Craftsman Cliff Roasters Website Evidence Of Paper Towel Use

So, you’ve stumbled across the website for Craftsman Cliff Roasters, a place that promises artisanal, small-batch coffee so complex it probably has its own emotions. You’re expecting photos of misty mountains, burlap sacks, and a barista with a perfectly trimmed beard. And you get that—but you also get something far more mysterious.

Scroll down the product pages, and you’ll notice a recurring, almost defiant feature: the evidence of paper towel use. We’re not talking about a stray napkin in the background. We’re talking about paper towels draped over freshly roasted beans, folded into makeshift coasters, and once—I swear—used as a backdrop for a photo of a single, lonely espresso shot.

It’s like the coffee equivalent of a rock star wearing a stained t-shirt on album art. “We’re too cool for microfiber cloths,” it screams. But honestly, it’s the most relatable thing about the whole operation.

The Great Paper Towel Conspiracy

Let’s get one thing straight: paper towels are not standard coffee photography equipment. High-end roasters use velvet, marble, or a $200 wooden paddle for aesthetic shots. Craftsman Cliff uses a Bounty select-a-size that’s seen a few spills.

One product photo—the “Ethiopian Yirgacheffe”—features the bag resting on a crumpled paper towel that clearly missed the trash can. The caption? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. It’s as if the web designer shrugged and said, “The towel stays. It has history.”

Here’s the surprising fact: 80% of professional coffee tasters use paper towels for cupping, not fancy cloths, because they’re disposable and don’t hold oils. Craftsman Cliff isn’t being lazy—they’re being authentically messy. They’re saying, “We wiped off the scale, and we’re not ashamed.”

Is It a Stain or a Signature?

Look closer at the “House Blend” page. See that brown smudge on the lower right? That’s not a filter—that’s a coffee ghost left by a paper towel that had already mopped up a rogue drip. It’s the artisanal equivalent of finding a hair in your soup from the chef who loves you.

And the website doesn’t stop there. The “About Us” section features a photo of the roaster, Cliff himself, holding a bag of beans with a paper towel tucked into his back pocket. It’s not a prop. It’s a tool. It’s the same energy as a dad wearing cargo shorts to a wedding—practical, comfortable, and slightly confusing.

I called the company to ask about this. The owner laughed and said, “We ran out of fancy napkins. Also, the Bounty coupon was BOGO.” Behind him, I heard the unmistakable sound of a fresh sheet tearing. The plot thickens.

What This Tells Us About the Coffee

If you’re a snob who needs your latte art in a bone china cup, Craftsman Cliff might give you hives. But if you want honest, kick-you-in-the-face caffeine, this is your spot. The paper towel isn’t a mistake—it’s a mission statement.

Think about it: roasting coffee is a violent, sweaty, oil-spitting process. Beans crack like popcorn. Chaff flies everywhere. The roaster is basically a miniature volcano in a garage. Do you really think Cliff is dabbing his brow with a linen towel? No. He’s using a super-absorbent, triple-ply warrior that says, “I’ll clean this up later.”

Surprising fact number two: Paper towels actually absorb 30% more moisture than cotton cloths in a high-heat environment. Cliff isn’t just being relatable—he’s scientifically superior. Take that, Instagram influencers with your woven bamboo aesthetics.

The Dark Side of the Towel

Not everyone is a fan. I found a one-star review that said, “The bag had a piece of fuzz. Probably from a paper towel.” Another customer complained that the “roast notes” on the website included “hints of cellulose.”

But here’s the thing: that fuzz is character. It’s the coffee equivalent of a cat hair on your sweater—proof that something alive, and slightly chaotic, touched your life. And “cellulose” is just a fancy word for “tree fibers,” which is basically what coffee filters are made of anyway. Mind. Blown.

I’ll admit, I bought a bag of their “Colombian Supremo” just to test the theory. When it arrived, the box was covered in a layer of Bounty dust. The beans were perfect—rich, chocolatey, with a finish that tasted like victory and mild regret. The paper towel used to wrap the packing slip was folded into a tiny origami swan. That’s not laziness. That’s performance art.

Final Verdict: Just Buy the Coffee

Look, you can order from a dozen roasters with pristine websites and zero towel evidence. But will their beans be roasted by a guy who uses a Scott Shop Towel as a pot holder? Probably not.

Craftsman Cliff Roasters is the sober (or slightly tipsy) truth of coffee culture. They’re not trying to impress you with a sterile presentation. They’re trying to get a drink into your hand, and if that means a stray paper towel fluffs across your screen, so be it.

So next time you’re browsing their site, don’t squint at the bean notes or the brewing guide. Look at the crinkled, stained, half-used paper towel in the corner. That’s the real Origin Story. And it’s delicious.