In the gentle embrace of Berlin’s Köpenick, where lakes ripple like soft secrets and ancient oaks stand sentinel, Gabor Mordy Jakab—Mordy to a few old souls—has found his rhythm at 45. His days hum with a purpose that feels alive, not frantic, a balance he’s clawed his way to after years of searching. He works in coffee’s orbit, connecting small shops and brew enthusiasts across continents.
“I’m learning to hear people, to really hear them,”
Gabor Mordy Jakab
Mordy (@coffee_by_mordy) reflects, his voice thick with the weight of growth. His role demands he bridge passion and heart, a challenge that keeps him sharp yet soft. “It’s about building something real,” he says, gazing out at the water’s edge. His 2025 is a whirlwind—London Coffee Festival in May, pop-ups with friends in Korea, Taiwan, and Shanghai’s Chinese Coffee Festival by October. Yet, Köpenick anchors him. His daughter is his light, her laughter weaving through their quiet moments. They wander forest paths, her small hand in his, collecting pinecones for crafts. “This place, this life—it’s ours,” he murmurs, dreaming of a sun-drenched beach where time slows. Here, surrounded by green, Mordy breathes deeply, free from the cages of his youth.
Mordy was once a busy man working with stars, racing through movie sets where stress was the air he breathed. Now, his busy life is different—grounded, not consuming. Back then, the grind scorched his soul, leaving him hollow; today, community and clarity fuel him. The difference? Purpose over chaos. He’s not chasing fame but weaving threads of connection, from Shanghai’s vibrant cafes to Berlin’s quiet corners.
Gabor Mordy Jakab
“I’m busy, but I’m breathing,”
Rewind to 2021, and Mordy was stepping into Berlin’s raw pulse, fresh from the Netherlands. He joined Populus Coffee, diving into production planning and roasting, a craft he barely knew. “I was upfront—I’m no roaster, but I’m all in,” he recalls, a grin in his voice. His Budapest friends, now owners, took a chance on him, guiding him to unlock flavors from beans. “It’s science, it’s art,” he says, still awed by the alchemy. He’d spend hours tweaking roast profiles, the roaster’s hum a meditative drone.
Go back to 2014, and Mordy was forging a new self in Budapest. Burned out from the movie industry, where he wrangled actors and deadlines behind cameras, he was adrift. The chaos of film sets—screaming directors, endless takes—had drained him. A barista job at a small cafe sparked something unexpected.
“I poured my first latte, and it felt… alive,”
he says. The rhythm of the espresso machine, the chatter of regulars—it pulled him back. Soon, he opened his own coffee shop, a cozy haven where locals lingered over steaming cups. He’d rise at dawn to roast beans, the scent filling the air, then serve pour-overs, swapping stories with patrons. “It wasn’t the coffee—it was the people,” he says.
The 2020-2021 pandemic was Mordy’s crucible. With the world shuttered, fear kept people apart. “It was so easy to lose yourself,” he says, the isolation still raw. Online, he found salvation, connecting with I’M NOT A BARISTA and Micky to start the #BrewAtHome campaign. From a few hundred hashtags, it soared to over 200,000, uniting coffee lovers across continents. “We were alone, but not really,” he reflects. That community—raw, real—held him when the world felt unmoored, showing him coffee’s deeper magic: connection in chaos.
But social media’s light dimmed post-pandemic. Endless scrolling overwhelmed Mordy, pulling him from the life he loved. He’d lie awake, phone glowing, feeling empty despite thousands of followers. “It wasn’t me anymore,” he says. In 2021, he quit Instagram for six months, reeling from the pressure.
“A brand sent a 30-euro brewer and wanted four posts a day,”
he scoffs, shaking his head. Losing followers stung, but it freed him. The platform, once a vibrant community, became a hamster wheel of influencers hawking knockoffs.
“It’s dangerous. Cheap gear misleads people, just like co-fermented coffees can ruin a farmer’s harvest. Social media’s shift to commercialization broke its soul…I saw people I respected pushing junk, It’s not about coffee now—it’s about free stuff, clout,”
he laments. The betrayal cut deep—friends turned influencers, prioritizing gear over passion, eroding trust in the coffee world. “I post what I love, nothing else,” he vows, his feed now a quiet ode to real moments—his daughter’s smile, a perfect pour.
Mordy’s heart beats for community. “It’s why I’m still here,” he says, resolute. From Budapest’s bustling shop to Shanghai’s vibrant cafes, coffee taught him to find what sets his soul ablaze. Whether brewing in Köpenick or touring with Orea’s team, his journey—through burnout, balance, and bonds—shows coffee’s true power. “Surround yourself with good people, and you’ll thrive,” he urges, the coffee world’s heartbeat. A cup isn’t just a drink; it’s a bridge to something deeper, a call to live fully, fiercely, together. Brew your own story, join the community.
What’s Your Coffee Story?
