It was more than coffee, more than pastries, more than chocolate. Sure, I enjoy all those things, but it wasn’t about those things. It was about us, the locals, the semi-locals and the tourists. It was about the friendships and bonds that developed over coffee, many that will last a lifetime.
There was no time limit, no pressure, no hassle, no urgency. Those who know, know. On any given day, you’d see many laptops, people from all walks, from a Fortune 500 CEO to a ski technician and everything in between, and even a handful of old school newspapers.
You’d listen to the hum of life from people conducting business on Zoom calls, along with chatter about a secret powder stash, or a nervous online dating first encounter.
This place reminded me more of a European café, where actual conversations are more fashionable than cell phones. On the nice days, I preferred one of the two outdoor seating areas.
Despite my love for the place, the building’s exterior was as bland as they come: a very basic, some would say ugly, cinderblock structure adjacent to a storage facility and an automotive shop. Like the saying goes, beauty is in the eye of the beholder.
For us regulars, some even six days a week (only because they were closed on Mondays), this less than picturesque place was bewitching and lovely in its own way, at least to those of us who knew what awaited inside.
It was our gathering place. Sure, Ritual wasn’t the only coffee shop in town, but if you frequented it, you “get it.” This was our place. This was where we looked forward to seeing each other, including the staff, from the baristas to the bakers.
I could have made coffee at home and saved the six or seven bucks on an overpriced oat milk latte. But I was indirectly paying for unforced and often lasting connections made in our little enclave far more than the coffee itself.
I looked forward to walking in the door every day and seeing which of my new or old friends might be scattered about.
Ritual Chocolate & Café brought us together and, sadly, closed its doors in October 2023. I don’t think I fully realized its significance at the time. It was just a coffee shop, after all. But it was my and our Ritual.
When it closed for good, I assumed our posse would relocate intact. Instead, we all scattered, from Main Street to Kimball Junction, as this is one Ritual that’ll be hard to replicate. I sure hope someone tries.
Michael Miller
Park City