In Silicon Valley, coffee can feel like a necessity. Chain favorites like Verve and Blue Bottle function as caffeine plugs for engineers. Even on Stanford’s campus, students have their pick of three on-campus Coupa Cafes, not to mention the fan-favorite Voyager Cafe.

But if you travel a little farther from the heart of Palo Alto, you’ll find a true hidden gem: an independent, Korean-owned cafe located inside the Baylands Nature Preserve between a golf course and a municipal airport. 

At 7:15 a.m. most mornings, Hanna Joo — co-owner of Cloud9 Coffee — pulls into the parking lot, finds a spot along the airport fence, ties her hair into a practical bun and walks towards the row of rustic storefronts. Born in Seoul, South Korea, her childhood took a trans-Atlantic detour when she was only 7. Her family moved to Paris before eventually settling in the coastal French city of Caen.  

She traces days spent on the coast of Caen to her forever fondness for nature. “There’s water over there,” she said, gesturing towards the Baylands preserve from Cloud9’s patio. “It’s perfect.”

Growing up in France would forge another lifelong love. Joo began drinking coffee on a regular basis during high school, usually enjoying an espresso after lunch. “Among friends, you would say, on prend un verre, which means to go for a drink,” she said, in this case referring to a non-alcoholic beverage. “It’s like a habit.” 

For the French, coffee is a daily necessity. But in South Korea, cafe culture pays close attention to aesthetics, cultivating a beautiful atmosphere with an Instagrammable aesthetic. 

Joo explained her dream in a coffee shop: her Korean-French background marries an honest love of coffee with a warm atmosphere and rustic aesthetic. But none of it would’ve been possible without her unexpected friend-turned-future-business partner.

Elizabeth Kim, a former injection nurse from South Korea, had been living in Mountain View for over 10 years when Joo arrived in 2011. She had always been skilled with her hands, which aided her work as a nurse. After retiring and becoming a mother, Kim committed more time to hands-on crafts: making jewelry, pottery and floral arrangements.

They met when Joo began attending Kim’s church. Despite their generational age gap, they became fast friends.

Nine years later, their lives were upended by the virus that swept the world. During the long period of distance that followed, the families formed a COVID-19 pod. “During COVID, we could only meet three families at a time,” Kim said. “Every Saturday, Hanna’s family would come over for dinner. We kept this up for almost a year.”

Throughout the pandemic, the duo would spend time gardening together or going on long walks. Joo frequently paid visits to the Baylands Nature Preserve, pushing her 1-year-old daughter in a stroller. That was when she saw it — a “For Lease” sign in front of a store on the leftmost corner of an L-shaped row of shops. 

What if the Baylands had a place where people could sit, drink coffee and just enjoy nature? 

More than 10 years of friendship later, Joo still struggles to describe the type of person that Kim is. Their relationship is so complex, so full, that it’s hard to find the words. But perhaps the best character portrait is the moment that Joo told her, “I think I’m interested in running a coffee shop.”

Kim’s eyes sparkled. That day, she emerged from her retirement as if from hibernation — signing on as a co-owner.

First, there was the matter of acquiring the skills. Neither of the women had any experience in the restaurant, or even cafe, business. They enrolled in barista classes based in the Bay Area, learning cafe fundamentals from local roasteries. (“Koreans are really good at gathering certifications,” Joo added.)

Then, there was the necessary investment in an espresso machine. As it turned out, their gleaming La Marzocco would prove to be the ultimate teacher. Some mornings, the machine was so inconsistent, Joo wondered if it was faulty. But each misfire taught them something vital about pressure and patience.

They opted for soft openings announced to friends and family only instead of a grand affair. But to Joo and Kim’s surprise, people came anyway. 

Joo, modest by nature, said that they didn’t have the skills to serve “lattes with tulips or anything.” But the shop — with its rustic, homemade appeal — had something special to it. A steady flow of customers proved it. 

One month later came the penultimate moment in this soft launch phase: Airport Day.

They had been told by the next-door flying club that Airport Day was a community event boasting aircraft displays, tarmac tours and food trucks. They signed up for what they thought would be a modest booth, with hopes of serving free samples and maybe making a few sales to plane enthusiasts. 

“7,000 people came that day,” Joo said, still in disbelief.

The Cloud9 booth and store were quickly overrun with Airport Day attendees, many of whom were charmed by the unexpected coffee shop in the Baylands. The shop had a line out the door that looped around the perimeter. Inside, it was chaos.

The Cloud9 staff — Joo, Kim and two new hires — sprinted between the booth and the shop, ferrying pitchers of cold brew and stacks of cups. “Hand me this! Hand me that!” they shouted across the shop. Within four hours, they had depleted every last bag of beans.

After surviving what had felt like an initiation, the young cafe opened its doors to the world.

Present day

It’s 2 p.m. on a Friday, meaning Cloud9 is an hour from closing. When I arrive at the cafe, the line still reaches the door.

Customers mingle beneath the exposed wooden beams, chatting amicably as they wait for their drinks. Some of them peruse the shelves adorned with pottery, jewelry, store merchandise and more. This, I know, is Kim’s work: some of it her own, and the rest curated with her artistic eye.

Both the high bar and 10-person oak table are nearly filled. After placing my order for an egg avocado tartine, I take a seat at the oak table. On my left, a boy nibbles on a strawberry whipped cream croffle. Across from me, a girl has set up her laptop stand. Everybody is a stranger to each other — and yet, the table creates an intimate co-working experience.

“I’m an interior designer, and my husband is an architect. So creating a place was one of the main thoughts behind creating the coffee shop,” Joo once told me. “People want community. People want a space where they can really gather and talk. More than just the coffee, we wanted to create that communal space.”

It was at one of the outdoor tables that Joo, Kim and I sat down to talk about Cloud9. We discussed the recent tariffs, with Kim not wanting to discuss it at all and Joo lamenting that “eggs, avocados and all our supplies have been going up so much.” But in its two years of operating, their signature “Cloudy” latte maintains its $6 price. 

The owners haven’t changed, either. “We come every morning. We open. We grind the first shot of espresso. And I think that’s kind of a privilege that we didn’t expect to happen ever,” Joo says, eyes gleaming. “You taste the shot, play your favorite music and think to yourself: This is the perfect place to be.”