"Cups Like That I Throw Away": Kristiyan of Little's

Asked what matters more, the bean or the person behind the machine, Kristiyan answers in five words.

"The person behind the machine."

KRISTIYAN, LITTLE'S

Kristiyan works the bar at Little's, the British flavoured coffee brand whose Sofia shop is on Sheynovo Street, where the shelves carry jars and capsules in toffee and hazelnut, French vanilla, double chocolate and caramel. Little's was among the participants at Good Coffee Festival 2026 in front of NDK. What follows comes from a Slow Made City conversation around the festival - short questions, none of them about turnover or locations.

The bean is decided somewhere else

The answer is short and it is not cheap. The bean is a sequence of decisions taken long before the bar: origin, altitude, processing, lot, roast level. None of it changes the moment someone walks through the door.

The person behind the machine is the only thing that changes every day. They read the hesitation, suggest, dose, throw away and start again. Kristiyan picks the variable that belongs to him, which reads more like a description of responsibility than a compliment to the trade.

The order is a portrait

Asked which order tells a whole biography, the answer opened up for the first time.

"Every order shows who the person behind it is. When it is the standard flavours, it is clear the person does not like to experiment. When they order different kinds, it means they are curious, ready to go on an adventure. To try new things as well."

KRISTIYAN, LITTLE'S

In a place where the choice is a wall of flavours, that observation carries more weight than it sounds. In a cafe with three options an order says almost nothing. In front of twenty jars every order is a decision: how far from the familiar someone is willing to go this morning.

The difference is practical too. The conservative customer is sold certainty, the curious one a surprise, and the two need different conversations. The first wants to hear they will not get it wrong. The second wants to hear what is new.

When did a customer last change his mind about something? A few days ago. The answer points at the last few days rather than at some memorable event, and that is what makes it interesting: behind a bar, changing your mind happens weekly, not once in a career.

Patience, said twice

Does espresso teach patience or speed? Here the answer was flat.

"Patience, definitely."

KRISTIYAN, LITTLE'S

A few questions later the same word came back, this time about the most difficult customer: patience. One quality, taught once by the machine and once by the person across the counter.

Espresso has grounds to be a teacher. Twenty five to thirty seconds of extraction look like speed, but a long sequence of waiting sits behind them: the grinder moves in steps, every change is checked with a fresh shot, and the shot can only be judged once it has cooled enough to taste. The quick result comes out of a slow setup.

The cups that never reach the table

The answer closes the question before it opens.

"I have never been ashamed. Cups like that I throw away."

KRISTIYAN, LITTLE'S

It sounds like a joke and it describes a working standard. The cup is judged before it leaves, not after it comes back. Foam that has turned into large bubbles, milk that has been scalded, a shot that ran too fast and stayed sour: all of it is visible behind the bar and invisible at the table.

The cost is real: a dose gone, milk gone, another minute of waiting. A place that counts only the cost serves the cup.

What to ask the farmer

Given one question for the farmer who grew the beans, he would not ask about flavour or altitude.

"I would ask him how he keeps quality consistent."

KRISTIYAN, LITTLE'S

That is the question of someone thinking about the next delivery, not the next cup. Consistency is the hardest thing in coffee and the least romantic: the same farm gives a different harvest every year, because the rains, the temperatures and the moment of ripening all move.

The farmer's answer is usually dull, which is exactly why it matters: picking only ripe cherries instead of stripping the branch, sorting out defects before drying, drying that is never hurried, and moisture brought down to around 10-12% before the beans leave. None of those steps shows up in the cup on its own. Together they decide whether the next sack resembles the last one.

The motto over the door

The last question was what would be carved over the door if the shop had a motto.

"Always try to offer the best of yourself."

KRISTIYAN, LITTLE'S

The sentence is an instruction aimed at himself, which is why it belongs on the door rather than in the window. Little's was on the square in front of NDK from 11 to 13 September. For the rest of the year the same sentence gets tested another way: by the cups that never reach the table.