Alaska News

Lattes behind bars: Barista training at Alaska prison paves way for jobs on the outside

Maggie Anvil had never worked as a barista before, but after starting at Holy Grounds coffee shop inside Hiland Mountain Correctional Center in Eagle River, she now hopes it's something she can do long-term.

Anvil, 39, even hopes to open her own cafe when she finishes her sentence at the women's correctional facility. She'd call it "Maggie's Kuviaq," the Yup'ik word for coffee in her hometown of Napaskiak.

Anvil, who's spent almost a decade in Hiland on a second-degree murder conviction, is the assistant manager at Holy Grounds. She's been there since June and is in charge of scheduling the 10 to 12 women who work there. She said she's learned a lot -- and received some high praise for her work.

"A guy said it's the best coffee he's ever had," said Anvil, who expects to be released next year.

In an effort to get even better, Anvil and 13 other inmates participated in a barista training program at the prison earlier this month. Chaplain Franklin Blodgett, who runs the program, said the goal is to give women a practical work skill they can use once they leave. Especially with coffee vendors on nearly every Anchorage street corner.

"There are a lot of jobs that close when they're convicted felons," Blodgett said. "But (barista) is one of those jobs they can get."

The recent training course, led by Kaladi Brothers Coffee instructor Edward Mesick, covered everything from how to properly grind and brew espresso to how to steam the milk without burning it.

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But Mesick also offered other advice that wasn't so technical.

"What's hard about being a barista is interacting with people," he told the women, who gathered around the espresso machine to watch his instruction.

"I can't make you nicer and more personable," he said. "But I can try."

A sought-after job

Holy Grounds is now in its seventh year of operation, according to Blodgett, who runs Hiland Mountain's Transformational Living Community, a faith-based therapeutic rehabilitation program.

The coffee shop brings in about $2,000 a month, he said, all of which goes toward paying for the faith-based program. The cafe is open six days a week, from 6:30 a.m. to 9:30 a.m. Monday through Friday and from 11 a.m. to 1:30 p.m. on Saturday it's only open to prisoners -- who can purchase drinks with their commissary funds -- and staff during the week, though it occasionally opens for events held inside the facility.

The shop is located in House 5, which served as the women's prison when Hiland had both male and female populations. It has a small kitchen that became redundant when the prison transitioned to women-only, which Blodgett turned into the coffee shop.

It has everything the average coffee kiosk has -- dozens of syrup flavors, a professional grinder, stainless steel pitchers of all sizes to steam milk. There's also a 1997 espresso machine Blodgett purchased at a reduced cost. The machine isn't fancy, he admitted, but it's a good training tool for the women.

"Whatever coffee shop they go to, (using the machine) won't be as hard," he said.

Blodgett said the job is desirable among the inmates because the women get paid in coffee. For three hours of work they earn a 16-ounce cup of coffee worth $1.25, with additions like a shot of syrup or a specialty coffee for the more cumulative days they work. Since the starting wage for inmates is 30 cents an hour, a cup of coffee can be worth more than double what a worker could make at another job.

Fighting recidivism

Hiland isn't the only Alaska correctional facility with an inmate-run barista program. Both McLaughlin Youth Center in Anchorage and Johnson Youth Center in Juneau have similar training programs.

Russ Blocker, juvenile justice unit supervisor at McLaughlin, said the training is just another piece in transitioning youth back into the community. He said last year 33 people went through the program, with 23 getting jobs once they left McLaughlin. Ten of those were as baristas.

"If they have a transition plan that means … whatever their plan might be, if they need a part-time job, they have a barista scenario they can fall back on," Blocker said.

Cathleen McLaughlin, director for the Anchorage Partners Reentry Center, said working as a barista is one of many jobs in Anchorage that felons can access due to a lack of background checks.

The Reentry Center is where many prisoners go once they leave correctional facilities. She said other jobs that inmates can train for in prison, like ironworking, are better-paying and more stable, but are often subject to seasonal work shifts. Barista training gives inmates a skill with wide applications in coffee-crazed Alaska.

"(It's) absolutely a leg up for finding a job," she said.

Blodgett said he often sees former inmates working at coffee shops in the community. He said the rate of returning to prison for his TLC program at Hiland -- a program many of the baristas trainees complete -- is three in 10. For the rest of the prison, it's double, with six in 10 inmates returning.

Keeping out of trouble

Rozlynne Dallas Demoski, 28, was the first inmate to try making her own latte last week. As a reward for making it through the class, each inmate was allowed to make one 16-ounce latte with a splash of flavored syrup.

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Mesick guided her through the entire process, starting with grinding the coffee and pressing it into the filter. When that was done, he guided her through steaming the milk.

Demoski squeezed her eyes shut as she plunged the steam wand into the pitcher and turned her face away from the machine in fear.

"I'm nervous," she told Mesick.

But Mesick assured her it would be OK as he pointed out where to place the wand and how to maneuver the pitcher. She opened her eyes and leaned in, watching carefully as the steam frothed the milk. She pressed a button and finished her espresso shot, adding it to her cup before topping off the drink with the steamed milk.

The latte was perfect, Mesick told her.

"Oh yeah," she told him, placing the lid on the drink. As Demoski walked away to drink her coffee, she smiled and silently mouthed, "my first coffee."

"I don't think I've ever even had a latte," she said later as she sipped the raspberry-flavored drink.

Demoski, who grew up in King Cove and Wasilla, said that making the coffee was a lot easier than she thought. She still has 18 months on her sentence, but said she'd consider being a barista when she gets out. She said she considers herself a people person who would be good at the social aspects of making coffee.

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KaSara Kilgore, 22, gets out of Hiland next month and will return to her home in Florida. She's been in the prison since March and working at the coffee shop since June. She said working at Holy Grounds marked her first real job experience.

She said when she goes home she'll try to get a job at one of the local coffee shops. Kilgore said one day she would like to open her own stand.

"It's my first time experiencing any kind of job except trouble," she said. "I need to take advantage of the opportunity."

Suzanna Caldwell

Suzanna Caldwell is a former reporter for Alaska Dispatch News and Alaska Dispatch. She left the ADN in 2017.

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