Grinds and Gravel: Cooperative Coffee

I remember my first time getting to the shop. It was a typical winter morning in Asheville: grey, cold, and harsh. I’d just moved to the city from Florida and was still getting used to temperatures below 60 and a lack of sunlight. I needed to see other human beings, even if it was just in the presence of surface-level conversations.

Though the inside wasn’t open to the general public, Luis Espel let me in. We met through bikes when we both lived in Florida, and he half-inspired my move to Asheville after hosting me in the spring of 2024. He’s Cooperative Coffee’s first-ever shop manager and has stayed on through the devastation brought by Hurricane Helene. They’d closed the inside because the damage to the city made it infeasible to host people indoors. Though the space had remained largely untouched, they were using portable water jugs for all the shop’s operations because the city’s water system was still recovering. As a result, they were serving customers at the cafe’s windows until some sense of normalcy returned.

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As I sat with Luis and a few other friends at a table inside, smiling faces came up to the open windows. Some sauntered over for a cup or a bag of coffee. Some just came by to say hello. Only a few months on from Helene, it was a sensitive time. The mandatory boil order had only just been lifted. Nearby highways were still being repaired. Large portions of the Blue Ridge Parkway were closed. This was what was left of the cataclysm caused by a “perfect” storm. People trying to get on with their lives, finding whatever joy they could in the vestiges of the third spaces that remained.

Cooperative Coffee

That somber morning wasn’t the first time I’d tasted Cooperative’s coffee, though. An established roaster in the area for over five years, it has become a major player in Western North Carolina. Thanks to the dedication of owners Matt and Katie McDaniel—along with their production and new cafe team—they’re the go-to local, high-quality roaster. If you’ve been to a bakery or multi-roaster shop in the region, there’s a strong chance that you’ve had a cup of Cooperative. Having moved to a new, larger space in the heart of West Asheville in early 2024, it seemed only logical to expand on their success and establish their own retail presence.

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Cooperative falls under the umbrella of a third-wave shop. Sourcing coffees from farmers and collectives that fall outside the commodity coffee market, they partner directly with producers. It’s a complex topic, but it means that the coffee is of a higher quality, the product is more transparent and ethically produced, and all aspects of the supply chain are more fairly compensated than in the commodity coffee space. All specialty coffee is graded and must receive a score of at least 80/100. In addition, unique drying processes are often applied to coffee beans, resulting in a more interesting, complex final product. Cooperative has several great coffees that span diverse tasting notes and origins, and all of them are the result of the specialty coffee trade.

Like any shop, the parts make up the whole. During his time in Tampa, Luis ran a weekly, entry-level, no-drop group ride dubbed “Slonuts” to introduce others to his love of both cycling and community. Every week, they’d ride, get doughnuts, and enjoy each other’s presence. It has served as the basis for more relationships than he can count and is a longstanding tradition.

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When he moved to Asheville in early 2024, Luis sought to build the same sense of warm, inviting community he’d created in Tampa. Through his years of experience as a coffee professional, he’s presented the perfect fit for Cooperative’s shop manager role. By extension, he’s brought an ever-growing horde of cyclists to the shop through the now-migrated Slonuts. As luck would have it, Hole, a local made-to-order doughnut shop, has a location just next door. With Luis on the team, Cooperative hosts this weekly tradition. Starting at the shop and ending no more than 50 yards away, it’s a radical experiment in going slow. Taking off every Monday at 8:30 a.m., Slonuts ambles about the city for a few hours, rain or shine, snow or sweltering heat. No drops, no matter what.

Slonuts

Every week, the route changes. Venturing slowly up Asheville’s numerous, steep, iconic climbs, it’s never too far from entirely doable for the most entry-level cyclists. Due to his own obligations, Luis isn’t always able to lead the “nutters” around town. Friend, former Floridian, and co-founder McKenzie Claire also leads rides, along with a slew of consistent characters that are more than happy to lend their legs and friendly faces. To say it’s a group effort would be underselling it. Kenzie has also technically worked for the shop, as the signage is a result of her hand. Moraes is a barista and, whenever possible, a ride leader along with Ana, PJ, Joe—the list goes on. They’re all colors in the polychromatic cornucopia of the picture that is Slonuts. A group of people who actively engage with the concept behind the ride.

Though the loose 10-mile, sub-1,000-foot gain maximum limits the amount of exciting terrain they can hit, a common spot they venture to is one you may have caught a glimpse of in my time at the site. Cresting one of Asheville’s smallest mountains—Lookout, the observatory, the top of UNCA woods—whatever you call it, it’s the area I most closely associate with the ride. A small climb, but a climb nonetheless, it serves as a physical example of what I believe Luis looks to do: Meet people where they are, encourage them gently, show them what they can achieve, and foster a sense of further accomplishment.

Grinds

For this edition of Grinds and Gravel, I took Cooperative’s Nicaraguan single-origin out for a spin atop that very same mountain. A washed coffee, it’s consistent with the brand’s philosophy around coffee processing. These days, many producers and shops are pushing coffees with complex processes like co-fermentation, which significantly alter the final product. It’s not all bad, and these are more my own opinions than anything said by those at Cooperative, but simple, high-quality coffee is ultimately where my interests lie. Allowing a roast to develop over time and age as it degasses for a month or more is part of the joy I get from bringing a bag home, and the same is true here.

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I found Las Segovias consistent with the baking-spice notes on the bag. Strong, palatable cinnamon and nutmeg were present in my inversion-brew AeroPress recipe, and it made for a great cup as I looked south toward the Pisgah National Forest. As I sipped the coffee and peered over the sunrise at Lookout, I thought about all the memories I’d had at that spot and beyond.

Because most of my Monday mornings are spent at a computer, I’m only able to join Slonut’s less frequent ventures beyond their 10-mile remit. Tour de Taco is an annual spring ride that Luis organizes to hit every good taco spot in the city. Last fall, Luis started putting together small, approachable bikepacking trips with some of the more consistent attendees of the weekly ride—a perfect opportunity for more enticing adventures. Overnighters and more memorable rides might not be the scope of their weekly meeting, but it’s where those ideas, concepts, and relationships begin to bloom. For me, it all started in this spot, and having this coffee here felt special.

Gravel, and Going Slo

As I attended one of Cooperative’s weekly public cuppings, I listened to Matt speak about the shop’s relationships with their production partners. About their beliefs on why those relationships matter, and why they cup weekly, public or not, to keep a close eye on their extensive line of coffees. I’ve attended more cuppings than I care to admit, and while it didn’t reveal anything revolutionary, it underlined why I care about coffee, bikes, and community.

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The typical response when speaking about the complexities of coffee is an eye roll. I get it. Coffee bros have ruined the romanticism of specialty coffee by dominating casual throw-downs, slurping loudly at cuppings, and suggesting your oat milk latte is somehow inferior to whatever honey-process Ethiopian they’re sipping on. But that arrogance exemplifies the worst form of any interest. Someone with deep knowledge of a topic should use that experience to invite others into that space so they can share in its complexities. Though not always successful, that’s what I’ve tried to push across in bikes with some of my opinion pieces. It’s not an intentional form of gatekeeping. It’s an authentic and earnest desire to share what I think is a valuable perspective.

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In my most recent opinion piece, I spoke to why accessible bike design is important and how it has shaped my experience as a cyclist. While some agreed, others suggested that they didn’t necessarily have the same interest in wrenching. It’s completely valid to drop off their bike at a shop and simply ride. I agree, think bike shops are valuable, and don’t want to deride anyone’s experience of cycling. But as I cupped the coffees I’d been passively consuming over the last few years at bakeries and visits to the shop, I thought about my developing relationship with everyone there. I thought about Matt and Katie and how they were among the first smiling faces who welcomed me to Asheville in those early, cold, unfamiliar months. I thought about how the shop has gone from a few, colorless walls devoid of much meaning, to a bright palette housing laughs, tough moments, and the beginnings of so many relationships. I thought about Luis and the incredible experiences he’s fomented by extending himself to make sure others feel welcome.

Do those feelings materially alter what’s in the cup? Do they change the composition of what’s extracted? No. But I’d venture to say that any sense of intimacy alters our experience. Getting to know who’s responsible for what you’re consuming, how hard they worked to get it to you, and the passion they feel for that process changes your experience of it. In the same way that knowing how my shifters work (and how to fix them) or getting a casual, slow ride in with your community changes your experience of bikes, the city in which you live, and the streets you all occupy, there’s value in knowing. And there’s value in Cooperative.

Further Reading

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