Actually, I’ll take a hot chocolate. They serve a very delightful one at the Blue Heeler Coffee Shop, which is a food truck permanently located right across the road from Maple View Farm Ice Cream at the corner of Dairyland and Rocky Ridge roads in Hillsborough, NC. Right there in the heart of the Union Grove Farm vineyard.
Of course, they serve way more coffee than anything else at the Blue Heeler. And everyone I’ve talked to says it is really good coffee at that, all locally sourced and sustainably grown. You can get a latte, an espresso or just a black cupajoe, All piping hot and (I’m told) delicious. According to the menu posted right next to the serving window, you can also get your caffeine cold-brewed, in the form of (allegedly) super refreshing ice coffee or tea, but on the literally freezing February morning I was last there, nobody but nobody was buying anything cold..
Nope, that morning, it was coffee, steaming hot coffee, the customers wanted and that’s what they got. Except for me and my hot chocolate.
By now, you’ve probably guessed that I don’t drink coffee. I don’t even eat it, in the form of tiramisu or mocha ice cream. When I was a little kid, if I happened to pick a coffee-flavored chocolate out of the box, I’d spit it out. I’m somewhat better mannered now, so I just avoid boxed chocolates altogether in order to eliminate the chance I might accidentally pick a coffee one. “You never know what you’re going to get,” Forrest Gump’s mama famously said about boxes of chocolates and expanding that image into a commentary of life. She was referring, of course, to having picked out Forrest in the maternity ward. She got a coffee one, I’ve always thought.
I don’t know what it is about the coffee vs my taste buds enmity thing, but it’s been life-long, almost 82 years to the day, that frigid morning I stopped off at the Blue Heeler.
Absolutely the only time I remember taking as many as two sips in a single sitting, was one day back in 1971, when my boss, then Illinois Governor Richard B. Ogilvie, decided he wanted to make a quick visit to his elderly parents place, which happened to be on the way between scheduled stops. I was traveling with him as aide-de-camp and he insisted I come in with him, instead of waiting outside with the security guys.
After family hugs, I was graciously welcomed into their nice, but very dated Evanston apartment, and no sooner were we seated in the living room than Mrs. Ogilvie brought in a silver service. “Coffee?” she asked.
If it had been anyone else, practically anyone else, I would have politely declined, but this was the Governor’s mother, for crying out loud. As his scheduler, I knew perhaps better than any non-family member how little time they got to be with their famous son, and how precious that time must be to them. If I had said, “no, thank you,” she would have said, “Tea?” If I accepted that, she would have to make me some tea. If I declined, she would have given me more options and kept going until I said something like, “really, nothing, thank you,” at which point she would still not be satisfied without saying, “are you sure?”
In the time it would have taken to get through that conversation, she probably could have made the tea, so I had no choice but to answer her first question, “Thank you,” and accept the coffee. Anything else would be robbing the family of quality time together.
Moreover, in such an intimate setting, just the four of us, I would actually have to drink at least some of the coffee. The only good news was that these were the small, old fashioned cups, the ones that come on saucers. I bravely drank about three quarters of the cup, which remains, I kid you not, the largest amount of coffee I have ever ingested in one sitting, and very possibly a majority of my entire lifetime consumption.
Blue Heeler dogs are a favorite here at the farm. Now they’re our favorite coffee, too.
But for normal people, coffee is a wonderful conversation enhancer and friendship builder, a sort of social glue. And the Blue Heeler and its customers are prime examples of that function. This is not an accident. Meredith Sabye, who came up with the idea for the Blue Heeler Coffee Shop had that very much in mind all along, and it seems to be working. “The idea wasn’t to make a lot of money selling coffee,” she says “I wanted to build sort of a community, where people could stop by in the morning and get to know us and one another. She and Greg Bohlen looked around and found an old trailer that had seen service at a local farmer’s market as a produce stall on wheels.
Greg then worked for weeks repurposing it with cookware, plumbing, refrigeration and all the other paraphernalia of a modern coffee emporium. They wrapped the whole thing in an eye-catching red, blue and orange exterior featuring a picture of Bandit, Greg’s Blue Heeler canine friend, and parked it in place. The shop is open from 7 to 10 o’clock am Monday through Saturday, and on Saturdays, you can buy some of Greg’s fantastic fresh-made-in-front-of-your-eyes mini sugar/cinnamon donuts to go with your morning caffeine.
The place is pet-friendly, too, with a jar of free dog treats right there on the counter.
If, some morning, you’ve already made your coffee, but find you are out of eggs for your breakfast, the Blue Heeler also carries fresh Union Grove eggs in reasonably-priced half-dozen cartons. These are the proud produce of a pampered flock of fowl that live in luxury quarters near Greg’s house. He tried letting them run free range, a move that was greatly appreciated by the local coyote population, but resulted in a serious mortality among the poultry and had to be curtailed. Safety first, Greg believes.
As there always is, there was lively music playing from somewhere in the Blue Heeler as I walked up. Michael Cohen, a local sculptor, was being served his piping hot java. He’s a one cup a day guy, he told me, and he usually gets it at the Blue Heeler, because “the coffee is good and the atmosphere is, well, kind of funky.” Retired cardiologist “Doc” Griggs was next. He’s also a modest coffee consumer, but his wife is “addicted to the stuff.” And also smart enough to stay inside on frigid mornings, I thought. Doc used to train first responders in how to deal with heart attack victims. He and Greg, himself a first responder with the Orange Grove Volunteer Fire Department, talked shop for a few minutes. And so it went, all morning, although I didn’t stay around until the 10 o’clock closing time.
A lot of the people knew each other, so I think the community thing is working.
It’s an easy community to join, so if you’re in the area some morning – maybe in nice weather – just stop by. Bring your main squeeze, your golfing buddy, your dog, whoever. Meet old friends or make some new ones. And if you absolutely must, go ahead and enjoy a cup of coffee while you’re there.
