From Berkeley to Beyond: How Peet’s Coffee Changed My Life
On my desk sits a cup of coffee—Peet’s coffee—in a mug decorated with Gauguin’s The Swineherd, Brittany. The pastoral image shines warmly, brightly. When I bought the mug back in 1993, I wanted it to reflect my personality—or at least how I felt after my first pot of coffee. Most of what I drink these days is decaf, but in 1993, I went through nearly two pots of Peet’s a day. After two pots of Peet’s, anyone would feel bright and cheery.
My first taste of coffee came in high school. I used to hang out with friends at a local hamburger place near campus. Every morning, I’d catch the bus, transfer once, and end up a few blocks from school. We’d wander through the nearby shopping mall, wasting time before class. One morning, I saw a friend sipping coffee. “You drink coffee?” I asked. “Sure,” she said. “It’s good with sugar and cream. Let me show you.” That first cup hooked me instantly.
Long before chain restaurants offered bottomless cups of caffeinated sugar water, diners served endless refills of bitter, greasy coffee. When I was in college, I’d grab breakfast or lunch at a small diner down the street. As long as I stayed at the counter, the waitress kept my cup full. “Another cup, darlin’?” she’d say. I thought it was a fabulous deal—completely unaware of just how wired I’d become.
Later, I discovered Istanbul Express, a small shop at Sather Gate Mall near Telegraph Avenue. They roasted beans on-site, weighed them, and sealed them in brown paper bags. I’d never seen coffee come in anything but a can. There was no Starbucks in Berkeley at the time and I hadn’t heard of Peet’s. At $4.75 a pound, their coffee felt like a splurge, but I made room in my meager student budget for it. I was hooked on the taste of freshly brewed coffee.
After graduation, I moved to the north side of Berkeley. One day, I wandered into the original Peet’s at Walnut Square and ordered a cup. No, actually, a revelation. Warm, caramel-sweet, rich, and deep. I had found the perfect cup of coffee.
If it weren’t for Alfred Peet, there might never have been a Starbucks—or at least not the one we know. The first Peet’s opened in North Berkeley in 1966, five years before Starbucks appeared at Pike Place Market in Seattle. When Starbucks launched, its coffee was roasted by Peet’s. Let that sink in: Starbucks coffee was roasted by Peet’s. Starbucks owes what remains of its quality to Alfred Peet and his passion for the perfect cup.
My bright, cheery mug of Peet’s coffee has sat on many desks—in the Philippines, in New Jersey, and in California. Much of my life has been a journey, and few paths have led to enlightenment. But that one moment after college did. I learned that one person’s passion can change the world. For me, that person was Alfred Peet (1920–2007).
