20 years is a long time, but it went by so fast.
BY LEM BUTLER
Photos by Kenneth R. Olson unless noted
Featured photo courtesy of Lem Butler
Twenty years ago, I was a young barista with big dreams and nervous hands, pulling shots at the Daily Grind Espresso Café on the University of North Carolina, Chapel Hill campus. I didn’t know it then, but I was about to be swept into a journey that would shape my life—and Barista Magazine would be one of the most powerful forces guiding me along the way.
It all started in 2005. The specialty-coffee industry was still small enough that you could learn most of what you needed to know behind the bar or from the few competitions and coffee expos that existed. Instagram didn’t exist. Facebook was still “The Facebook,” only available to college students. MySpace reigned, but no one there was talking about direct trade or grinder burr calibration. I learned latte art from a DVD.
And then came Barista Magazine.
The very first issue featured Bronwen Serna on the cover. She was radiant, confident, and skilled—someone who wasn’t just in coffee, but of it. Her story moved me deeply. I didn’t know it was possible to feel so seen by a story that wasn’t mine—not yet. But there was something in the way Sarah Allen and Ken Olson told it that reached me. Their writing didn’t just cover events—it revealed truths. I was so inspired, so full of gratitude, that when I finally saw Bronwen in person a year later, I couldn’t even muster the words to say how much her story meant to me.
That same year, I competed for the second time and won my first Southeast Regional Barista Competition. I also walked the show floor at my very first Specialty Coffee Association (of America) Expo in Charlotte, N.C., wide-eyed like a kid in a candy store. It was the first time I realized how big and layered this coffee world really was. But it was Barista Magazine that helped me understand it, that helped me see where I might fit into it.
At the Daily Grind, we’d huddle around each new issue like it was a sacred text. The magazine became our lifeline to a broader world we couldn’t yet access. Through its pages, we were introduced to farmers, roasters, cafés pushing boundaries, and brewing methods we hadn’t yet imagined. We learned about fair trade and its limitations, about shade-grown versus sun-grown, about organic certifications and how smallholder farmers often couldn’t afford them but cared deeply about soil and sustainability all the same.
And as I grew in coffee, I slowly started to grow closer to the people behind the publication that shaped me. I began to see Sarah and Ken regularly—at expos, at competitions. What started as a quiet wave or a nervous “hi” grew into conversations about the industry, about storytelling, about the future. I eventually visited their office in Portland, Ore., and was beside myself. I was standing in the heart of a magazine that had guided my life like a compass, and I felt that energy—humble, hardworking, revolutionary.
As I won more regional barista competitions, I began traveling more—origin trips that Barista Magazine would often cover. I found myself in Colombia with Elkin Guzman, learning about anaerobic fermentation alongside brilliant minds like Sam Schroeder, Sam Lewontin, and Sasa Sestic. Of course, Sarah Allen was there to document it all with her signature attentiveness and care.
I rode in the back of a truck with Ken through the dark of Minas Gerais in Brazil at 1 a.m., harvesting coffee mechanically—just hours after flying from Espírito Santo, where smallholder farms contrasted with the flat, high-volume stereotype of Brazilian coffee production. Another time, I was on a small plane flying over the Great Rift Valley in Kenya from coffee farms to the Maasai Mara with Ken again, camera in tow, capturing a trip full of lions, hippos, and cuppings (oh my!)—witnessing the journey from farm to mill to auction to export while celebrating 50 years of Kenya’s independence.
Those trips weren’t just work—they were transformation. They were living proof of what Barista Magazine had always done best: honor the entire supply chain with depth, humanity, and care.
Somehow, over the years, I went from reading those pages to living in them. I became a contributor, a cover story, and eventually an editorial board member. And finally, I became the first Black United States Barista Champion—a moment Barista Magazine captured with the same generosity and clarity they had shown all along.
In following Barista Magazine, I wasn’t just following stories—I was finding my own. And I wasn’t alone. So many of us grew up professionally alongside this magazine. It’s chronicled our evolution as individuals, as an industry, and as a community. From fledgling baristas to seasoned educators, green buyers, coffee producers, roasters, business owners, and advocates, we’ve all found something of ourselves in those pages.
Sarah and Ken didn’t just start a magazine—they started a movement. One that bridged gaps, celebrated voices, and gave the specialty-coffee world a mirror in which to see its past, present, and future. From their small Portland beginnings, they’ve impacted every corner of the global coffee industry—and we’re all better for it.
Congratulations, Barista Magazine, on 20 years of storytelling, soul, and service. May the pages continue to turn, shape lives, inspire excellence, and connect our community across continents and cups. This is not a first or last sip, just a strong shot of gratitude, pulled perfectly, medium weight, velvety tactile, blueberry acidity, lemongrass simple syrupy sweetness, and a floral gardenia finish. As always, thank you for everything.
Time.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Lem Butler is a longtime specialty coffee professional. He is the 2016 U.S. Barista Champion, co-founder of a prominent specialty-coffee company, and is also known as DJ Sexy Foam.
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