The Coffee Movement

From the quaint, cozy atmosphere to the charming simplicity and local feel; you will want to add The Coffee Movement to your list of must-try spots in San Francisco.

Before I moved to SF, I spent the week of Thanksgiving 2022 in the city with my brother, who had moved to North Beach a few months earlier. I spent hours exploring the different neighborhoods from North Beach to Richmond, walking up and down the hills of Fog City as cable cars squealed by.

The wind howled as I stood on the top of Nob Hill: in awe of the stained-glass windows covering Grace Cathedral.

I started the walk down Taylor Street and turned on Washington, for no reason other than I had the Hamilton soundtrack playing on repeat – a guilty pleasure of mine, then and now. Walking the cusp of Nob Hill and Chinatown, I stumbled upon a café - The Coffee Movement.

At the time, I was almost exclusively drinking cortados (in less fancy terms: a short latte minus the foam), hot and with regular milk. I stood in line outside the building, the iconic coffee mug logo swinging above me. Everything about this coffee shop was lovely - the baristas; the locals hanging out street-side with company or light reading; the thoughtfully displayed items for sale. It felt like a community touchpoint amidst the city noise, even for a tourist.

I took my first sip. A harmonious balance between the boldness of the beans and the creaminess of the milk overwhelmed me. This was exactly how a cortado should taste, at least in The Bev Girl’s opinion.

I soon forgot about The Coffee Movement, or at least didn’t think much about it since I left SF and headed back home after the holiday.

A little less than a year later, I was moving into my new apartment. I had never seen it in person and was moving in all by myself. I was in a weird place: I had graduated from university and moved to a city where I had no friends, no job, and no real plan for what this next chapter would look like. An undeniably bold move for a very Type A personality, but I knew I needed the push this city was going to provide.

I headed out on a walk: exhausted from my day of moving, anxious - feeling lost in this new place I was supposed to call home. Three blocks in, I was overwhelmed with nostalgia, or maybe it was déjà vu. I brushed it off: it was just another feeling telling me this was where I was supposed to be even though I had no idea what direction to go in.

One block later, I looked up… Washington Street. I knew exactly where I was headed.