No-Frills Java in Long Grove

I cannot tell a lie.  I like a grande Macchiato with skim milk on occasion.  Me and Starbucks?  We're pretty cool with each other.  I buy its beverages, it gives me a caffeine boost.  But once in a while, a change is nice.

Was coffee cool before Starbucks?  I mean, how did people take their caffeinated beverages before they could get a Venti double-shot, no-whip frappa-cappa-thingy?  Just coffee?  Just espresso?  Bah!  As if.

Believe it or not, there was a time before "good coffee" and "$5 coffee" were synonymous.  And the baristas weren't called baristas.  And everyone lived happily.

Places like Beans & Leaves in Long Grove, Illinois, are growing more and more rare.  All we wanted was a cold drink.  The tavern down the street was out as an option (none of us felt like purchasing a brew), and Long Grove tends to discourage the intrusion of the chain restaurant (or coffee shop, or anything for that matter), so there was no Starbucks to patronize (no Starbucks?  Oh, the humanity!).

Quite frankly, we stumbled upon Beans & Leaves after learning (much to our disappointment) that long-time Long Grove business Apple Haus was out of business (and, as such, we were unable to enjoy some cold cider and donuts).

It seemed like we stood there, looking around aimlessly, for an age before we spotted the coffee shop.  We later learned that it's been in business for eight years.  It's a little tough to see, nestled in between the Long Grove Popcorn Shoppe and what will soon be the former Red Oak Furniture Gallery.

We walked in to find a shop that was essentially silent, and empty.  The barista, if you will (she is not a barista, by the way.  Just thought I'd put it in language that people could understand), was straightening up some of the coffee shop kitsch that makes this place way more fun to be in than a Starbucks.

The "Tea Room" at Beans & Leaves in Long Grove, IL.

A row of local musicians' photos adorns the front wall of the shop, and an acoustic guitar in the designated "Tea Room" bears the signatures of many, likely people who have played their coffeehouse gigs at Beans & Leaves.  There are innumerable tin signs on and around the counter, with coffee-related phrases, beckoning, imploring the errant visitor to sit down and have a cup.

Ordering is casual.  No frenetic java-shop shorthand here.  If you would like a medium-sized latte with skim milk, then you say it.  To quote the nice lady who made me my drink, "This is not Starbucks.  Don't talk to me in Starbucks lingo."  For the record, I didn't.  This was part of a conversation we were having long after we received our lattes.  I digress.

My iced latte (front), and my sister's Arnold Palmer (back).

When you order, your coffee is made in front of you.  The espresso for my iced latte was brewed before my eyes and dumped into a cup of ice and milk (skim or 2%), then the lid was put on and it was handed to me.  And then I paid.  And then I relaxed.

There are no couches, no bar stools.  Just some rickety-looking tables and metal-framed chairs like you'd find in an old ice cream shop.  There are store-copy books to peruse while you sip, titles by Isaac Asimov, Michael Crichton, and James A. Michener.


It was quiet when we went there.  We were the only ones in the shop for most of the time we were there.  This presented us with an opportunity rarely encountered at a chain coffee shop.  We had a conversation with the person that served us coffee.  Shocking, I know, but it turns out the people that work at little shops like this can be far more personable (and far less preoccupied) than those at the chains.  And we learned an awful lot.

As it turns out, the store in which Beans & Leaves is situated was the site of the first Gloria Jean's coffee shop.  It had been one coffee shop or another for about 30 years, and it had been Beans & Leaves for the past eight.

The coffee is no-nonsense.  The atmosphere is no-frills.  And the two-dollar cookies are actually worth the two dollars you pay for them (I'd recommend the oatmeal butterscotch).  And though the coffee isn't too much less expensive than its chain-coffee counterparts, it's worth every cent to me if it means supporting a small business in a town where far too many small businesses are being forced to close.

In the words of our personable coffeemaker, "Come here, I'll make you a decent cup of coffee."

Decent is being modest.

~AF