The Good, The Bad, and The Brew-tiful

Wolfeboro, that peculiar little pocket of civilization clinging to the shores of Winnipesaukee, harbors a secret: it is buzzing with coffee. A dozen or more establishments dispense that life-affirming nectar, each with its own atmosphere, philosophy, and—more to the point—its own website. But do these digital shopfronts mirror the warmth of their lattes, or do they, like a bad cup of diner coffee, leave one staring bleakly into the abyss? Let us take this journey together, dear Yankee, Yeti in hand, and assess what is worthy, what is wretched, and what can be salvaged.

A noble attempt, this one. Born in 2021, Harmony Coffee House set forth into the digital wilderness wielding that most democratic of tools: Wix. A serviceable choice, albeit one with monthly tithes ranging from $17 to $36. The site is lean, minimal, even elegant—with parallax effects that float like a dream, provided the dreamer does not look too closely at the details.

Ah, but the devil loves a footer, and this one still proclaims, “©2023 by Thyme. Proudly created with Wix.com,” a relic left behind like an unfinished cup on a café table. The text, too, strains the eyes, small and faint, as if whispering its message rather than proclaiming it. And yet, its social media links function, its SEO is in good order, and nearly a hundred voices have sung its praises in Google reviews. They pour a fine cappuccino, and their Scandinavian pastries are worth the price of admission. Not open Sundays—a tragedy, or perhaps an invitation to consider one's sins.

Local flavor beats generic every time.

Lucas Roasting, bold of bean yet weary of web, trudges along with a WordPress site that has seen better days. The landing page presents an image slider of no great consequence—four of five images indistinguishable from the detritus of a thousand other coffee sites. But then, like a lighthouse in the fog, there stands an image of Troy, one of the owners, who alone among his brethren remembers that branding is not merely a word but a gospel.

The navbar sags under its own weight, heavy with unnecessary burdens. The fonts are small, timid things that do not wish to trouble the reader. The online shop brims with everything from beans to stickers to soap, yet in its very abundance, it loses focus. And there, lurking like a ghost from the pandemic era, a CURBSIDE TO-GO link, filled with broken images and placeholders—relics of a battle fought and won, yet never quite cleaned up.

And yet, their coffee? Divine. Their roasts? Peerless. The site merely needs the hands of a craftsman, a potter at the wheel, to shape it into something worthy of the rich elixirs they produce.

Seven Suns does not concern itself with excess. Its website, plain and unassuming, presents only the necessary. A wise approach, yet one betrayed by small, insidious failures. The social media links lead not to their own pages. The food and drink menus, instead of enticing, resemble a Wolfeboro windshield in January—blurry, somewhat decipherable, leaving the viewer to squint and guess at their fate.

Yet Seven Suns serves its own roasted coffee. Its crepes are beyond reproach. It stands in quiet defiance, shoulder to shoulder with its neighbor, Harmony, proving that competition need not be a duel but a dance. If only its website would join in the rhythm.

Here we find a site built in Squarespace, though one suspects it was done so under duress. The fonts are whisper-thin, retreating from the eye as if fearing discovery. On mobile, text nearly vanishes into the ether, a secret known only to those who dare to squint. The images, meant to showcase the café's warmth and charm, instead betray an overreliance on stock photography—soulless, detached, a mirage of a place that does not exist.

But the remedy is simple. A smartphone, good lighting, an unshaking hand, and the courage to capture reality instead of illusion. A website, after all, should be an invitation, not an approximation.

Lydia's eschews a website entirely, existing only within the confines of Facebook—a choice both bold and limiting. For some, social media alone suffices; for others, it is a shackle. What Lydia's intends for its future remains to be seen, but should they wish to expand their digital footprint beyond the walls of Zuckerberg's domain, I stand ready to assist.

(Side note: I once had a black lab named Liddy—a creature of boundless joy, easily coaxed into a grin. If Lydia's Café is half as reliable, it is worth a visit.)

Ah, the Yum Yum Shop, which, unlike its brethren, has embraced e-commerce with the fervor of a merchant in a Dickensian marketplace. Its Shopify site gleams, offering online ordering, nationwide shipping, and in-store pickup. And yet, beneath its polish, cracks appear.

“Breads” are listed, yet none are to be found. Coffee soap—an intriguing prospect, but one wonders at its demand. Apparel, promised but inaccessible, lingers as a ghost of transactions unfulfilled. And there, like a stray ink blot on a fine manuscript, a line of misplaced CSS floats aimlessly: .site-nav a{padding: 3px 20px !important;}—a digital hiccup, a mistake so small yet so telling.

Is it knit-picking? Perhaps. But in such details lies the measure of a thing.

Coffee Cheers to Wolfeboro

Wolfeboro's coffee culture thrives, and with it, its digital presence struggles to keep pace. Here, the battle is not merely for the best roast but for the clearest voice, the sharpest presence, the warmest welcome. A website, like a good cup of coffee, should comfort, invigorate, and never leave one questioning the choices that led them to it. With a little attention, a bit of care, these establishments could elevate their online homes to match the excellence they serve in every steaming cup.

Now, my colonial friends, I bid thee adieu. I have another coffee to sip and another website to scru
tinize.