Some day I will write a book about a coffee shop in my town called The Donut Mill.
Sadly, it is closed for good now, but it was my home away from home for many years, just behind my house and up the street. A two-minute walk away. It was a place of charm and character, and I loved every nook and cranny.
I drank a hundred gallons of coffee there and ate my weight in muffins and donuts several times over. It was widely acknowledged that the Donut Mill had the best coffee and baked goods in town.
The original building was small, but quaint. It was nicely sided in brown bricks with brown aluminum soffit and fascia and big windows. It wasn’t big inside and there was full-on smoking so every now and then, the formerly white ceiling tiles which turned a sickening yellow after time had to be replaced and the walls re-painted.
The coffee shop had a long counter that jutted out in the middle and tucked back in against one wall. There were stools, covered in red vinyl upholstery, all around the bar and when I went there, whether alone or with a friend, I tried to get the stool next to the wall. So did a dozen other guys.
Besides the busy walk-in traffic, the shop had a very loyal clientele, a gaggle of chatty guys who gathered every night to talk about their cars, trucks and motorcycles.
The place did a good trade but was a bit small and had no drivethrough, so the owners decided they needed to build a bigger spot with a take-out window.
They were progressive in that way but they also knew they needed to keep that loyal following of “car guys” as my friend and I referred to them. The owners worried they might lose these customers in any move so here is what they did.
They bought a nice big lot just up the street, on the same side of the street and only a few hundred feet away from the old shop (and right behind my house). They hired an architect. He was given the job of expanding the coffee shop, putting in a no-smoking section where food could be served, and adding a drivethrough.
His big challenge, however, was to make the new Donut Mill look exactly like the old one. And he did it. From the outside, the new one looked just like the old one – same brick, same trim, same windows and doors.
The sign from the old place was just moved down the street and attached to the front of the new one. Same coach lamps on the outside walls.
Inside there were the new features, but the same island for the till with its glassed-in area for the donuts and muffins.
But most importantly, the exact same counter with the identical red stools from the old shop.
When it opened, it was eerie going inside for the first time. Same tables, decor, everything. The car guys all streamed back in, almost as though they didn’t even notice they were in a new place, sat down on the stools and their discussion about all things automotive never missed a beat.
It was a clever design that took the customers into account.
And here’s what I liked the most.
A big name coffee shop a few blocks away just recently tore down their old store and moved across the street where they built a new one. It looks nothing like the old one and is very nice, but as far as I can see, a whole new, younger staff was hired for the new shop.
When the Donut Mill moved, all the same staff moved with it. We knew all these people from years and years of going there. Their familiar faces were the nicest feature to see when the new shop opened. They were like good friends.
We didn’t “go to” the Donut Mill as much as we visited it. That is what the new building recaptured and the new features added even more to it. But sadly, one owner’s death and the other’s illness forced its closing a few years ago.
I miss it.
And there is one other reason I loved the Donut Mill. I met a wonderful woman at the old coffee shop who would soon become my wife. And after our wedding reception, we dropped into the new place at 4 a.m., me in my tuxedo, my bride still in her wedding dress. We wanted to thank the owners for encouraging us to take the plunge.
All of that for the price of a cup of coffee.
©2013 Jim Hagarty
