Sol’s Coffee Tokyo: A Serendipitous Encounter

"Serendipity" is not a word that makes its way into everyday conversation. It describes a rare feeling, one that most of us don’t often experience. But sometimes, life surprises us, offering moments that feel both random and perfectly timed—moments that shift the course of things, almost like fate. Somewhere in Tokyo, nestled between unassuming streets, is a café named after that exact feeling. It’s called "Serendipity of Life," or SOL’s Coffee.

It was October 8th, a quiet Tuesday, just two days before SCAJ2024. My wife and I were in Tokyo, enjoying a bit of leisure. She had booked a haircare session in Asakusabashi, and I suddenly found myself with two hours to spare, wandering the streets aimlessly. As I strolled from Asakusabashi Station toward Kuramae, past office buildings and old-school shops, something caught my eye across a large intersection—an alley, and in it, a modest little shop. I glanced at Google Maps. The score looked good, but I still hesitated. As a self-proclaimed coffee connoisseur, I’ve learned not to trust every online review. Still, something about the place called to me. I stepped inside SOL's Coffee Roastery.

I ordered a pour-over Ethiopian—a go-to for me. Ethiopian beans are my favourite, and they serve as a reliable benchmark when trying a café for the first time. An Ethiopian brew rarely disappoints, so I felt confident in my choice.

As I waited, my eyes wandered around the small shop, which couldn’t have been more than 20 square meters. In the corner, a Fuji Royal roasting machine caught my attention.

Next to it, a set of minimalist, cubic-shaped stools and a half-moon table made up a cozy seating area. The whole setup took up a third of the shop. The rest of the space was a long bench where orders were placed, coffee brewed, and simple baked goods displayed under a lit glass counter. The atmosphere felt chill and serene, the kind of place where locals sip their coffee while reading a book, perfectly content in their quiet world. Even as a foreigner, I felt welcomed.

Their barista, whom I later learned was named Mazzer, prepared my coffee using a traditional brushed iron kettle. As I filmed the process, we communicated in a mix of broken English and sign language—a humorous and strangely effective exchange, mostly consisting of hand gestures. As I enjoyed my coffee, I struck up a conversation with Yuto, a baker working behind the counter who spoke decent English. We talked about the café’s plans to attend SCAJ2024. That’s when Mazzer pulled out a machine from under the counter—a sleek, manual espresso maker, designed by their shop.

The moment I saw it, I knew this was something special. It wasn’t like any espresso machine I’d seen before. It wasn’t the shiny stainless steel of a La Pavoni or the mechanical elegance of a Flair or ROK. No, this was something entirely unique—like a smooth-headed bullet, designed with purpose, stripped of unnecessary details. This machine, as Kuri, their sales manager, later explained, was going to be showcased at SCAJ. Its story, like the café itself, was one of serendipity—designed by the team at SOL’s Coffee, with a Kickstarter campaign in the works to bring it to a global market.

By the time I met Rieko Arai, the owner of the shop, I was fully absorbed in the moment. We exchanged thoughts on coffee and business, but time passed quickly, and soon enough, we parted ways, with plans to meet again at the SCAJ2024 booth.

Fast forward to today. At the time of writing, I’m in talks with Kuri about bringing their espresso machine to Australia through Hyperbatch. By the time you’re reading this, perhaps Australian customers are already pulling their first shots with this machine, whether in their homes, cafes, or offices.

Reflecting on it now, this entire experience was nothing short of serendipitous. A random walk, an unexpected café visit, a chance encounter—and suddenly, the trajectory of my business plan in Japan shifted in a way I could never have anticipated. Serendipity, it seems, is an ongoing theme in life. You never know when it will strike, but when it does, it’s simply amazing.