Words by Timothy Woodbridge
It’s an ambiguous Tuesday in July. I’m wearing shorts, sunglasses and a thick fleece. Sweat tentatively forms on my forehead and is quickly joined by a raindrop. They greet each other and are immediately confused as to who’s who. I wipe my forehead, run down Gardner Street and turn into Triple Point Coffee.
As I enter, all around me is white. The walls are suspiciously clean; all the furniture is wood, and the barista looks happy. Alarm bells ring in my head — is this another soulless cafe? A mimicry of passion and taste? I look for a bare brick wall, but there is none. I relax a little. The smell of a Mexican from Skylark mixes with that of a freshly baked cardamom bun; I see a grind-by-weight Mythos (G 75); the handmade shelves have coffee from Skylark, Campbell & Syme, Parallel and Coffee at 33 on them. I relax, and my coffee senses tingle.
I give my order. A smooth, Scottish voice soothes the ever-present existential dread with a “no problem at all.” I sit down on a large wooden table. Next to me, two people are playing with a wooden chess set. Sat on a wooden bench, under the glow of copper lights, sit three Brighton coffee shop regulars — ones who have been around a while, have seen it all, tasted it all; who have heard of carbonic maceration and know what it means, vaguely.
Comfortable electronic music lounges around the room. A rare bit of sunlight warms the room to room temperature. Triple Point Coffee is on the same side of Gardner Street as Komedia. It’s a bread’s length away from another Brighton favourite, Bond Street Coffee, and is surrounded by an army of trendy glasses shops. Stuart, the owner, explains that the term ‘Triple Point’ is a “balancing of conditions to achieve something special.” It is a state of harmony that allows for a unique experience.
The shop aims high. It aims at this harmonious balance. Visually, the white of the walls, blue of the cups and pink of the custom Monti Carlo Conti add a subtle unity to the minimal theme. As Stuart excitedly explains, this particular Conti used to be a display model (more than fit for purpose). Now, its clear back exhibits the vibrant pink workings of the machine to all the customers who enter: an ostentatious greeting. Anywhere else, it would be tacky, but here, it is a sign of flair and care.
The service subtly blends warm, genuine conversation and focused concentration. Stuart makes my coffee with ease. As the EK43 S’s Turkish burrs grind up my Colombia Galeras from Skylark, it is clear that he has done this many times before. He charmingly explains all the details of the shop and its history while handing me a delicious, fruity and unique coffee.
Though this shop has an easy air, the journey to get here wasn’t smooth. Stuart moved from Scotland to Brighton in 2019 to open a cafe. However, a certain world event got in his way. In the four-year delay, he made coffee and sometimes baked at some of the best shops in town — Coffee at 33, Bond Street Coffee and Black Rain. Although this may have felt like a setback at the time, he has gathered quite a following. His shop, which finally opened in June 2023, is filled with regulars from all over town. They are invited in with a smile; they stay for the coffee and leave with one or two of the sweet treats Stuart and his small team hand-make and bake downstairs.
As a small business owner, he likes to buy from real people. He features coffees from old friends up in Scotland, from non-profits and small, exciting roasters. At the time of writing, there were five feature coffees from all over and a house espresso, which he changes occasionally to keep things fresh for himself and the customers. Currently, it is the Cerrado Mineiro from Parallel: notes of cacao, hazelnut, pomegranate. Ever willing to please, he also serves a small but coveted selection of teas and various homemade soft drinks. He is also not afraid to put time and thought into the decaf he stocks for those of us who love the taste and like getting some sleep. He has tasty options from both Skylark and Parallel. He has also featured an equally rare and incredible decaf from Taith Roasters.
The building was not made to be a cafe — bits of it had to be replaced or restored. However, this has become one of Brighton’s go-to coffee shops with the help of a few faithful friends and some incredibly talented staff (kitted with vintage wear and a moustache to match). As I did, you can sit in a light, stylish room while watching the dungarees, the ever-changing weather and the world go by from the centre of it all. It is an oasis of charm in the middle of a busy, bustling and sometimes pretentious city. It creates something special without seeming to try.
As I take the last sip of my drink, I order another bun to go, say a warm goodbye to Stuart and the other faces I recognise, and walk out the door. As I walk back up Gardner Street, the sun maliciously shines directly into my eyes. I put my sunglasses on and feel a raindrop on my face. I stop, put on my jumper, and wander into Brighton in my thick, green fleece, thin, green shorts and oval sunglasses. I pass a fluffy dog walking a suited man, an unironic trilby and someone with a bird on their shoulder; I take a bite of my bun and smile — content and entirely at home.
