This isn't a review, so much as blatant publicity. I work for a shop that brews Broadway's beans. They're a Kansas City based roasterie that does things on a small scale, with spectacular results. They don't have the niche cred of Blue Bottle or Stumptown, or even local darlings PT's. But for my money (and I do order this stuff), Broadway is as good as anyone.
My personal favorite - as if you couldn't guess - is their Ethiopian Yirgacheffe. It's super clean, refreshing, invigorating. It's like a glass of lemonade on the front porch you probably never had. But as LeVar Burton reminded us on Reading Rainbow, don't take my word for it.
The Good Food Awards has placed Broadway's Yirgacheffe amongst their finalists. The criteria, in their words: The winners of the Good Food Award for coffee will be distinguished by exemplary flavor - sweet, clean, well developed body, balanced acidity and phenomenal aromatics. To qualify for entry, roasters and coffee farmers must emphasize fairness and transparency from seed to cup, and be using third party certified organic beans. Once again, coffee is leading the way towards sustainability.
Now there are problems with requiring third party organic beans. Mostly, there are a lot of companies doing great things with farmers who, for a number of reasons, can't get the certification. Sometimes it costs too much; sometimes there are logistical issues. But the emphasis is headed in the right direction.
This is good food - or coffee, in this case. But it's also good coffee. The taste is impeccable. But beyond that, you're supporting good people (I've met some of them, and worked with the company for a while now) who do things the right way. This isn't hipster idealizing; it's not quoting Michael Pollan and then sneaking off for a Big Mac. This is indulgence and ethics climbing in to bed together.
And I'm pretty thrilled that I get to serve it.
Showing posts with label global coffee culture. Show all posts
Showing posts with label global coffee culture. Show all posts
January 5, 2012
December 22, 2011
The Third Dimension of Making Coffee
I'm going to steal a line now, a problem which is compounded by the fact that I don't recall from whom I'm stealing. "Minimalist running is running in 3D." Or something like that. The basic point is that, even on pavement or concrete, you're more aware of your foot placement, and thus more aware of the entire experience of running. That sensory feedback, after you're attuned to it, makes the whole movement feel almost accidental or, perhaps better, inevitable. It becomes like breathing, in that stopping would take conscious effort.
Now I'm biased, on this point. I was not a runner - not really - until I stumbled in to a pair of Merrel Trail Gloves. I had thought, before that, that mediocre 5Ks were the limits of my abilities, and that running was a thing to be endured rather than enjoyed. Now, my times have dropped in to the "somewhat respectable for a recreational guy" range, and my better race performances seem inversely proportional to the amount of stuff on my feet.
But you've almost certainly heard enough about barefoot/minimalist running recently. It's an omnipresent trend, even outside of the running bubble. It's done all the good things for me that you're sick of reading about, so I'll stop here. What I will do, after several paragraphs of blustering, is bring this thing around to coffee.
The concept of "running in 3D" struck me, not just as something I actively get, but as something with pretty good crossover potential. One might do anything "in 3D", which of course, to me, leads to coffee. Minimalist runners talk about "ground feel", the rapport your feet share with the earth that informs everything else your body is doing. The point is that you put as little material as possible between yourself and the experience.
This, I think, correlates quite nicely with the growing trend in the coffee business of pour over bars. We remove the mechanical element, involve ourselves in the process, and feel how we maneuver the grounds. The extraction rate, immersion, temperature, and everything else, is up to us. And yet it's not, when at its best. When it really goes right, the whole experience becomes thoughtless. You aren't "going through the motions", as if brushing your teeth, but rather embodying the Confucian ideal of effortless action.
Of course, a certain amount of neurosis can disrupt this. A great number of would-be-barefoot runners still don't trust their body, paradoxically, and so end up fretting over the minutia of form. They don't trust their senses to give them the feedback they need, or their body to respond correctly. When we worry too much about the "right" way to do a pour over, we lose the intimacy of the preparation. It becomes a formula rather than poetry.
The ideal, then, is something like trusting the feedback your eyes and experiences give you. You know, on some level, what the slurry ought to look like, how it ought to swell and bloom and writhe. Simply make that happen, trusting what you see, and what you feel. That, I think, is preparing coffee "in 3D". It doesn't require bullshit gimmickry. Quite the opposite. It requires a stripped down connection with the activity, an immersion that leads to bliss.
Now I'm biased, on this point. I was not a runner - not really - until I stumbled in to a pair of Merrel Trail Gloves. I had thought, before that, that mediocre 5Ks were the limits of my abilities, and that running was a thing to be endured rather than enjoyed. Now, my times have dropped in to the "somewhat respectable for a recreational guy" range, and my better race performances seem inversely proportional to the amount of stuff on my feet.
But you've almost certainly heard enough about barefoot/minimalist running recently. It's an omnipresent trend, even outside of the running bubble. It's done all the good things for me that you're sick of reading about, so I'll stop here. What I will do, after several paragraphs of blustering, is bring this thing around to coffee.
The concept of "running in 3D" struck me, not just as something I actively get, but as something with pretty good crossover potential. One might do anything "in 3D", which of course, to me, leads to coffee. Minimalist runners talk about "ground feel", the rapport your feet share with the earth that informs everything else your body is doing. The point is that you put as little material as possible between yourself and the experience.
This, I think, correlates quite nicely with the growing trend in the coffee business of pour over bars. We remove the mechanical element, involve ourselves in the process, and feel how we maneuver the grounds. The extraction rate, immersion, temperature, and everything else, is up to us. And yet it's not, when at its best. When it really goes right, the whole experience becomes thoughtless. You aren't "going through the motions", as if brushing your teeth, but rather embodying the Confucian ideal of effortless action.
Of course, a certain amount of neurosis can disrupt this. A great number of would-be-barefoot runners still don't trust their body, paradoxically, and so end up fretting over the minutia of form. They don't trust their senses to give them the feedback they need, or their body to respond correctly. When we worry too much about the "right" way to do a pour over, we lose the intimacy of the preparation. It becomes a formula rather than poetry.
The ideal, then, is something like trusting the feedback your eyes and experiences give you. You know, on some level, what the slurry ought to look like, how it ought to swell and bloom and writhe. Simply make that happen, trusting what you see, and what you feel. That, I think, is preparing coffee "in 3D". It doesn't require bullshit gimmickry. Quite the opposite. It requires a stripped down connection with the activity, an immersion that leads to bliss.
September 16, 2011
Giorgio Milos, the Answers
Credentials are not the same as qualifications, no matter how often the two are equated. Expertise is not easily quantified by titles, or even at all. Having said that, it's hard to argue with Giorgio Milos' resume.
He is illycaffè's North American barista in residence, as well as an instructor at illy’s Università del Caffè. He is certified by the Specialty Coffee Association of Europe as a Master Barista and trainer. He writes about coffee for The Atlantic, and oh, won the Italian Barista Championships in 2008.
I am certified by no one, mostly self trained, write only for this blog, and have never competed in (let alone won) a barista contest. Regardless, I was asked if I might have some questions for Giorgio, and if I might like to run his responses. As it turns out, I was interested. And so here we are, after a brief exchange.
What is it about coffee that makes it such a unique social beverage?Coffee was the official drink of the Enlightenment and some of the most important artistic and cultural movements were born in the first coffee bars. This is why coffee is the perfect companion to culture and illycaffè for over twenty years has been choosing art, literature, and creativity as a whole to express its own values and its philosophy. The act of sharing a cup of coffee, the ritual behind creating it and interaction with the barista creates a social environment and encourages discussion.
Because these are topics on which I've endless interest - and because his answers are satisfying in terms of length and depth - I'm going to devote subsequent posts to examining each answer. But for now, I'll just thank Giorgio and illy both.
He is illycaffè's North American barista in residence, as well as an instructor at illy’s Università del Caffè. He is certified by the Specialty Coffee Association of Europe as a Master Barista and trainer. He writes about coffee for The Atlantic, and oh, won the Italian Barista Championships in 2008.
What makes a great barista?
Well tasting is the ultimate proof, but let me start from the beginning. If I can see behind the bar, I look at equipment quality -- everything, the machine, tamper, grinder -- and maybe even more important, how well that equipment appears to be maintained, and how clean and orderly the area is. I'll watch the barista at work and see if the basics are being handled properly, especially the extraction time for espresso, which shouldn't exceed 30 seconds for a single shot. Of course, I'll ask what brand of coffee they use -- it doesn't have to be illy! -- and see if it is stored properly, if I can. I look at presentation in the cup, where an unbroken, rich brown crema on top and a "clean cup," meaning no coffee running down the sides, I know there may be something good awaiting my palate.
What’s your favorite drink to make?
Oh, my favorite coffee drink is espresso…My everyday method is actually using illy's iperEspresso capsule system, because it creates perfect espresso in the cup every time in about 30 seconds. Portion controlled systems are where equipment is headed at home, both at the lower end for brewed coffee and at the higher end for espresso. You can't argue with what they deliver in convenience, quality and consistency, and growing numbers of our on-premise accounts are using iperEspresso for those same reasons. But I'm a traditionalist at heart, so when I have the time, I prefer grinding, tamping and pulling the old fashioned way. On weekends, I like to use my Moka pot. It reminds me of home! In the summer, I like to also drink iced espresso. I don’t use milk.
What is it about coffee that makes it such a unique social beverage?
Because these are topics on which I've endless interest - and because his answers are satisfying in terms of length and depth - I'm going to devote subsequent posts to examining each answer. But for now, I'll just thank Giorgio and illy both.
November 15, 2010
It's a Huge World, After All
There is an oft noted myth of American superiority, which persists to most all things at all times. It is noted in sports, where the American champion is called the world champion, despite having competed with no team outside of the United States - save, perhaps, the odd Canadian squad.
The San Francisco Giants won the World Series, you may, have heard, defeating the Texas Rangers to claim the title. It is worth noting that the United States has never won the fledgling World Baseball Classic, however. And so it must be said that a team from Japan, Colombia, Venezuela, or Cuba, could, in a seven game series, take four from the Giants. This is not to say that it would happen, of course. And it is worth noting, American sports - excluding soccer - tend to be the best funded, and thus attract the world's best talent.
But that example, at the end of the day, is not terribly controversial. Most accept that MLB is the world's best professional baseball league. There are other instances where that notion seems laughable, of course. Ryan Hall, the fastest American marathoner ever, would be soundly crushed by at least ten currently running Kenyans. And no one insists that the MLS champion could compete, on a weekly basis, in England's Premiere League, Spain's La Liga, or even Frances Ligue 1.
But even with those examples, there is an arrogance to be found. That is, there is a question of why Americans aren't the best, which contains the inherent supposition that America and its citizens are gifted beyond anyone else, and quite capable of ruling any competition they set their collective minds to.
People want to know what America needs to do to win the World Cup; because of course, America has the athletes to do so, they just play other sports. This is trotted out every four years, with laughable results. What if LeBron James played soccer? Or can you imagine Chris Johnson as a winger? This is an absurd, one way comparison, that assumes these sports are somehow more athletically taxing, and that the world's best soccer players couldn't have turned out to be the world's best American football, or basketball players. Who is to say, for instance, that Frank Lampard would not have been Peyton Manning, had he been born in America?
The assumption in distance running is that, either Americans don't work hard enough, or that there is some inherent advantage to running at the high altitudes of East Africa. Those two things well be true enough; but neither ought to suggest that, with the same mileage at the same altitude, the best American should be equal to the best Ethiopian.
There is this notion in coffee, as well (yes, I finally made the connection). The United States and Italy, most seem to think, drink coffee the most, and prepare it the best. Italy did it first, and America, as we've established, is though by Americans to be great at all things. And so it logically follows that the best baristi in the world must reside in those nations as well.
Simply, this is incorrect. Norway drinks, per capita, more coffee than any other nation. The next three are Scandinavian nations as well. The USA is 9th, and Italy 12th, for the record. But so what? Those countries are cold. Thus they drink more coffee. This is, simply put, not news. What of quality?
On that, Scandinavia wins as well. Granted, the World Barista Championships has only been contested since 2000; but in that time, Denmark has four winners, Norway two. Mike Phillips of Chicago did win the USA's first title last year, but no Italian Barista has ever placed in the top three, even. Australia and Great Britain have also made consistently strong showings.
Now even by my standards, this is a lengthy post, with nothing resembling a cogent point. Not yet, at least. And so let me try and make one, here at the end. There are many ways to make coffee, and to drink it. The American way, the way we are most familiar with, is not the best. In fact, there may not be a "best" way, so much as there are different ways. And so I would like to make more posts, in the future, on the type of coffee most associated with a given region. But for the moment, I'll stop.
The San Francisco Giants won the World Series, you may, have heard, defeating the Texas Rangers to claim the title. It is worth noting that the United States has never won the fledgling World Baseball Classic, however. And so it must be said that a team from Japan, Colombia, Venezuela, or Cuba, could, in a seven game series, take four from the Giants. This is not to say that it would happen, of course. And it is worth noting, American sports - excluding soccer - tend to be the best funded, and thus attract the world's best talent.
But that example, at the end of the day, is not terribly controversial. Most accept that MLB is the world's best professional baseball league. There are other instances where that notion seems laughable, of course. Ryan Hall, the fastest American marathoner ever, would be soundly crushed by at least ten currently running Kenyans. And no one insists that the MLS champion could compete, on a weekly basis, in England's Premiere League, Spain's La Liga, or even Frances Ligue 1.
But even with those examples, there is an arrogance to be found. That is, there is a question of why Americans aren't the best, which contains the inherent supposition that America and its citizens are gifted beyond anyone else, and quite capable of ruling any competition they set their collective minds to.
People want to know what America needs to do to win the World Cup; because of course, America has the athletes to do so, they just play other sports. This is trotted out every four years, with laughable results. What if LeBron James played soccer? Or can you imagine Chris Johnson as a winger? This is an absurd, one way comparison, that assumes these sports are somehow more athletically taxing, and that the world's best soccer players couldn't have turned out to be the world's best American football, or basketball players. Who is to say, for instance, that Frank Lampard would not have been Peyton Manning, had he been born in America?
The assumption in distance running is that, either Americans don't work hard enough, or that there is some inherent advantage to running at the high altitudes of East Africa. Those two things well be true enough; but neither ought to suggest that, with the same mileage at the same altitude, the best American should be equal to the best Ethiopian.
There is this notion in coffee, as well (yes, I finally made the connection). The United States and Italy, most seem to think, drink coffee the most, and prepare it the best. Italy did it first, and America, as we've established, is though by Americans to be great at all things. And so it logically follows that the best baristi in the world must reside in those nations as well.
Simply, this is incorrect. Norway drinks, per capita, more coffee than any other nation. The next three are Scandinavian nations as well. The USA is 9th, and Italy 12th, for the record. But so what? Those countries are cold. Thus they drink more coffee. This is, simply put, not news. What of quality?
On that, Scandinavia wins as well. Granted, the World Barista Championships has only been contested since 2000; but in that time, Denmark has four winners, Norway two. Mike Phillips of Chicago did win the USA's first title last year, but no Italian Barista has ever placed in the top three, even. Australia and Great Britain have also made consistently strong showings.
Now even by my standards, this is a lengthy post, with nothing resembling a cogent point. Not yet, at least. And so let me try and make one, here at the end. There are many ways to make coffee, and to drink it. The American way, the way we are most familiar with, is not the best. In fact, there may not be a "best" way, so much as there are different ways. And so I would like to make more posts, in the future, on the type of coffee most associated with a given region. But for the moment, I'll stop.
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