The Daily Grind

Brewed coffee from my Nicaraguan roasted beans, Grandes Cosechas, featuring chocolate notes and a medium espresso roast. (Credit: Fernanda Sanchez)

From the moment I arrived in Fredericton, New Brunswick, I knew there was a coffee problem. Three and a half years later, I think I’ve solved it, but it has been its own adventure. I came here to study from Nicaragua, a country known for its high-quality coffee exports. In my house in Managua, we had roasted coffee grown in the north-central mountains that carried a natural sugar undertone into our cups.  

I couldn’t afford to buy a new coffee maker when I moved to my first apartment in Canada, and being used to quality coffee, I knew I had to do something to resemble the one I made at home. A French press marked the beginning of my coffee journey and deepened my appreciation for the art of brewing. I bought my first French press on Facebook Marketplace for $10 from a girl who unknowingly helped me prepare for my first move alone. It was small and brewed the perfect amount I needed: two cups of coffee.   

Every morning when I woke up, I reached for the roasted coffee that my mom had packed in my suitcase. It was 100 per cent Nicaraguan-grown Arabica coffee. I would pour half of the two-kilogram bag into a glass jar I bought from Dollarama.

I still remember the steps to make coffee in my French press. First, I added two spoonfuls of ground coffee to the empty French press, then poured hot water over the grounds to saturate them, filling the press a little over halfway. I hadn’t figured out the perfect ratio yet, but with time, I developed a sixth sense. And sometimes, I modified my ratio for the days I needed my coffee a little stronger. I let it “bloom” for one minute before stirring the grounds with a spoon. Then I would place the lid on the press and let the coffee steep for another minute or two. Finally, I channelled all my excitement into a slow, steady press all the way down.   

The first sip was my favourite, rich and exciting in a way that slowed everything down. I was the only one awake in our four-bedroom apartment. It was just me and my coffee. Still, something was missing.  

Coffee culture has never felt more important. As technology takes over our social interactions and everyday routines, coffee remains one of the few bridges that still connect us — a ritual that strengthens the sense of community we’ve lost along the path of doom-scrolling. Instead of letting our thoughts and daily frustrations spark real conversations, we now express them through typing and silence. I worry this silence might cost us the local coffee culture altogether.  

Local coffee is louder; it allows us to become aware of the coffee we drink, the story behind it, and everything that went into that morning latte, instead of letting it pass by unnoticed.  

So, I’ve been searching for new local coffee shops. My latest find is a coffee roaster with a unique name, but it shares a genuine love for specialty coffee, just like I do.  

In his basement, Jean-François Jutras, the founder of Duck Duck Coffee Roasters, has a Valenta electric fluid-bed coffee roaster working away, bringing specialty coffee to his customers in a way that feels more accessible and creative.   

Jutras turned his newly discovered hobby into a growing business rooted in community-driven coffee, eventually becoming the head of a micro-roastery based in Fredericton, New Brunswick. His beginning was just as humble as mine, buying a broken espresso machine from Facebook Marketplace during COVID-19, which also marked his coffee journey.   

Duck Duck's powerhouse is a Valenta 7, 3kg coffee roaster, also known as "The Quackenator." (Submitted by Alex Kwok)

Jutras opened in late 2020, sourcing his beans from countries such as Brazil, Ethiopia, Guatemala and beyond, partnering with suppliers and working with farms that support fair wages and ethical practices.   

“I never drank coffee before,” Jutras said. “[The espresso machine] was pretty expensive, and I fixed it. When I was trying to fix it, I went through a lot of coffee, which frustrated me. Once I started getting into coffee through that method, I explored roasting.”  

Preparing coffee for others has become one of my favourite activities, as well as sharing newly learned fun facts about flavour profile and undertones. Sitting down to drink a cup of coffee with friends is a nice breather amid an unrestful world.   

Instead of sharing that experience for free, Jutras decided to turn it into a profit and sell the coffee he roasted, since the cost of roasting had become expensive over the years. And in doing so, he incorporated community and family-focused components into his business.   

The name Duck Duck Coffee was inspired by a game he played with his twin girls, “Duck, Duck, Goose.” He saw the opportunity to share his product with family and friends and didn’t hesitate, expanding the community of home roasters in Fredericton.  

Alex Kwok (left) and Jean-François Jutras (right) have worked with Duck Duck Coffee Roasters since 2020. (Submitted by Alex Kwok)

 “I quickly realized where Duck Duck fit, because I want to do specialized coffee,” Jutras said. “Generally speaking, on the East Coast, it's pretty novel …  and I knew that there was gonna be a lot of effort to convince people to like it, but I knew that I was doing something I enjoyed.”  

In a province where coffee culture is dominated by chains like Tim Hortons and Starbucks, Jutras wasn’t interested in competing with those franchises. His interest was what his customers loved: that first slow Sunday sip or fuel for their busy days.   

“People will always want to have Tim Hortons, and that's okay. I'm not trying to sell for that demographic,” Jutras said. 

I can almost remember the first time I took a sip of a Tim Horton’s small Americano. It was August 2022, and my mom and I had officially become members of Air Canada’s lost baggage club. After 72 hours of travel, dark circles under our eyes, and a “whatever happens, happens” mentality, we looked at each other and knew we needed one thing amid the chaos — coffee.  

As I entered the brightly lit building on campus, I noticed the red and white sign — it had to be a knock-off version of Starbucks, I thought.  

The sign read “Tim Hortons,” and I wondered, who in the world is Tim Hortons? My mom and I looked at each other again, realizing our need for coffee was far greater than the unanswered questions Canada kept throwing at us.  

“Can I have a small Americano, please?” I said.  

“Just black?” the cashier asked, her tone surprised.  

I felt she was judging my 18-year-old naiveté but also admiring my boldness in ordering a Tim Hortons coffee with no artificial flavours. Now I know she was warning me about what came next. It was a bitter, sour, burnt taste. It took me five minutes to settle into my disappointment. After six minutes, the coffee became undrinkable. 

I was stuck here with Tim Hortons, also known as the coffee killer. Little did I know I would be stuck with the coffee killer for three years, and the same order, a small Americano, served with a slight judgmental tone on the side.   

Caring about coffee is an acquired practice. You never realize you’ve tasted good coffee until you no longer have access to it. The subtle undertones, flavours, and aromas become overpowered by refined sugar, syrups, and cold foams. In a country where Starbucks and Tim Hortons are the go-to choices, my love for good coffee lies between enjoying a cup at your local café and brewing one at home.  

People overlook the amount of work that goes into a regular order at Starbucks.   

The familiar smell greets you when you step in, and the green of their logo conveys trust and sustainability. The espresso machine hums, and the baristas are calling out strangers’ names. And you no longer feel alone in the hustle and bustle of a Wednesday morning. You are handed a latte that was over $8, and you think it’s a small price in exchange for your punctuality. But behind that cup are farmers, sustainable practices, fair wages, and complex coffee-sourcing networks. Starbucks stands in the blurry space between fair-trade certification and exploitation. That latte represents a weak approach to workers’ rights and minimal support for local communities.  

I was 14 years old when I first visited a coffee plantation. It was cold and windy, and my tolerance for cold weather was nonexistent. I didn’t go there by choice. I was stuck on a family trip.   

Apparently, being a tourist of your own country had to be on my being-a-good-citizen list. Living in the tropics never sparked curiosity in me until I moved to Canada. I knew the coffee exported from Nicaragua was good, I knew people liked it, and I knew it was unique. In other words, I took my own coffee for granted.   

One of the advantages of living in the Pacific is the numerous beaches within a 45-minute drive. All my life, that was it: warmth, sand, sun, repeat. It wasn’t until I adventured with my family through the city of Matagalpa, Nicaragua’s mitochondria of coffee, that I immersed myself in the coffee biosphere.  

Matagalpa is situated in the central mountainous region of Nicaragua, and its damp, misty air befriends the coffee-growing land. Amid the mountains, coffee plants sprawl across fertile hills, their green leaves sheltering the seeds. Farmers travel up the mountain on wooden wagons, wearing earthy tone raincoats and worn-out caps.   

I hiked through the forest and stepped on humid grounds. I saw the coffee farms firsthand and watched my mom pick coffee seeds like a child picking out her favourite toy. My family and I shared an experience that went beyond drinking a cup of coffee; we absorbed the coffee-flavoured northern jungle and respected the farm work. I remember my dad speaking about agriculture techniques in the highlands to preserve biodiversity, types of harvesters, and the honourable work of the farmers who cultivate and source coffee.  

Surrounded by blooming plants, the central lake and cottages in the middle of the woods hosted other families like ours. My mom and little brother could not have been less curious. My dad and I, however, were transported. Black coffee was our language. We used to sit on the balcony with a steaming cup of coffee and a fascination for our homeland. Plants grow as we speak; the ruffling of leaves adds to our conversations and local tradition. We paired “rosquillas” (corn flour-shaped cookies) with our organic coffee.   

I did not understand the significance back then, but now I do. Coming from a developing country, I always witnessed different plantations and the hard work of farmers, especially since my dad always talked about the different farms he worked with for his job. And I never realized that was not the case for everybody. I grew up knowing that fair trading conditions are a right, not a privilege. Supporting local coffee companies that prioritize economic, social, and environmental well-being in their coffee sourcing can strengthen any community.   

From my country’s volcanic soil to Canada’s icy and freezing conditions, my pursuit to be a local coffee connoisseur carried on.  

This fall, I went to the Farmer’s Boyce Market and thought that if I could find one local coffee roaster who helped me understand the coffee culture in Fredericton, there must be another entrepreneur out there who shares my passion for coffee and isn’t afraid to share it with their community.   

Whether your go-to order is a plain Americano or an oat milk cappuccino with a double shot of espresso, the Whitney family will help you kick off the weekend with a unique touch of specialty coffee every Saturday morning.   

Just behind the Springbrook Cranberry booth, Whitney Coffee took over the back of the market, fueling the Saturday morning coffee ritual of hundreds of Fredericton locals.   

Upon entering the establishment, a sweet and nutty aroma filled the air, while the coffee cups of four middle-aged women bore witness to an anticipated weekend catch-up. Spider plants hung from the concrete pillars, and a brown-wooden sign with the title “The Whitney Coffee Company” hung above Ron Whitney while he poured freshly brewed coffee.   

The line moved fast, and Alex Whitney, Ron Whitney’s son, took clients’ orders like it was a marathon — time and coffee wait for no man. High-top tables were available for anyone who wanted a break from the fast-moving and crowded market. With less than a five-minute wait to get their order, customers glanced at the world map hanging on the wall as they sipped their Whitney Coffee.   

“Coffee brings people together,” said Ron Whitney. Since opening his business in 1996, he has brought fresh, whole beans from Asia, Africa, the Pacific Islands, and the Americas to the city of Fredericton.   

Through local coffee, he’s built a bridge with the community, helping his family-owned business serve customers' quality favourites while also offering exotic flavours that will not only fuel their morning but also broaden their palates.  

“We’re a family serving families,” Whitney said.  

“I fell in love with coffee … now I help new cafes open up, it’s nice to see new cafes thrive,” Whitney said. “I have 30 years of experience [in the coffee business], and I look to see them grow. I don't see them as competitors anymore.”  

There is an inevitable pattern: showcasing your coffee to the rest of the world not only brings the reward of profit but also the satisfaction of aligning your work with a passion that enriches your everyday life. Whitney’s passion for unveiling the hidden world of coffee is reflected in the diverse flavours he offers. In fact, he works with middlemen who help him source family-favourite beans, which often sell out fast.   

Not only does Whitney make his weekly appearance at the Boyce Farmers Market to save families from low-grade coffee, but he also supplies multiple cafes and restaurants in Fredericton, shaping the city’s coffee culture.   

Even though he does not have a fair-trade certification for Whitney Coffee, he still considers the business to be “socially responsible.” He makes a point to buy beans from suppliers that support equitable and sustainable procedures, such as promoting fairer prices and safer work conditions for farmers.   

“Everybody has the right to fair wages. No matter where you’re from,” Whitney said. He also prioritizes sourcing coffee from women producers, such as those who provide his Colombian beans.   

“[It’s] more expensive but reinforces what we believe in,” said Whitney, firm on his statement.  

By supporting both local and international coffee, Whitney has made his mark in Fredericton homes, while also creating a welcoming, family-oriented space for a more grounded and steadier cup of coffee.   

He has turned a caffeine-addictive experience in the Tim Hortons line into a crafted adventure that motivates his customers to take pleasure in tasting freshly roasted coffee.   

While the price of specialty coffee can be a barrier for some, over time, it is more affordable and eco-friendlier than buying a regular latte at Starbucks and drinking it from a disposable cup. And with flavours ranging from chocolate toffee richness to sweet, fruity notes of red grapes and honey, good coffee no longer needs to rely on sugar-filled, chemically charged syrups to taste good. For Jutras, flavour is one of the main pillars of his craft; the taste of coffee is one element he cherishes in his work.    

“I get to taste really good coffee. It's good quality. And part of that is I get to control that quality … I'm not roasting just to move products and make money, I get to roast to enjoy the craft,” Jutras said.   

Jutras is very specific about selecting his coffee beans, especially through suppliers who have established trusted relationships with farmers and farms that receive fair compensation.    

“I decided purposely not to supply from the U.S.,” said Jutras.   

Even though his journey started from a mere curiosity, his passion to share what he learned from locals in Fredericton is represented through his duck logo on his coffee bags and in the houses of others who look to create culture and tradition in their own coffee mug. 

I no longer have the French press from my first move. I gave it to my best friend as a present, and every time I spend time at her house, I make coffee for both of us. It’s no longer just me and my two cups of coffee; it’s me and someone I care about, sharing the same experience and exchanging coffee beans from our two countries. We learned more about each other through boiling water and organic coffee grounds.   

Now I’m in another apartment, where it’s me and two other girls who are just as devoted to black coffee as I am. During our afternoon boredom, we knock on each other’s doors to ask if anyone wants a cup. By the time I’m awake, they are already brewing their own coffee, and we all fall into a comfortable morning silence.   

The $10 French press has now been replaced by an espresso machine that my roommate carried all the way from Honduras in her carry-on. With time, we acquired a coffee grinder, a Nespresso Aeroccino milk frother, and coffee beans from Ethiopia, Ecuador, Honduras and Guatemala. These coffee items sit on a wooden table under a circular-shaped sign that reads “Coffee Lover” hanging on our wall.

Still of the espresso machine my roommate, Ana Hernandez, brought in her carry-on from Honduras. (Credit: Fernanda Sanchez)