Jiro Dreams of Sushi was released in 2011. I watched it when it first came out, then again a few years later, and then again after that. At some point I stopped counting. I return to it now and then. Not because I’m especially devoted to sushi. I am. But that’s not the point. It’s because of the way Jiro worked.
When the documentary was made, Jiro Ono was already in his mid-eighties. By then, he had spent most of his life behind the same small counter in Tokyo, serving a handful of guests at a time. He didn’t expand his menu or diversify his offering. His work was built on repetition, refinement, and discipline. In other words, restraint.
He narrowed his focus instead of widening it. He accepted that mastery would come from doing fewer things, again and again, until nothing unnecessary remained. His confidence came from knowing where to stop.
I thought about Jiro as Sonam explained his coffee to me.
The pressure to be loud
Like most trade shows, World of Coffee moves quickly. The hall is full, conversations overlap, machines run without pause. Coffees are introduced with backstories, tasting notes, and context. All delivered before the cup even reaches your hand. Every booth is competing for attention, and urgency becomes part of the performance.
And because of all of that noise, you notice when something isn’t shouting. Restraint becomes visible.
That is what happened when I ordered a flat white from The Chronicle.

The flat white
Sonam handed me the drink without much explanation. There was no framing and no guidance. It was served as a flat white, and nothing else.
What struck me was how composed it was. The coffee sat comfortably in the milk. Sweetness was clear but controlled. The texture felt measured. The finish closed neatly. It tasted like a dessert. While I sipped I noticed the tasting notes on the bag: banana bread, butterscotch ice cream, and caramel. Exactly.
Milk coffee is an unforgiving test, particularly in settings like this. If the coffee lacks structure, it disappears. If it is overbuilt, the drink just does too much. This one avoided both outcomes, which suggested that it had been chosen and roasted with a clear understanding of service rather than display. Think about that for a second. Think about the mind of Sonam Sherpa.

The Chronicle
Sonam is the former national AeroPress champion. That title never came up. All I could see was his passion for what he is building. And when he spoke about The Chronicle, he spoke as someone building a coffee business meant to function in the real world.
At its core, The Chronicle is a coffee company that works closely with cafés. It sources and roasts coffees, both single origins and blends, with a clear focus on how those coffees will actually be served. The goal is not to impress on a cupping table, but to perform consistently in day-to-day service, particularly in milk-based drinks.
Finally, a coffee business with its priorities straight.
Beyond supplying coffee, The Chronicle supports cafés through consultation and SCA-certified training. That support is practical. It covers barista training, menu decisions, and helping café owners make choices that suit their customers and their businesses, rather than chasing trends.

Confidence without amplification
Watching Jiro Dreams of Sushi reminds me that confidence doesn’t need expansion. Jiro did not add more to prove his mastery. He refined what was already there.
Standing in the middle of World of Coffee Dubai, surrounded by raised voices and urgent explanations, that flat white from The Chronicle carried the same posture. It didn’t ask for attention. And it didn’t require persuasion.
A reminder that restraint is not absence. It is choice.
Discover more from FLTR Magazine
Subscribe to get the latest posts sent to your email.






