I knew I needed SPROGO in the car, driving my daughter to pre-school, holding a 14oz white ceramic mug and thinking: this cup is stupid.
It was too big. It did not fit in the cupholder. I was nursing four ounces of espresso in a mug built for a bowl of soup, sloshing it at every stop sign, because that was the only thing my kitchen had to offer that morning.
So I got home and went looking for the obvious fix. A small, to-go espresso cup. Something made for the way I actually drink coffee.
Amazon: nothing. Google: nothing.
So I texted a friend — a fellow coffee addict, the kind of guy who takes this seriously — and said: “I can't find a to-go espresso cup. Do you think it would be hard to invent one?”
That text is the reason this blog exists.
Spoiler: it was, in fact, hard to invent one. Years hard. Patent-and-a-shipping-container-of-glass hard. But that's a story for another post.
Who's writing this
I should introduce myself. I'm Josh. I'm a dad of three, I have a full-time job running security operations for a live entertainment company, and somewhere in the cracks of all that I founded SPROGO — a patented reusable espresso to-go cup. 4.5 ounces, double-wall glass, fits the cupholder that 14oz mug never could. I also, somewhere in there, finished an MBA, mostly with Goldfish crumbs in my keyboard.
I'm not a barista. I'm not a coffee scientist. I'm a guy who loves his morning cup more than is probably reasonable, and who got annoyed enough at one bad cup to spend years fixing it.
The idea behind The Shot
Here's the idea behind this blog.
Most coffee content is one of two things. It's either gear reviews and brew ratios written for people who already own a $900 espresso machine, or it's wellness fluff telling you coffee is secretly killing you, then secretly saving you, depending on the week.
I wanted something in between. Honest, specific writing about coffee and the life around it — the part where you're trying to get three kids out the door and still protect the one quiet cup that starts your day.
Here's what you'll actually get here:
1. The honest health stuff. What coffee really does to your sleep, your focus, your cortisol, your gut — with the actual findings, not the scary headline. I'll tell you where the science is solid and where it's just somebody guessing. The first one, on coffee and cortisol, lands next week. I do a terrible job following its advice. I'll explain.
2. Founder's fuel. How I actually structure a day that's full before 8 AM. The real version — the unglamorous, packing-boxes-on-a-holiday version — not the highlight reel.
3. The occasional honest take. Where coffee culture is going, what's overrated, what the industry won't say out loud. Stated plainly. You're welcome to disagree with me.
If any of that sounds like your kind of thing, get on the list at sprogo.com. I send a note now and then with the stuff I think is actually worth your time — and you'll be first to read each post.
What the cup taught me
Here's what I've figured out building this thing. The cup was never really about the cup. It was about respecting the ritual. Four ounces of something good, drunk on purpose, in the middle of a morning that is otherwise complete chaos. That tiny window matters more than its size suggests.
SPROGO came from one annoyed drive to pre-school. This blog comes from the same place — the belief that the small daily things deserve to be done right.
So here's my ask. Wherever you're reading this, go make your next cup the way you actually want it. Small, hot, yours. Pay a little attention to it.
And if you've ever held a mug in your car and thought “this is stupid” — you're in the right place. Pull up a chair. The coffee's good here.
First up next week: “Coffee and Cortisol: Why You're Drinking at the Wrong Time.”
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