Boulder brew

After spending Friday night doing laundry- and writing about it- I must admit that I felt just a bit guilty. Guilty: one, for my uncharacteristic social apathy; and two, for not exploring the food and drink of an incredibly food-talented city.

My remedy? Start with coffee. Trade in the living room desk for a local coffee shop to do weekend studying. I poll all of the two people I know outside of class and decide to try Ozo. Ozo is a local coffee roaster company with two joints in town so I pick the one downtown. It’s an easy walk from my condo. And their website had a picture of a beautiful cappuccino.

Yep, we eat- and drink- first with our eyes, and that’s what sold me. Not the north facing or south facing patio, or the ratio of hippies to athletes, or the lack of hungover CU kids… all perfectly legitimate ways to decide on a coffee bar. It was the photo of the cappuccino.

And the cappuccino did not disappoint. It was probably the closest I’ve tasted to ones in Italy and every bit as artistically poured. I had a few. As well as some small talk with the barista. But mostly, I studied. And the walk home felt slightly less guilty.

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