09/20/2026
For four years, Cielito only existed online. My wife and I packed every bag of coffee at our kitchen table, and I drove them to the post office myself. Then we signed a lease on a street where nobody knew our name, and taped this sign in the window. We had no idea if anyone would come…
This room sat empty for eight months, but it was never quiet. From August to April there were always people in here, painting, sanding, fixing whatever broke that week. And plenty broke. But nobody in here was just doing a job. Every single one of them put their heart into a place that wasn’t even theirs, and you can still feel it when you sit down. I think about them every time I open.
I climbed up and did this part myself. I needed to. This was a name my wife and I had carried for four years, finally going up on a wall where strangers could read it. I don’t think I’ve ever been so nervous about a sign.
The day this roaster came through the door, everything changed. It meant nobody else would ever roast our coffee for us. We control every batch, right here in the room, and the farmers in Huila who grow it finally have someone roasting it who knows their names. For a small family shop, that used to be impossible ☕️
At this point everyone had gone home. It was just me on the floor at one in the morning, putting together every table in this shop, one by one. So if one of them wobbles, that’s on me. I built it 🫣
We walked past this corner a hundred times before it was ours. Now it’s the first thing I see at five in the morning, keys in my hand, before the city wakes up.
Our coffee comes from different farmers in Huila, Colombia. That’s a long way from Chicago. Some mornings I still can’t believe it, a small town most people here have never heard of, in a cup on Belmont Avenue in CHICAGO 🥹
No blends. No middlemen. Nobody in between deciding what a farmer’s work is worth. We buy directly from the family that grows it, and their region, name goes on the bag. That was the whole reason to open this shop in the first place 👍
My family built this with me from the very first bag to the very last chair. Our daughter has practically grown up inside these walls. On the hard days,