We went to Yardstick, Raymond and I. Like a little tita-nephew date.
Raymond is my colleague, a fresh grad who’s into books and coffee and anime. At first I thought it could have been more fun if we were from the same generation, but hey! Since when did generation gap hinder the love for books and coffee? Add to that the fact that he knows Love and Deepspace and knowing that someone else in the office can relate about my delusions on those fictional men just healed something within me that I can’t name but I knew was there this whole time.
Anyway, we didn’t have to venture too far for our coffee fix that afternoon. In just a few turns and a short walk, we found ourselves at Yardstick.
Walking around Legazpi Village on a mid-afternoon in 2026 is a different kind of feeling. The sun wasn’t glaring too much and the tall buildings and the trees provided shade. It actually brought me back to when I did the same thing in the late 2000s at eight in the morning after my graveyard shift looking for an almost hidden Starbucks because everywhere else is either full or full of familiar faces and people from work. It was too miserable that I already wanted to go home but I also wanted to decompress first before hitting the bus. And now, over a decade later, I am back, much older and undeniably in a much better place and much more relaxed.
Yardstick is a third wave coffee shop. A place that gives more reverence to the coffee beans, its roasting and brewing methods, and treats baristas as craftsmen. This is where my love (or addiction?) of coffee brought me, so much so that I actually took a course on coffee beans and basic brewing and attend cupping sessions whenever sessions happening.
I should have ordered long black or americano with special beans but I couldn’t find the energy to think and decide on which beans and if I wanted a pour over Hario V60 or kalita wave. So I ended up getting the hot Feel Good Latte. It was the easiest thing I found on the menu that sounded fancier than just old plain americano. Did I feel good about my drink? Well, it’s coffee. The little cinnamon didn’t hurt me.
Cheers to more coffee adventures.
