Latte Loyalty

Tracing my coffee journey from Texas to Chicago

During our Whatsapp calls, my grandma always asks me what I’ve eaten. Coffee is always on the list. 

“Not surprised,” she replies, “people would give you spoonfuls of it as a baby.”

Apparently, my bibs would end up with brown splatters of instant coffee on them.

In a Mexican household, you’ll always be offered a cup of coffee and a pastry no matter the time of day.

My aunt’s Las Vegas mugs became stainless steel Yetis when I went to high school. Students with dark circles under their eyes had tumblers full of iced coffee, preparing for college applications and final exams.

To my recollection, my first time trying coffee was at a morning volunteer event in 10th grade. I was telling the others that I’d never had it before. The next thing I knew I was being recorded on Snapchat dramatically taking a sip over a trash can in case I had to spit it out.

Looking back, that moment definitely was the gateway to my caffeine addiction.

I started being late to class almost everyday because I would get a fast food frappe, since coffee shop culture had not yet hit my small town in Texas. It became so bad that I would get detention every couple of weeks for excessive tardies.

It wasn’t until I moved to Austin that I started seeing businesses dedicated to selling coffee. From Merit to Barrett’s to Bennu, I tried every cafe I could during my four years at UT.

Before every shift at my part-time job, I’d always order an Iced Oat Latte with Honey.

When I moved back to the Rio Grande Valley trying to land a full-time job, I thought I’d have to go back to getting Dunkin cold brews.

To my surprise, there were cafes popping up all over Brownsville, Texas. I proudly gave my money to Latino-owned coffee shops like Nerve and 956 Coffee in exchange for a rich iced latte. When I go back for the holidays, the baristas still ask me if I want my usual.

I’m so spoiled now that I live in Chicago. If I had to guess, I've tried around 50 or more coffee shops. That’s not even scratching the surface, since it feels like there’s cafes at every corner.

Drip Collective in the West Loop.

Anticonquista Cafe on 18th Street.

Loba Coffee off the Addison Brown Line Stop

Even if it’s snowing, I’ll always order an iced latte or cold brew.

After a sip, I’ll remember spending hours laughing with friends at Nerve. 

After another sip, I’ll remember drinking a cold brew in a parking lot during a global pandemic.

After another sip, I’ll remember drinking the best hot coffee from a Winnie The Pooh mug at my grandma’s house.