Society's Most Discerning Gazette • Purveyor of Truths Both Warm, Well-Brewed & Rather Dramatic

She Traded the State Capitol for a Coffee Counter — & Society Is Not Over It

On Miss Ella Ettlin of The Ettlins Cafe, the Political Science Degree She Set Aside, & the Family Business That Simply Refused to Let Her Go

Dear gentle reader,

Your correspondent has encountered a great many defectors in her time — young people who set out for the halls of government with the noblest of intentions, only to find themselves lured, quite against their better judgment, back into the family business. But rarely has she encountered a defection quite so charming, nor a young woman quite so unbothered by having made it. Your correspondent presents Miss Ella Ettlin, and she promises you this story has considerably more plot than the average coffee run.

Miss Ettlin manages The Ettlins Cafe — the very establishment her parents built, the very kitchen she grew up standing in, aproned and underfoot, long before she had any say in the matter. That she is here now, running the place with evident command, is not an accident. It is, your correspondent submits, something closer to fate refusing to take no for an answer.

She set out for the State Legislature. Fate, evidently, had other plans — and a cafe with her name already on the sign.

The plot thickens considerably here, dear reader. Miss Ettlin worked at her family's side from the time she could reasonably hold a coffee pot, straight through until the summer of 2021, when she departed for Hamline University to pursue a Bachelor's degree in Political Science. She did not merely dabble in politics — she interned for both the Minnesota Senate and the House, walking the very corridors your correspondent imagines lined with ambition and questionable coffee. She loved it. She was, by every account, rather good at it.

And then — plot twist — something kept pulling her home. Not disillusionment. Not failure. Simply an undeniable pull toward the fast pace and deeply human chaos of restaurant life, which no legislative session, however dramatic, could quite replicate. She graduated. She came back. She has shown absolutely no sign of regretting it since, and your correspondent finds this refusal to look back rather thrilling.

Your correspondent inquired whether she always dreamed of managing the cafe. She did not — she confesses, quite plainly, that had things gone differently, she would be back in a Legislature somewhere at this very moment, drafting policy instead of pulling espresso. Your correspondent finds herself scandalized, delighted, and entirely convinced that both versions of Miss Ettlin would have been formidable.

Now, to the establishment itself, which deserves every bit as much drama as its manager. The Ettlins Cafe serves breakfast and lunch Tuesday through Sunday, from eight in the morning until two in the afternoon — creative drink offerings, home-cooked Czech and Bavarian fare, and ingredients sourced as locally as humanly possible. And then, dear reader, the crowning glory: they roast their own coffee beans, under the name Ettlins Coffee Roasting. This is not a cafe that merely serves coffee. This is a cafe with an entire coffee empire quietly operating behind the counter, and your correspondent finds this development nothing short of magnificent.

They roast their own beans, dear reader. One does not simply wander into this establishment for a coffee. One wanders in and discovers an entire coffee dynasty.

What motivates Miss Ettlin, she says, is the quiet and rather moving impact a restaurant has on the ordinary rhythms of people's lives — the family stopping in after the park, the visitor pausing on the way to see a loved one in hospital, the solitary reader tucked into a corner with a book and something warm to drink. She finds herself constantly inspired by the people she meets and the small memories stitched together in the process. Your correspondent, having heard this, is rather moved herself, and slightly annoyed that she did not bring a handkerchief.

At home, Miss Ettlin's world is rounded out by her parents, her brother Aidan, and her boyfriend Dylan. She is, by her own cheerful admission, an avid reader, rarely without her Kindle, and prone to disappearing into a book at any available opportunity — which your correspondent considers an entirely reasonable use of one's few quiet hours.

And when the cafe finally closes its doors, do not imagine for one moment that Miss Ettlin sits still. She walks. She runs long distances. She rides. She is, at present, deep in training for her third marathon, tearing up New Prague's sidewalks and trails with the same relentless energy she brings to the breakfast rush — most often spotted, by her own report, running through the city in the evening hours, as though the day's work were merely a warm-up for the real exertion still to come.

Two marathons and counting. Your correspondent has concluded that Miss Ettlin simply does not possess a setting below "full pace" — behind the counter, on the trail, or anywhere in between.

New Prague, your correspondent declares with no small amount of pride, has come out rather spectacularly ahead in this particular story. A promising political career, quietly and deliberately set aside in favor of a breakfast table near Main Street. The State Legislature's loss is, without question, this town's most delicious gain.

The Ettlins Cafe — breakfast & lunch, Tuesday through Sunday, 8am to 2pm.

Home-cooked Czech & Bavarian fare, creative drinks, and coffee roasted under their own name.

Miss Ella Ettlin, manager — and New Prague's own, through and through.

Your correspondent remains, as always, watching — and this week, rather desperately craving a fresh-roasted cup.

— A Lady Who Knows Where the Good Coffee Is