The Legend of the Singular Plume

DISCLAIMER: Based on Aesop’s "The Peacock and Juno." We have kept the core lesson (don't be greedy) but adjusted the dialogue, mostly because the original Peacock was a bit of a whiner and Juno was surprisingly unhelpful for a deity.

There was once a Peacock who, despite being the most magnificent bird in the aviary, was deeply insecure.

He marched up to Juno, the Queen of the Gods (who was busy trying to manage the universe and really didn't have time for this), and lodged a formal complaint.

"It isn't fair," the Peacock squawked. "The Nightingale has a voice of gold. When he sings, the humans weep with joy. But when I open my beak, I sound like a rusty gate being forced open by a confused goose. I want the voice of the Nightingale."

Juno looked down at the Peacock. He was shimmering in iridescent blues and greens. He had a tail that looked like a thousand eyes watching a sunset. He was, frankly, a bit much.

"You want to sing?" Juno asked, raising an eyebrow. "You are walking around wearing the equivalent of a crown jewels heist, and you are upset that you can't also drop a top-charting ballad?"

"Yes," the Peacock said. "I want to be the total package."

Juno sighed. "Listen well, you vain creature. The Nightingale is brown and small. He hides in the bushes because if he came out, no one would look twice. His voice is his gift. Your gift is that you are impossible to ignore. You are big, you are bright, and you are beautiful. If I gave you the voice, too, the other birds would unionize out of jealousy."

(Okay, she probably said "Fate has assigned each a lot," but our version cuts to the chase: You can't be everything to everyone. You have to pick a lane.)

The Peacock fanned his tail, considered the logic, and strutted away. He still couldn't sing, but he realized that being the center of attention was a pretty good consolation prize.

The Moral of the Story

Stop trying to be the Nightingale if you were built to be the Peacock.

Some things are meant to be subtle and sweet. Others are meant to be loud, bright, and unapologetically flashy.

Meet the Blend: The Singular Plume

Inspired by the bird that refuses to blend in, The Singular Plume is a light roast that doesn't care if you think coffee should taste like "burnt toast."

It is a floral bomb. It is not trying to be a subtle morning cup; it is trying to show off. We combined three distinct beans (Ethiopia Sidamo, Kenya AA, and Costa Rica Tarrazu) to create a flavor profile that is as loud and colorful as a tail feather:

• Black Currant: Sharp, wine-like, and sophisticated.

• Berry Jam: A sweetness that hits you right in the beak.

• Golden Honey: A structured, clean finish to balance the acidity.

It isn't a dark, moody background singer. It’s the main event.