Every project on this page started in an empty room. A floor plan, a delivery date, a hotel team that had never pulled a shot – and one question: what should coffee feel like here? In the Alps the answer came out warm and slow, built around a fireplace and a seasonal menu. In the desert it had to survive 45 degrees, hard water and guests arriving at four in the morning. In London it had to hold its own in a building where everything else is already perfect.

I like the parts nobody photographs. The week before opening, when the machine is finally in and nothing else is: no cups yet, tape on the floor, a team learning where to put their hands. The morning after the first service, when we taste what actually happened instead of what we planned. The trip to a farm where I spend three days cupping lots that will never make it into the shipment, to find the two that will.

What stays with me is not the build. It is the barista who could not steam milk in April and runs the whole bar in September – and the guest who takes the first sip, looks up, and asks what this is.