When I first moved to Seattle I had to learn to drink coffee. I mean, c'mon, are you kidding? Luckily LaLa devoted herself to teaching me and took me to Espresso Vivace. At Vivace a really nice guy named Brian made my first mocha, which tasted like high octane hot chocolate, and I was hooked. The coffee there was the best in a city truly and deeply snotty about it's coffee; Vivace had won "Best Espresso" in the Seattle Weekly's annual poll so often that the category was changed to "Best Latte Art" and they won that, too. On the morning I left to move home I stopped and Brian made me my very last mocha in the city. A couple of years later my now husband and I visited before we were married and met Lala at the sidewalk cafe. As I stepped up to place my order a really friendly voice greeted me. "Good to see you back. Tall mocha, no whipped cream, right?" It was Brian, still pulling exquisite shots, still gently swirling the steamed milk into roses. He passed on yesterday. Travel gently, fair brother.