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An Inspired Chat with Matt Berry of Big Lake

Matt Berry shared their story and experiences with us recently and you can find our conversation below.

Matt, a huge thanks to you for investing the time to share your wisdom with those who are seeking it. We think it’s so important for us to share stories with our neighbors, friends and community because knowledge multiples when we share with each other. Let’s jump in: What’s the most surprising thing you’ve learned about your customers?
Last week, a regular came in for her usual—a 12-ounce latte with oat milk.
We know her order by heart.

But instead of taking it to go like she always does, she lingered at the counter. She told us she had just driven nearly two hours to get here. Not because there wasn’t coffee closer to home, but because her husband swears ours is the only coffee worth drinking. She laughed and said she’s “just the delivery service.”

A few days earlier, another customer admitted he doesn’t drink coffee at all. Every month, he picks up a few bags for friends. He said it’s become a tradition—something they all look forward to.

And then there’s the quiet man who comes in every Saturday. He once told us his favorite part isn’t the coffee. It’s the three minutes of friendly conversation while his drink is being made.

We’ve learned that our customers love quality—and they value the difference. They’re the kind of people we set out to celebrate: warm, gritty, non-pretentious, approachable. They create memories around coffee, weaving it into their lives in ways we never imagined.

We spend so much time perfecting our roasts and sourcing the best beans. But moments like these remind us—what our customers remember most isn’t always in the cup. It’s how they feel when they walk through our doors.

Can you briefly introduce yourself and share what makes you or your brand unique?
I’m Matt Berry, co-owner of Ember Coffee in Big Lake, Minnesota. We’re a specialty coffee roastery and café built on a simple idea—serve exceptional coffee without the pretension.

We air-roast all our beans, a method that produces a cleaner, more consistent flavor while letting each origin’s unique character shine. We source ethically, roast with care, and focus just as much on how people feel when they walk through our doors as we do on what’s in their cup.

What makes Ember special isn’t just the coffee—it’s the people. Our customers are warm, gritty, and approachable. They value quality, they notice the difference, and they create memories around coffee. That’s who we celebrate every day.

My journey into coffee started long before Ember, but it’s been shaped by a deep love for craftsmanship, community, and doing things differently. I believe a café should be more than a place to grab caffeine—it should be a place where you feel welcome, where stories are shared, and where quality is never compromised.

Right now, we’re growing our wholesale partnerships, expanding community events, and telling the stories behind every roast. We’re also investing in education—helping other café owners and baristas through our Coffeeshop Collective community. Whether it’s a new customer walking in for their first latte or a wholesale partner serving our beans hundreds of miles away, our mission is the same: create exceptional coffee experiences that connect people.

Thanks for sharing that. Would love to go back in time and hear about how your past might have impacted who you are today. Who taught you the most about work?
The person who’s taught me the most about work is my dad—the hardest working man I know.

Growing up in California, I watched him spend long, brutal days on hot roofs under the summer sun. He’d come home sunburned and exhausted, sit down for dinner with the family, then pour himself a massive bowl of cereal. Within minutes, he’d be stretched out on the living room floor, asleep before the credits rolled on whatever was on TV. And then, the next day, he’d get up and do it all over again.

He never complained. Not once. He was always moving, always working, always finding a way to keep going. It wasn’t just about providing—it was about showing up, no matter what. His quiet, steady example built my understanding of what commitment really looks like.

That hasn’t changed. These days, he’s at Ember a few times a week. He’s usually the first one there, unlocking the doors before anyone else arrives. And more often than not, he’s the hardest one working—hauling bags of green coffee, cleaning, fixing, organizing—whatever needs doing.

From him, I learned that work isn’t about titles or recognition. It’s about doing the job well, taking pride in it, and caring enough to keep showing up. His deep love and unwavering commitment—to his family, his work, and now to this little coffee shop of ours—have shaped everything I believe about what it means to work hard.

Is there something you miss that no one else knows about?
I miss the days before social media.

Life felt more analog, more grounded. You could do something well simply because it mattered to you—not because you had to post it. There was less pressure to perform, fewer invisible scoreboards measuring likes, engagement, and views.

Don’t get me wrong, I see the value in sharing our work and connecting with people online. But sometimes I worry we’re sacrificing craft for content. That we’re rushing to capture the perfect reel instead of fully being in the moment, or taking the extra time to perfect the thing itself.

I miss when the work could just stand on its own—quietly, confidently—without needing to be filtered, captioned, and broadcast.

So a lot of these questions go deep, but if you are open to it, we’ve got a few more questions that we’d love to get your take on. What would your closest friends say really matters to you?
I don’t have a big circle of close friends. My closest and best friend is my wife, and she knows me better than anyone.

She’d probably tell you I care deeply about integrity—doing what you say you’re going to do, even when it’s inconvenient. Consistency matters to me, too. I believe in showing up the same way, day after day, regardless of who’s watching. And I value humility. I’d rather let the work speak for itself than try to impress anyone.

On the flip side, I have a hard time with arrogance or flashiness. That kind of self-importance turns me off instantly. I think the best people—and the best work—are usually the ones that don’t need to shout about themselves.

Okay, so before we go, let’s tackle one more area. What do you think people will most misunderstand about your legacy?
I think the thing people might misunderstand about my legacy is that it’s not about money, fame, or recognition.

I used to want those things. I thought success meant being known, being seen, having my name attached to something big. But over time, that’s shifted. Now, I’m more at peace with hiddenness. I don’t need the spotlight to feel like my life matters.

What I really want is to live with integrity—to have my kids look back and know I was consistent, that I kept my word, that I loved them well. If you see me on camera or out front, it’s not because I need attention. It’s because I’m doing what I can to drive the business forward for the people it supports.

When I’m gone, I don’t care if most people don’t remember my name. I care if my kids remember how I lived.

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