More Than One Shop

Recently, a customer made a comment about us being “just one shop.” 

It wasn’t meant kindly — there was an implication that somehow, we were less. Inferior. 

And it got me thinking… 

Does having multiple locations really make a business more credible? More successful? 

Over the years, we’ve been told countless times that we should expand. Open more shops. Franchise. Grow bigger. And yes — we’ve thought about it. 

But the truth is, our Soho shop keeps us more than busy enough. It keeps us on our toes. And we’re incredibly grateful to say it’s thriving. 

So what exactly is wrong with being one shop — and doing that well? 

Because what people truly love about our shop isn’t just the fresh coffee. 

It’s the history. 

The original counter. 

The old shelves. 

The shop window that’s seen decades pass by. 

And, of course, the family behind it all. 

If we were to branch out — go bigger, bolder — would we lose that essence? 

I suppose it depends on the business. But if you walked into Algerian Coffee Stores in another city, would it be the same. You wouldn’t see us behind the counter. You wouldn’t step into a space filled with years of stories, with history worn into every surface. 

It would be new. Different. 

So much of what makes us who we are is rooted in that personal, familiar approach. Our family has been running the shop for 80 years now, and on some days, you’ll even find three generations behind the counter, quietly keeping it all going. It’s in the small moments you see; grinding spices in our little grinder, weighing out teas, packing parcels. Preparing everything in a way that feels real, not rushed. 

If all of that had to be scaled up to supply multiple branches… would it still feel the same? 

Would it become just another mass-produced product? 

Or maybe that doesn’t matter to some. 

Maybe all that matters is consistency — the same recipe, the same taste, the same beans. 

But for us, it’s more than that. 

I remember, as a child, coming to work and being taken to Patisserie Valerie for a croissant. We knew the family, and they knew us. There was something comforting in that — something real. 

When they sold the business and it expanded rapidly, it changed. It no longer felt the same. Everything became more distant; it was just a brand. And, if I’m honest, the quality didn’t feel quite as it once was. 

Growth doesn’t always mean improvement. Sometimes, it means letting go of the very things people fell in love with in the first place. 

That’s what people connect with. Not just the product — but the people, the rituals, the feeling.  

There’s often a certain rhythm in businesses like this — maybe not perfect, maybe not polished, but real. Perhaps “chaos” isn’t quite the right word. Maybe it’s heart. They’re family-run, by people with families. Sometimes the day starts a little later because the school run didn’t quite go to plan. Sometimes things run behind because life simply happens. 

But doesn’t that make it feel more human? 
And for me, that’s exactly what makes me love places like that even more. 

And that’s what we hold onto. 

Because for us, it’s not just about selling coffee or tea. It’s about the experience of it — the conversation across the counter, the smell of freshly roasted coffee, the small, imperfect, human moments that can’t be replicated at scale. 

Could we expand? Possibly. 

Would it still feel like us? I’m not so sure. Maybe there’s simply too much history rooted in 52 Old Compton Street — or perhaps, too much heart.  

Of course, there are businesses that grow and manage to keep the soul intact. But that balance is rare — and it requires letting go of a level of closeness that, for us, is everything. 

So for now, we choose to stay as we are. 

One shop. 
One space. 
One story — still being written, day by day, behind the same counter. 

And that’s not something to apologise for. 

It’s something to be proud of.