Why I Support Local Coffee

I could get my coffee anywhere.

There are a thousand options on the shelves at the grocery store. A thousand more on Instagram. Fancy bags with edgy fonts and political taglines. Coffee that claims to support the troops, save the rainforest, fix your brain chemistry, and turn your morning into a TED Talk.

But here’s what I’ve learned: your purchases tell a story about the life you’re building. Every dollar is a vote. Every routine is a ritual. And the question I keep coming back to—the one that echoes across my parenting, my workouts, my writing, and my mornings—is this:

“Does this choice align with the life I say I want?”

For me, that means supporting local. It means I buy beans from a guy I know. Matt Wright is a guy who roasts coffee in small batches here in town. A guy who, when I ran out of beans on a Saturday, hand-delivered a fresh bag to my repair shop.

His company’s called Golden Creations, and his coffee is damn good. But it’s not just about the flavor—it’s about what it represents.

We live in a world built on convenience. Drive-thru mornings. One-click purchases. Subscriptions that silently refill our lives.

And don’t get me wrong—some of that convenience has a place. But if you’re not careful, it becomes your default operating system. You stop asking questions. You stop paying attention. And one day you wake up and realize you’ve built a life that looks nothing like the one you meant to build.

That’s not gonna be me.

I want to know the people behind the things I use. I want to buy meat from the butcher, coffee from the roaster, produce from the farmer’s market. Not because I’m trying to live in some hipster fantasy world—but because I’m trying to live deliberately.

Local coffee is just one way I do that.

When I brew a cup of Golden Creations in my French press or Chemex, it hits different. Not just because the flavor profile is dialed in (and it is), but because I know where it came from.

I know the hands that roasted it. I know the guy’s name. I’ve talked to him about beans, roasting temps, and family. I’ve seen how much care he puts into a single bag.

You don’t get that from a mass-produced brand slapped with a punny name and a slick Instagram reel.

And when I share a cup with someone—whether it’s my wife Jennifer in the quiet hours before the day begins, or a buddy who stops by the shop—I get to tell that story. I get to support his story. And in a world full of curated feeds and fake connection, that feels rare and real.

There’s a lot of talk these days about values. About aligning your actions with your beliefs. About supporting what matters.

Well, I think that starts in your kitchen, in your home.

You want to support small business? Support your small businesses.

You want to see people in your community win? Stop sending your money to billion-dollar brands that wouldn’t notice if you disappeared tomorrow.

When I buy local coffee, I’m not just getting caffeine. I’m getting a small piece of someone’s dream. I’m helping keep that dream alive. And when my daughter sees that—when she watches me pay attention to who we support and why—I hope she learns something about integrity.

This isn’t about coffee.

It’s about waking up.

It’s about asking more of yourself and your habits. It’s about realizing that every time you swipe a card or hit “Buy Now,” you’re reinforcing something.

Do you want to reinforce thoughtlessness? Or do you want to reinforce care, craft, and connection?

For me, local coffee is part of a bigger system. It’s the same reason I cook most of my meals. The same reason I wear the same few high-quality clothes on repeat. The same reason I train every morning, write every week, and tuck my daughter in every night with the same bedtime song.

I’m trying to live a life that feels handcrafted. Not one that was pre-selected for me by an algorithm.

Here’s the truth: convenience is easy. Fast is easy. Clicking the ad that shows up on your feed is easy.

But if you want to build a meaningful life, easy probably isn’t the way.

Easy never changed the world. Easy never shaped a present father. Easy never brewed a cup of coffee that made you slow down and savor the moment.

So yeah—I’ll take the beans roasted by a guy down the street. I’ll text him when I’m running low. I’ll hand him cash or Venmo him directly. Because in that moment, I’m not just buying coffee. I’m reinforcing my values.

So if you’ve never tried local—if you’ve never walked into a roasting space, shook the owner’s hand, and drank a cup brewed with intention—I challenge you to do it.

You might just taste the difference. You might just feel the difference. And you might start making a few more decisions that align with the life you actually want.

All from a simple cup of coffee.