If there has been a relative lack of words here lately, it's only because there will probably be too many soon. I'm getting a week off (paid!), which is, paradoxically, somewhat awful. It's not that I don't have a life, so much as the one I do have is largely constructed around spending 8-10 hours a day doing coffee related things. Still, I'll make do.
In the mean time, be inspired.
December 15, 2011
December 10, 2011
A Mocha For Breakfast
If I can piggyback a bit, the New York Times certainly has the room to carry me. And Mark Bittman is a big reason why. He's authored many cookbooks, and frankly, more useful food polemics than the more famous Michael Pollan.
His latest deals with breakfast cereal, or in other words, America's morning bowl of candy. We're told it's the most important meal of the day (for some reason), but people are often too busy (they'd say) to prepare something themselves. As such, they pour crisped up something or other from a box, douse it in milk, and consume.
I'll stop there, because there's no reason to write the linked article again. What I will do, however, is draw a parallel with coffee.
There is an ever increasing body of scientific literature that links coffee drinking with lower incidence of just about everything you want to avoid. It probably does some good things too, especially if you're about to go run. But while the evidence is growing, it's unfortunately irrelevant for most coffee drinkers. That's because, when most people refer to their morning coffee, they are, in fact, talking about a bucket of milk and sugar.
Before I go any further, I should say this: There is nothing wrong with people making that choice. I ate a cookie yesterday, and do not feel as if I've contributed to the metabolic epidemic in this country. Eat what you like; drink what you like.
It is a little troubling, however, to see the number of people for whom a mocha is breakfast. It's not that they can't enjoy such a drink - just that it's better served as a treat, rather than a meal.
Perhaps more troubling is that these are the sorts of coffee drinks most likely to be consumed by the younger crowd. Teenagers do not drink black coffee. They do like milkshakes though, even with trace espresso tossed in. This is a lifetime taste we're encouraging, and perhaps, some damaging consequences are being facilitated.
Of course, none of this is really my concern. Nor, in fact, will it be a revelation to anyone. No one orders a mocha thinking that it's the healthy choice. Perhaps I'd be better served not to undermine my sentiments so soon after expressing them, but in this case, it can't be helped. What to eat and drink is a free choice, as it should be. But sometimes, the better decision has to be noted.
His latest deals with breakfast cereal, or in other words, America's morning bowl of candy. We're told it's the most important meal of the day (for some reason), but people are often too busy (they'd say) to prepare something themselves. As such, they pour crisped up something or other from a box, douse it in milk, and consume.
I'll stop there, because there's no reason to write the linked article again. What I will do, however, is draw a parallel with coffee.
There is an ever increasing body of scientific literature that links coffee drinking with lower incidence of just about everything you want to avoid. It probably does some good things too, especially if you're about to go run. But while the evidence is growing, it's unfortunately irrelevant for most coffee drinkers. That's because, when most people refer to their morning coffee, they are, in fact, talking about a bucket of milk and sugar.
Before I go any further, I should say this: There is nothing wrong with people making that choice. I ate a cookie yesterday, and do not feel as if I've contributed to the metabolic epidemic in this country. Eat what you like; drink what you like.
It is a little troubling, however, to see the number of people for whom a mocha is breakfast. It's not that they can't enjoy such a drink - just that it's better served as a treat, rather than a meal.
Perhaps more troubling is that these are the sorts of coffee drinks most likely to be consumed by the younger crowd. Teenagers do not drink black coffee. They do like milkshakes though, even with trace espresso tossed in. This is a lifetime taste we're encouraging, and perhaps, some damaging consequences are being facilitated.
Of course, none of this is really my concern. Nor, in fact, will it be a revelation to anyone. No one orders a mocha thinking that it's the healthy choice. Perhaps I'd be better served not to undermine my sentiments so soon after expressing them, but in this case, it can't be helped. What to eat and drink is a free choice, as it should be. But sometimes, the better decision has to be noted.
December 8, 2011
This Round's On Teacher
Though I may occasionally sound the embittered recent graduate, I'm reasonably positive about my college experience. There were things about it I didn't care for, of course. Mostly, I felt there was too much emphasis put on filling out seemingly endless gen-ed requirements, rather than focusing on areas of interest. But by in large, I feel like I learned things. And that's mostly the point.
Still, there are those teachers who strive to reach those mired in a me-esque apathy. They may do so using any number of techniques, but I doubt that any work as well as buying your students coffee, as no fewer than three teachers did today.
Sure, it's probably a tax write-off. And no, it's not any great expense. But the gesture is appreciated. So too is the caffeine; at least by those who consume it. A fair few opted for hot chocolates instead, which, given the freshmanish look to the students, wasn't a surprise.
But there was an exception to this rule. One teacher ordered for her class, rather than letting them choose. 12 shots of espresso - one for each student - were requested. As I worked, enjoying the rhythm of pulling shots, she told them a little about the drink they were about to receive, how they might modify it, and how they should consume it. I don't know what class this was, but Espresso 101 seemed an appropriate name at that time.
Of course, the reactions were equally instructive. Most recoiled a bit, marveled at how strong this little ounce of liquid was, and exclaimed something unintelligible. But whether they like the taste or not, all seemed to enjoy the experience. It was, at the very least, something new - Dare I say, a learning experience?
In any case, kids, welcome to academia. I'm sure I'll be seeing you all again.
Still, there are those teachers who strive to reach those mired in a me-esque apathy. They may do so using any number of techniques, but I doubt that any work as well as buying your students coffee, as no fewer than three teachers did today.
Sure, it's probably a tax write-off. And no, it's not any great expense. But the gesture is appreciated. So too is the caffeine; at least by those who consume it. A fair few opted for hot chocolates instead, which, given the freshmanish look to the students, wasn't a surprise.
But there was an exception to this rule. One teacher ordered for her class, rather than letting them choose. 12 shots of espresso - one for each student - were requested. As I worked, enjoying the rhythm of pulling shots, she told them a little about the drink they were about to receive, how they might modify it, and how they should consume it. I don't know what class this was, but Espresso 101 seemed an appropriate name at that time.
Of course, the reactions were equally instructive. Most recoiled a bit, marveled at how strong this little ounce of liquid was, and exclaimed something unintelligible. But whether they like the taste or not, all seemed to enjoy the experience. It was, at the very least, something new - Dare I say, a learning experience?
In any case, kids, welcome to academia. I'm sure I'll be seeing you all again.
December 6, 2011
Skimmed
Lest my last post give you the impression that I've abandoned my health conscious ways, I assure you that I remain as neurotic and nutrient cognizant as always. A healthy cardiovascular indulgence burns a fair number of calories, sure; but recovery - and thus future performance - suffers when the diet quality takes a nose dive.
Of course, three beers is not such a travesty. Probably, some alcohol is better than none, so long as that boring advice about moderation is kept in mind. There were carbs... and... uh... antioxidants. Beer is made from whole grain Barley!
And in this case, milk. Which brings me, rather conveniently, back to dairy. It's a topic I've focused on in the past, abandoned, and now return to once more. Sort of. Basically, my past posts dealt with fat, and how its presence in food and drink doesn't immediately bulge your waistline. In fact, though calories are calories, the sweet stuff mixed with skim is probably "worse" for you, in the long run.
(As an aside, and since I've never mentioned them before, nuts are fantastic. This is not breaking news, but while we're on the subject of fatty foods, they deserve mention. Morning coffee is one of life's sublime pleasures; but so is fresh ground peanut butter in a thick bowl of oats.)
But this is not a health and fitness blog. (Which does raise the point: What kind of blog is this? Shouldn't I have some idea?) My primary concern is with taste, and preparing the best (however we define that) drink for the customer, every time. This is an impossible goal; but I find those to be the most satisfying to pursue.
And so it is that my primary aversion to skim has nothing to do with its lack of dietary fat. (In truth, very few Americans are consuming too little.) No, skim simply tastes awful. I've said so for some time now, but hadn't actually tried it in... months? A year? More, maybe.
I changed that today, having been slightly prompted. I was asked by a frequent latte drinker what I though switching whole for skim would do to the taste of her drink. "Well," I said, "There will be a lot less fat, so the texture will change more than the flavor. It'll probably feel a bit thin, and lack the creamy texture that whole has. Honestly, I don't think I've ever heard of someone preferring skim."
But she was undaunted. I prepared the drink, taking care not to stretch the wispier skim milk too much. "I think I like it better," she said. A first time for everything, I supposed. Though I couldn't suppose quite that much; cognitive dissonance has its limits.
So, seeing that there was some skim left in the pitcher, I poured it in to a demitasse, and sipped. Granted, there was no espresso, and this was only a taste. But I couldn't imagine wanting for more. It tasted, to me, like someone had blended up a bag of cotton balls in water, microwaved it, then substituted it for milk.
Of course, your mileage may vary. There are legitimate reasons to cut fat from your coffee drinks, if you plan on consuming it elsewhere. Some simply don't handle drinks that heavy very well, while others have an aversion to dairy in general. (On that note, I'd say soy tastes much better to me than skim does. It does, however, cost extra.) And then there are those who, though incomprehensibly to me, like skim.
Well, there's at least one.
Of course, three beers is not such a travesty. Probably, some alcohol is better than none, so long as that boring advice about moderation is kept in mind. There were carbs... and... uh... antioxidants. Beer is made from whole grain Barley!
And in this case, milk. Which brings me, rather conveniently, back to dairy. It's a topic I've focused on in the past, abandoned, and now return to once more. Sort of. Basically, my past posts dealt with fat, and how its presence in food and drink doesn't immediately bulge your waistline. In fact, though calories are calories, the sweet stuff mixed with skim is probably "worse" for you, in the long run.
(As an aside, and since I've never mentioned them before, nuts are fantastic. This is not breaking news, but while we're on the subject of fatty foods, they deserve mention. Morning coffee is one of life's sublime pleasures; but so is fresh ground peanut butter in a thick bowl of oats.)
But this is not a health and fitness blog. (Which does raise the point: What kind of blog is this? Shouldn't I have some idea?) My primary concern is with taste, and preparing the best (however we define that) drink for the customer, every time. This is an impossible goal; but I find those to be the most satisfying to pursue.
And so it is that my primary aversion to skim has nothing to do with its lack of dietary fat. (In truth, very few Americans are consuming too little.) No, skim simply tastes awful. I've said so for some time now, but hadn't actually tried it in... months? A year? More, maybe.
I changed that today, having been slightly prompted. I was asked by a frequent latte drinker what I though switching whole for skim would do to the taste of her drink. "Well," I said, "There will be a lot less fat, so the texture will change more than the flavor. It'll probably feel a bit thin, and lack the creamy texture that whole has. Honestly, I don't think I've ever heard of someone preferring skim."
But she was undaunted. I prepared the drink, taking care not to stretch the wispier skim milk too much. "I think I like it better," she said. A first time for everything, I supposed. Though I couldn't suppose quite that much; cognitive dissonance has its limits.
So, seeing that there was some skim left in the pitcher, I poured it in to a demitasse, and sipped. Granted, there was no espresso, and this was only a taste. But I couldn't imagine wanting for more. It tasted, to me, like someone had blended up a bag of cotton balls in water, microwaved it, then substituted it for milk.
Of course, your mileage may vary. There are legitimate reasons to cut fat from your coffee drinks, if you plan on consuming it elsewhere. Some simply don't handle drinks that heavy very well, while others have an aversion to dairy in general. (On that note, I'd say soy tastes much better to me than skim does. It does, however, cost extra.) And then there are those who, though incomprehensibly to me, like skim.
Well, there's at least one.
December 4, 2011
Left Hand Milk Stout
"Dude, look at you, drinkin' that hipster beer and shit. But nah. It's cool man."
And so I was, and so it was. Though PBR has the reputation as unofficial hipster beer of the unwashed masses, there is a segment that prefers craft brews. It follows, logically, that someone who appreciates specialty coffee might like their other beverages derived from a similarly obscure background.
I don't, really. Or rather, it's not the craftiness or the niche factor that drives my beer preference. It's simply a matter of taste. I like beer that does not taste like rancid water, but beyond that, I can't say too much. I'm akin, in this field, to the coffee drinker who knows that they like coffee, but not really what or why.
I do know, however, that I really enjoy the beer pictured at the top. It's a stout, but rather sweet, tasting a bit like chocolate milk. It's easier to drink that you expect, and not as heavy either. All in all, it makes for very comfortable hipster beer drinking. One can lean up against a wall, sip it with skinny jeans and a thin smile, and feel entirely superior to all the mixed whatever drinkers in the crowd. That's what hipster beer is for, right?
In any case, though I'm a very (very, very) infrequent drinker, I really do enjoy this brew. What's more, the website lists several others that I feel compelled to try. Describing a porter as having espresso notes is a sure way to lure me, after all.
December 1, 2011
Pickled Coffee
Coffee, put in a pickle jar, held tight by fingers protruding from cut-off mittens. A hat, with feather, perched over sharp eyes and a loose beard. Something about that is right. Coffee, had with no pretense, in whatever and however. But mostly, coffee, had with a certain contentedness and happiness.
This contrasts, more than a little, with the aesthetic presented on numerous other occasions. But it's something like the ideal I imagine. Not the beard, or the gloves, or any of that. But the picture, which somehow is more than the sum of those parts. A picture, which can results from innumerable other ingredients. It's an aesthetic that has nothing to do with how it looks, and everything to do with how I see it.
If this makes no sense... well, there's really no "if" about it. This certainly makes no sense. It's an idea floating around in my head, of what coffee should be, of what it should mean, that carries with it an entire set of otherwise unrelated connotations. Generally, the lack of pretense is an agreed upon virtue. But how we go about perceiving that is much less a shared trait.
And that's ok. We'll agree on that too, probably, if nothing else. But still, coffee in a pickle jar. How can you not smile?
This contrasts, more than a little, with the aesthetic presented on numerous other occasions. But it's something like the ideal I imagine. Not the beard, or the gloves, or any of that. But the picture, which somehow is more than the sum of those parts. A picture, which can results from innumerable other ingredients. It's an aesthetic that has nothing to do with how it looks, and everything to do with how I see it.
If this makes no sense... well, there's really no "if" about it. This certainly makes no sense. It's an idea floating around in my head, of what coffee should be, of what it should mean, that carries with it an entire set of otherwise unrelated connotations. Generally, the lack of pretense is an agreed upon virtue. But how we go about perceiving that is much less a shared trait.
And that's ok. We'll agree on that too, probably, if nothing else. But still, coffee in a pickle jar. How can you not smile?
The Gift of Ignorance
The blueberry scone? Oh, that's the blue-specked one. With the blueberries in it. And the pumpkin bread is orange. Like a pumpkin. As for precisely what makes a brownie vegan, well, you'll have to ask it. Everyone, it seems, has different reasons; but I'd hazard a guess towards various ecological concerns.
These are the things - or at least, the sorts of things - that occur to me, at random times, on random days. You think them, but don't say them. To do that would make you something other than nice - snooty, perhaps. And since I was told, just recently, that I am not one of those "snooty baristas", things better left unsaid tend to stay that way.
Which is not to say that there's an endless pool of snark welling up inside me, but rather, is more of a comment on the perceived state of the profession. We are a demographic from which snootiness is expected, perhaps, and thus encouraged.
Oh, you don't know what a dry cappuccino is? Here, let me help you, by tilting my head slightly, raising my eyebrows, and exhaling. There. Now you've learned, not what the drink is, but to not ask. Most of all, you've learned that ignorance will not be tolerated, but instead, made cruel spectacle of.
This is not the way it should be, or the way it has to be. Nice people think not nice things, and even say them sometimes. But a pattern emerges. It's said you can tell a lot about a person by how they treat food service employees, but the opposite is every bit as true.
I've talked about this before, of course. Generally, I believe in playing nice. There is a place for snark, dispensed judiciously, a touch of seasoning on the entree of general congeniality. But just a touch. More, and you mask the fact that baristas are paid to hang out at a coffee bar all day. It's an enviable situation - though I'm biased.
Sure, some questions may seem unnecessary. But ignorance is bliss, for those with the answers. Without the questions, we'd be automatons, replaceable by push-button machines serving dismal coffee. The blueberry scone? On the left. Thanks.
These are the things - or at least, the sorts of things - that occur to me, at random times, on random days. You think them, but don't say them. To do that would make you something other than nice - snooty, perhaps. And since I was told, just recently, that I am not one of those "snooty baristas", things better left unsaid tend to stay that way.
Which is not to say that there's an endless pool of snark welling up inside me, but rather, is more of a comment on the perceived state of the profession. We are a demographic from which snootiness is expected, perhaps, and thus encouraged.
Oh, you don't know what a dry cappuccino is? Here, let me help you, by tilting my head slightly, raising my eyebrows, and exhaling. There. Now you've learned, not what the drink is, but to not ask. Most of all, you've learned that ignorance will not be tolerated, but instead, made cruel spectacle of.
This is not the way it should be, or the way it has to be. Nice people think not nice things, and even say them sometimes. But a pattern emerges. It's said you can tell a lot about a person by how they treat food service employees, but the opposite is every bit as true.
I've talked about this before, of course. Generally, I believe in playing nice. There is a place for snark, dispensed judiciously, a touch of seasoning on the entree of general congeniality. But just a touch. More, and you mask the fact that baristas are paid to hang out at a coffee bar all day. It's an enviable situation - though I'm biased.
Sure, some questions may seem unnecessary. But ignorance is bliss, for those with the answers. Without the questions, we'd be automatons, replaceable by push-button machines serving dismal coffee. The blueberry scone? On the left. Thanks.
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