Baristas, beware: Jarvis the Robot is coming for your job

BEST PUPS ON CUPS

Jaclyn Leedy has always loved dogs. For the past five years, the longtime Oregonian volunteered with Free State Four Paws, an Alabama-based dog rescue located in a county without a shelter. The more involved she got, the more she felt the need to help. She got an idea for spreading awareness through a warm, comforting moment: your morning cup of coffee. “I knew I wanted to get adoption stories on coffee bags,” Leedy says. “It’s a canvas you can use for change. Maybe you have that bag in your kitchen for a week, maybe months. Every time you see that bag, you’re taking in that label.” Leedy and her partner, Mark Wilcox, launched Mutt’s Co ee (muttscoffee.com) in November 2020, offering premium roasted coffee beans by the bag, each featuring the face and story of an adopted dog from Free State Four Paws, with 25% of profits going to the organization. Their online store now ships nationwide, and their cold brew stand is an institution at several Portland-area farmers markets. She estimates they’ve donated over $1,000 so far, and that number is sure to grow— the coffee is quite good. “It’s not cheap coffee with good dog stories,” Leedy says. “It’s good coffee with good dog stories.” LAUREN YOSHIKO.

BEST ROBOT BARISTA

For those interested in currying favor with the robot overlords—before their inevitable domination of our ineffi cient, feelings-based society—consider sucking up to Jarvis, the robot barista at Muji (621 SW 5th Ave.). Simply by purchasing an iced chai latte through the Blue Hill Robot Coffee app, you’ll be advancing the pursuits of the artificial intelligence machine learning that taught Jarvis how to churn out cappuccinos, mochas and lattes with delicate, machine-perfect milk foam art. Jarvis coffee robots can be found at two other coffee shops in Portland, J Coffee and Swee2o, but Muji—the store where settling for what’s functional is its entire mission statement—really does feel like the best place for the AI revolution to begin. After all, Jarvis learned to make those delicious drinks by observing actual human baristas. What else could Jarvis observe? Schematics? Passwords? Human frailty and unworthiness? The machines can do it perfectly now! The espresso was a little bitter. SUZETTE SMITH.

COURTESY OF PALS MUSHROOMS

BEST BLUE OYSTER CULT

After 25 years driving taxis, slinging drinks and playing drums around Portland, Holly Morgan realized she needed to come up with some sort of retirement plan. Then it dawned on her: mushrooms. A story of mushroom crops grown and bike-delivered by unemployed New Zealand miners inspired Morgan to enroll in Mercy Corps business classes, travel downstate for cultivation workshops and, toward the end of 2018, purchase a dilapidated mushroom farm in a former St. Johns shipyard, which she rechristened Pals Mushrooms (palsmushrooms.com). “It’s a pretty magical slice of the oldschool Portland I didn’t think still existed,” she says of the space, “but, basically, I had bought a broken-down jalopy. I had to literally reboot the farm a dozen times and completely start over just because crazy things kept happening.” Nevertheless, in little more than a year, Morgan had Pals’ signature blue oyster mushrooms on the menu at some of Portland’s most beloved foodie meccas, including Beast, Urban Farmer and Sweedeedee. After the pandemic effectively shuttered the industry, she pivoted once again, tapping her 12-plus years of experience as a driver for Radio Cab and shifting to home delivery. “Honestly,” she says, “my knowledge of the streets saved the business.” Bringing as little as 1 pound to doorsteps anywhere within Portland city limits for a minimal charge, Morgan’s residential delivery program kept Pals afl oat through the elongated COVID shutdown. But when the local economy began to reawaken early this spring, she started shopping the business to fund a long-awaited return to Michigan. After showing the shipping containers to more than 30 interested parties, Morgan sold the farm to her neighbor, Kris Young. Morgan will stay on as part of the new collective, which plans to steadily add more members, though not species—the oyster, Young says, remains the company’s “bread and butter.” “They’re so meaty that I’ve actually had vegan customers tell me they felt weird and kind of guilty,” Morgan laughs. “I’ve had to reassure people that the mushrooms want to be eaten. Allow them the gift of nourishing you. You’re not hurting them. You’re fulfi lling their destiny.” JAY HORTON. As multiple groups bend over backward to convince Major League Baseball to move a team to Portland, one former pro ballplayer has already made his way here—to serve coffee. Last summer, Kevin Youkilis, who helped the Boston Red Sox win two World Series and earned the nickname “the Greek God of Walks,” opened Loma Co ee Co. (4229 SE Woodstock Ave.), a new cafe and roastery. It’s the latest venture for Youkilis, who retired from baseball in 2014 and has spent his post-playing career parlaying his beverage habits into successful businesses. “I never really imagined myself in coffee in any way,” says Youkilis, who previously opened craft brewery Loma Brewing with his brother in their hometown of Los Gatos, Calif., in 2016. “It was just figuring out the different varieties out there and being in a great area where there’s a lot of different roasters where I could do my research.” Loma Coffee became a reality after Youkilis, looking to open up a coffee bar at his brewpub, hooked up with Portland coffee fixture Brandon Smyth, co-founder of Water Avenue Coffee. Within months, the pair opened their storefront in Portland— in the middle of a pandemic and while the skies were hazy with wildfi re smoke. “It was not the easiest of times, in many ways,” Youkilis says, laughing. Things have been looking up for Loma Coffee. The business is doing well enough that it’s hiring extra help, and its beans will soon be available at Market of Choice locations around the state. The next step? Expansion. “We want to grow the brand and show off Brandon’s talents,” says Youkilis. “There’s no limits.” ROBERT HAM.

BEST UNITED FRONT

A week after the March shooting that took the lives of six Asian women in Atlanta, a handful of Portland Asian American and Pacifi c Islander restaurant owners met up to offer one another support. “We learned that first meeting that we’re all busting our asses—grinding, all going through the same thing, just in different parts of town,” says Aron Moxley, who was a member of the all Asian American band the Slants prior to slinging smoked banh mi from his Stabs pop-up. By the end of that inspiring, spontaneous meetup, the group committed to continuing to gather to share projects and challenges and process their unique experiences as Asian American business owners in Portland. They christened the newly formed group the Rice Bowl Posse (instagram.com/ricebowlposse). “It can be small things like posting or sharing stories about each other [or] supporting each other’s businesses by word of mouth,” says Jacky Ren of Bing Mi. “The five of us did a gift card raffle and raised $2,700 for some local and nationwide AAPI organizations. Then we did a second meeting, and a lot more small businesses joined—not only from the food industry.” Nearly 30 other AAPI business owners have reached out to join the Posse since its inception. Moving forward, the group aims to be a collaborative force that uplifts the local AAPI community and supports Portland’s BIPOC community in general. They’re currently working on a free meal plan delivery program to AAPI seniors in need and planning future in-person events. “These new friends I consider family and it’s amazing to have the thing we’ve needed all along: support,” Moxley says. “In our cultures, it’s tough to ask for help. Now it’s all around us.” LAUREN YOSHIKO.

MOVING FORWARD, THE GROUP AIMS TO BE A COLLABORATIVE FORCE THAT UPLIFTS THE LOCAL AAPI COMMUNITY AND SUPPORTS PORTLAND’S BIPOC COMMUNITY IN GENERAL.