Gallus | Gal·lus
adj. bold, confident, cheeky or mischievous
Tom's first love was never coffee. It's music — drumming, playing in bands, still trying to make it happen instead of anything resembling a sensible career. Daniela's a nerd. Always has been, in whatever form that's taken — degrees, businesses, whatever she's turned her brain to next. Two people who, on paper, had no business starting a coffee company together.
They met, got married, and somewhere in between talking about the future, Tom mentioned he'd always wanted to roast coffee and run a business one day — with absolutely no idea how he'd actually do it. Daniela did what Daniela does: took it seriously, and said, "right, we start here." She led the way from that conversation through to actually getting Gallus registered as a business.
Neither of them knew the coffee trade. So they leaned on a friendship in Colombia that goes back twenty years — long before Gallus, long before coffee was even a plan — to learn the trade from people who actually understood it. That relationship is still where Gallus sources its green coffee today, from farms across Colombia, chosen and trusted the same way they always have been.
None of this is a supplier relationship we're dressing up as something warmer. It's the other way round — the friendship came first, by about two decades, and the coffee business grew out of it.
What hasn't changed since day one: everything gets tasted before it ships. Tom cups every batch, checks every roast for consistency, and if it doesn't meet the bar, it doesn't go out. That won't change if Gallus gets bigger. It won't change if someone else ends up doing the actual roasting one day. Tom still tastes it first.
One of our regulars told us we'd ruined coffee for him — nothing else compares anymore. Someone who doesn't even drink coffee tried ours at a festival and said, "it's not disgusting." Tom's dad said it "tastes fine." Around here, that's basically a standing ovation.