A few times during my meanderings around Penwortham, I’ve driven past an interesting little spot called Three Sisters Coffee Roasters. It’s one of the businesses operating in a row of premises set slightly back from Liverpool Road, so the few tables outside have a buffer of distance and hedge between their occupiers and the main road.
I was intrigued by the fact that they weren’t just coffee sellers, but coffee roasters, so I decided to do something different from my usual type of review and try a few different roasts and beans. It would be like a micro wine tasting event, but one from which I can legally drive myself home, albeit a bit twitchier than usual. Also, it says on their website that they make their own cinnamon rolls on a Saturday, and I’m all over a cinnamon pastry like a Prestonian on a parched pea.
I took the Scouser with me by floating the possibility of a bacon sandwich, which was fudging the truth a bit as I’d already looked at the menu and knew that the closest he was going to get was some toast, but it worked.
The little coffee shop was packed inside and out with couples, children and friends, all of whom looked to be having a great time. Many also seemed to be regulars judging by the interactions between them and the staff, which was a good sign.
I went to the counter to place my order, which is when the spiral into mild chaos began, so before I get into it, let me first issue a small statement. Coffee aficionados, be ready to get your snoot on:
I don’t know about coffee. My idea of a nice cup is one that smells good, isn’t bitter, doesn’t burn my tongue and doesn’t make me partially responsible for field labourers being paid poverty wages. I have tried and failed to wean myself off adding sugar to it, and I always have it with milk. I’m a coffee pleb. Also, I’m slightly mistrustful of coffee fanatics because too many of them would pay a fortune for coffee made from berries that a wild Columbian member of the cat family had already eaten. It’s creepy. My dog once ate a bacon sandwich I’d made for lunch and despite being a huge fan of bacon that’s where it ended.
My brilliant idea of trying a few different types, learning a bit about coffee and then sipping my favourite with an air of quiet sophistication whilst reading something by Graeme Green and wearing a wide brimmed, floppy hat was pants, because it was a beautiful sunny Saturday morning and I wasn’t the only person aware that there were hot cinnamon rolls knocking about.
I told the friendly person behind the counter that I’d like to try a few different types of coffee, expecting to hear a list of appetising sounding beans that I’d never heard of but would hopefully be at least somewhat descriptive without entering silly real ale territory with names like Columbian Bean Flicker or Stephen’s Mysterious Lump.
Instead, I was given the option of “Batch Brew, Chemex, Clever Drip, Syphon, V60, or Aeropress?”
I don’t know what any of that is. The member of staff tried to explain them to me but nothing went in, triggering a horrible flashback to high school chemistry lessons. At least she didn’t throw a blackboard duster at me, though she may have wanted to, and I would have accepted the concussion because it was a terrible waste of her time.
All I learned was that the list described different methods of brewing the coffee. I asked about the different beans they used, and was given a choice of Brazil, Columbia, Myanmar and Uganda, then I ordered a Clever Drip version of each one (£4 each), two slices of toasted sourdough, a cinnamon bun, and a latte for the Scouser.
The toast was splendid. Hand cut with a lovely sourdough sproiingy texture and real butter. Can anything ever beat that? Probably not, but I’d ordered a freshly baked cinnamon roll so the fight wasn’t over yet.
It smelt wonderful and I wanted to like it, but I didn’t. The thick frosting on top made it way too sweet for me and overpowered the cinnamon and warm bread underneath. Of course, that’s just my personal opinion and the buns were flying out, so don’t be put off from trying one for yourselves. I’d like to have another if I could time my visit with them just coming out of the oven before being iced.
Two of the coffees came to the table in pots, and two were in paper cups, which was a little confusing as we hadn’t ordered any to take away. We were only given a single-portion jug of milk between all four coffees, which wasn’t enough but it had to do, as we couldn’t get the attention of any staff and there was a queue at the counter.
We tasted each coffee individually and without milk or sugar, but didn’t love any of them. As I mentioned before, we know very little about coffee, so those who do may appreciate the flavours far more. To us, most seemed very similar, quite bitter, and the only one that stood out to us was Columbia, which was a lot smoother than the others and had considerably more flavour.
What I discovered when I looked again at Three Sisters website was that they occasionally hold 90 minute Introduction To Speciality Coffee workshops, the next being on Friday 1 August. Attending an event like this might have made me more able to appreciate the different coffees if I knew more about them. Or maybe not, because I went to a wine tasting event a few years ago and thought the most expensive one tasted like old raisins fermented in Kermit the Frog’s bathwater.
My ill-timed, micro tasting session aside, Three Sisters Coffee Roasters is an immensely popular, welcoming little place. As well as toasties, it sells an array of delicious looking cakes that come from a local supplier, such as vegan banana choc chip loaf, rhubarb and custard blondie and maple flapjacks.
The welcoming staff also didn’t bat an eyelid when I wheeled in a dog pram containing my malodorous and ancient chihuahua, Archie, still living his best life whilst looking like that Dr Who character/Alternate Reality Elon Musk who invented the Daleks.
There were a couple of blips in the service that couldn’t be remedied because we were unable to get the attention of any of the staff, like the tiny jug of milk for one coffee when we bought four and the latte that we ordered and paid for but didn’t materialise, but they apologised and immediately refunded me when I pointed it out as we left. Mistakes happen, and I’d rather go to a coffee shop where all the workers are friendly but make the occasional mistake than one where the service is constantly impeccable from waiters who are clearly fantasising about inventive ways to kill you if you ask for ketchup.
I’d visit again, but next time I’ll just order two slices of that lovely sourdough toast and trust that the cafe’s house blend will make a top notch cappuccino. Judging by the number of people there on that Saturday morning just ordering simple lattes, flat whites, teas and hot chocolates, it doesn’t need to be as complicated as I made it.
Do you rummage through cat poop for magic beans? Let us know in the comments.
