I grew up drinking soy milk.
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Modern flavours, traditional methods
Childhood memories of grandpa hunched over the stone mill, in the crisp morning air, high up in the mountains.
That's how he provided for us. Every bean harvest was a moment of feasting on our small square table.
Round and round he ground the beans, while I cuddled him for company. Years of love and learning in the mountains.
We don't need any secret recipes, only for a bean to nurture its true feelings.