Wouldn't you know it...
No sooner do I post a bit about how bad dark roasts are, than I am introduced to two coffees which remind me that a dark roast can taste quite nice.
I tried Peet's Major Dickason's Blend and found it to be quite smooth and drinkable--without the characteristic bite that dark roasts usually have. Yes, the natural flavors of the coffee were hidden by the roast, but it still tasted nice. Later in the day, our roast master had me cup a modified version of our darkest roast: major improvement--very drinkable, even, dare I say it, pleasant.
The real thing to remember with dark roasts is not that they taste like bug-repellent (because that's true only 80% of the time), but that they hide the natural flavor of the coffee. In wine terms, a dark roasted coffee is equivalent to an oakey wine with lots of residual sugars. Might taste nice, (especially to the novice, who's palate has been developed with coca-cola and twinkies), but it's not a good wine (or coffee).
Now, back to my twinkie...
Thursday, August 31, 2006
Thursday, August 24, 2006
So, Why Drink Espresso?
My first coffee-beverage of the day is usually not espresso. I start with either a cup-o-french-press or else a true cappuccino. If I've missed breakfast and don't have any money, and I'm working at the shop, then sometimes I drink a latte (for pure caloric intake).
Espresso, rather is the follow up drink. It's perfect after lunch when I feel sluggish and have no room in my belly: those 2 ounces slide right in where no other beverage could fit. It's great as a mid-morning or afternoon energizer: no time for coffee, just suck it down.
The cool thing about espresso is that you continue to taste it for a good while after you've had it--sometimes even an hour later it's still resonating with it's earthy sweetness. So, even though you might not have time to sit and enjoy a large cup of joe, you can quickly drink an espresso, get back to work, and still be enjoying your coffee.
Indeed, perhaps the best taste of espresso is its aftertaste, and not the initial, tip of the tongue experience. This is not to take away from the initial taste--because this can be wonderful as well: I know you're not going to believe this... but I have tasted espresso that is literally sweet. Mmmm. Then it turns to an intense chocolatey-berry-earthy taste. Then comes the heavenly aftertaste.
That's reason enough right there to try espresso.
My first coffee-beverage of the day is usually not espresso. I start with either a cup-o-french-press or else a true cappuccino. If I've missed breakfast and don't have any money, and I'm working at the shop, then sometimes I drink a latte (for pure caloric intake).
Espresso, rather is the follow up drink. It's perfect after lunch when I feel sluggish and have no room in my belly: those 2 ounces slide right in where no other beverage could fit. It's great as a mid-morning or afternoon energizer: no time for coffee, just suck it down.
The cool thing about espresso is that you continue to taste it for a good while after you've had it--sometimes even an hour later it's still resonating with it's earthy sweetness. So, even though you might not have time to sit and enjoy a large cup of joe, you can quickly drink an espresso, get back to work, and still be enjoying your coffee.
Indeed, perhaps the best taste of espresso is its aftertaste, and not the initial, tip of the tongue experience. This is not to take away from the initial taste--because this can be wonderful as well: I know you're not going to believe this... but I have tasted espresso that is literally sweet. Mmmm. Then it turns to an intense chocolatey-berry-earthy taste. Then comes the heavenly aftertaste.
That's reason enough right there to try espresso.
Wednesday, August 23, 2006
On The Conversion
Perhaps the most rewarding experience for a barista is converting a customer from a Grande Vanilla Latte Lover to the Pure Espresso Drinker. Doesn't happen too often--not because straight espresso is bad, so much as it's intimidating and foreign. Most people won't even try it. Add to the above that most people around town are making bad espresso to begin with, so most people here who try espresso once, try bad espresso, and never want it again. Additionally, a novice taking his first drink of espresso needs coaching in order to drink it right (quick first sip, then down the hatch). Even then, the taste might just be too intense.
That's a lot to overcome when trying to preach the pure espresso gospel. I've converted 3 people in 5 or so years; the third just yesterday. Yes!
Perhaps the most rewarding experience for a barista is converting a customer from a Grande Vanilla Latte Lover to the Pure Espresso Drinker. Doesn't happen too often--not because straight espresso is bad, so much as it's intimidating and foreign. Most people won't even try it. Add to the above that most people around town are making bad espresso to begin with, so most people here who try espresso once, try bad espresso, and never want it again. Additionally, a novice taking his first drink of espresso needs coaching in order to drink it right (quick first sip, then down the hatch). Even then, the taste might just be too intense.
That's a lot to overcome when trying to preach the pure espresso gospel. I've converted 3 people in 5 or so years; the third just yesterday. Yes!
Thursday, August 17, 2006
On Dark Roasted Coffee
Every day someone comes into the roastery and says something like this:
"I just LOVE your coffee. I want to buy something really tasty--something good and dark"
First of all, you DON'T love our coffee if you like "dark" coffee. We do roast some coffees dark, but we roast 90% of our coffees light (Full City) or medium (Vienna), so you don't know what you're talking about. And here's the dirty little secret on Dark Roasts: they remove most of the distinguishing characteristics from the coffee, so you probably can't distinguish our dark (French) roast from Starbucks or Tully's or Peet's. (Yes there IS a difference: some are bad, others are really bad, and some are barely tolerable...)
Second, you need to realize that the terms "good" and "dark" are mutually exclusive. I can give you something dark. I can give you something good. But I can't give you both in one. Clearly, you know nothing about coffee if you want something "good and dark." Let me put it this way: Dark roast is to Coffee as Velveeta is to Cheese. Does that clear things up?
Now don't misunderstand me, I don't mind that you know nothing about coffee; It does upset me when you pretend like you do.
Here's what I suggest you say when you come in to the shop if you don't know what you want but you don't want to lose face because you're a coffee beginner: "Hi, I'd really like to buy something tasty." There, that's what you meant in the first place--you're not insulting our coffees, and you're not pretending to be something you're not. Excellent.
Every day someone comes into the roastery and says something like this:
"I just LOVE your coffee. I want to buy something really tasty--something good and dark"
First of all, you DON'T love our coffee if you like "dark" coffee. We do roast some coffees dark, but we roast 90% of our coffees light (Full City) or medium (Vienna), so you don't know what you're talking about. And here's the dirty little secret on Dark Roasts: they remove most of the distinguishing characteristics from the coffee, so you probably can't distinguish our dark (French) roast from Starbucks or Tully's or Peet's. (Yes there IS a difference: some are bad, others are really bad, and some are barely tolerable...)
Second, you need to realize that the terms "good" and "dark" are mutually exclusive. I can give you something dark. I can give you something good. But I can't give you both in one. Clearly, you know nothing about coffee if you want something "good and dark." Let me put it this way: Dark roast is to Coffee as Velveeta is to Cheese. Does that clear things up?
Now don't misunderstand me, I don't mind that you know nothing about coffee; It does upset me when you pretend like you do.
Here's what I suggest you say when you come in to the shop if you don't know what you want but you don't want to lose face because you're a coffee beginner: "Hi, I'd really like to buy something tasty." There, that's what you meant in the first place--you're not insulting our coffees, and you're not pretending to be something you're not. Excellent.
Wednesday, August 16, 2006
Tuesday, August 15, 2006
Well, not doing much barista wise these days--I've been roasting the last week and a half. Interestingly, my angst has been reduced to the point that I fear it has disappeared. No worry, I'm sure that it will resume it's usual prominent position once I return to the bar and you ask me for a 5/8th of a packet sweet-n-low, skinny latte. (That's not a made up order, by the way).
Sadly, lack of angst makes for boring posts...
Look for good stuff some time next week.
-Larry
Sadly, lack of angst makes for boring posts...
Look for good stuff some time next week.
-Larry
Friday, August 04, 2006
Just for the record...
A 16 oz, dry capuccino is a stupid, stupid drink. Don't ever order it.
First of all, it's hard (though not impossible) to get 16 ounces of good foam. (It's easy, by the way, to get 16 ounces of bad foam, which is usually what happens.) Second, do you really want to drink 16 ounces of foam? Even good foam? If your answer is yes... well, there's no accounting for taste. I like foam, too, guys. Hey, I even used to order a venti (20 ounces) dry cappuccino. That's right my friends, I was one of those guys. And I am here to TESTIFY! It's wrong, wrong, wrong.
Why?
Have you ever had a REAL cappuccino? 6 or 8 ounces or so? A tasty, tasty beverage. Get a good one and you won't have to ask why a 16 ounce dry cap is silly. In a real cap, the espresso is integrated into the foam. The rich, drinkable, melted-whipped cream textured foam carries pure espresso pleasure in every sip. In a 16 ounce dry cap, you have to dig through layers and layers of foam before you reach any coffee. Moreover, once you've reached the coffee, the foam has separated from the milk, leaving it the undrinkable texture of sea foam--stiff, airy. It is not foam--it is the feces of foam.
Mmmmm. Foam feces...
A 16 oz, dry capuccino is a stupid, stupid drink. Don't ever order it.
First of all, it's hard (though not impossible) to get 16 ounces of good foam. (It's easy, by the way, to get 16 ounces of bad foam, which is usually what happens.) Second, do you really want to drink 16 ounces of foam? Even good foam? If your answer is yes... well, there's no accounting for taste. I like foam, too, guys. Hey, I even used to order a venti (20 ounces) dry cappuccino. That's right my friends, I was one of those guys. And I am here to TESTIFY! It's wrong, wrong, wrong.
Why?
Have you ever had a REAL cappuccino? 6 or 8 ounces or so? A tasty, tasty beverage. Get a good one and you won't have to ask why a 16 ounce dry cap is silly. In a real cap, the espresso is integrated into the foam. The rich, drinkable, melted-whipped cream textured foam carries pure espresso pleasure in every sip. In a 16 ounce dry cap, you have to dig through layers and layers of foam before you reach any coffee. Moreover, once you've reached the coffee, the foam has separated from the milk, leaving it the undrinkable texture of sea foam--stiff, airy. It is not foam--it is the feces of foam.
Mmmmm. Foam feces...
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
