure to spend a bit of time with her.