Finally got round to wachin the vidya of the Barista World Championship. Like anything else in this buisness, it has a high BS to useful content ratio. Still, it might be worth it to sift through the crap :

http://zacharyzachary.wordpress.com/2007/08/02/finalist-presentations/

Competing as a barista intrigues me, but mainly repulses me: lots of posturing, lots of BS; little to do with the real world and a lot to do with how well you perform on a stage. Still, interesting to watch...

ENOUGH ALREADY

Yes, this is my last day of work at the Roastery (sort of). I'm moving on--going to work as a state bureaucrat. You know, the sort of shiftless sponge, or perhaps leach, you curse when you're paying your taxes.

So...

Here's my final rant...
(maybe)
(probably not)

The sad truth is, most of you all are idiots. Especially Mick. And Andrew. Let's not forget the whole wine crew next door, especially Jenna and Joe. And my Starbucks readers--Sierra and Jeremiah. And my good friends, Matt and Herman, who continue to read this blog even though it is so obviously devoid of anything useful. Well, the list goes on, but I grow weary of sifting through it...

Ok, you've been great readers and customers. You put up with my wrants, you listen to my advice, you drink the drinks I force on you.

Thanks for everything.

-Larry

Who are these people and why are they in my coffee shop?
(A bit about different customer types.)

I've been thinking about some of the different types of customers, wondering, just what is it that drives them to them to such a sad state of deranged madness? Why do they get mad at me for charging $2 for ice tea? Why do they talk so much about being coffee connoisseurs, yet spend so much time adding sweet-n-low to their coffee? I will attempt to analyze these types, disecting them, exploring them, and yes, of course, mocking them.

The 50 year old male, obviously well off, who loudly complains about coffee prices and about how it's criminal to tip a barista: Well, there's not much to say after that title. This type is very common, and definitely my least favorite type to serve (not counting beligerently drunk and angry 47 year old women, but they're less common). Dude, you are obviously doing well in life--no shortage of money. Your Infiniti tells me that. Your clothes tell me that. So why are you so cheap? And why are you so mad and loud? Just be quiet and cheap. That's much less likely to get you beaten in some alley. Not by me. I'm just saying someone might...

The 40-something (pre-menopausal to menopausal) buisness woman: You are successful. You are pretty. And you are mean. You are pretty mean. And you only drink grande nonfat lattes. They are always called "grande," even when you are at a store that deliberately doesn't call them "grande." They should always be called "grande," just like they do at your favorite Starbucks. You will quench all attempts at humor with an icy stare. When you leave, my only thought is, "Your poor, poor husband."

The fake nice (male or female): Who knows what you really think? Clearly you are insincere in your compliments, which you lay on by the dozen. Your facade crumbles though, if things don't go your way. What, the store is out of your favorite cookie?! You get a pissy look in your eyes and your mouth wrinkles up before you regain your composure, and put that fake smile back on. You are an enigma. And I can't quite shake the lingering fear that you are going to walk into the shop with a loaded gun someday--Psycho Killer psuedo nice guy.

The awed customer: You have a look of awe in your face whenever I'm working on the espresso machine. When I hand you a drink with a rosetta on top, you can barely speak. Stop it. You are scaring me. I know me: I'm not impressed; You shouldn't be either. Or maybe you're really just the psuedo-nice guy described above, only you're pulling it off much, much better. Either way, you are freaking me out.

...

I don't mind ignorant people.
I don't mind people who are sure they're right.
But ignorant people who are sure they're right despite all evidence to the contrary get my angst burning something awful...

So a Californian couple came in and ordered two doppios. I proceeded to pull them some very nice doppio ristrettos. We always pull ristretto shots--there's no good reason to do otherwise. If a customer asks me specifically for a 2 oz doppio, or even a lungo, I'll pull it for him, but only after a significant conversation where I make sure that he understands that he's ordering an inferior product.

The Californian couple received their doppios (in paper cups!) and each said, "this is only a single."
I said, "No, they are doppio ristrettos."
They said, "No, they are singles."

I then explained what a ristretto is.
They said they knew what a ristretto is, and that this was only a single shot.
I got pissed, invited them behind the counter and pulled two more sets of shots; one a ristretto, the second an over-extracted but full 2 oz doppio. The still didn't believe me.

We argued for several more minutes. Then I pulled the Italian trump card: "In Italy they always pull ristrettos." (Not completely true true, but I wanted to end the conversation.)

The guy replied, "Well I've been to Italy..."
I said, "It's not up for debate--this is how to pull espresso. I'm not arguing with you, I'm telling you."
He said, "Spoken like a true Italian."
That softened me just a bit, though I haven't an ounce of Italian blood. They left amicably, though I'm fairly certain that they still didn't believe me.

I'm still offended. I'm still pulling ristretto shots. No matter how much customers want me to make them bad coffee (and they do), I hold the line.

Just for the record...

Yesterday I recieved an order for a "mint ice tea with sugar-free vanilla and a cup of coffee thrown in." I was pretty sure that the customer was messing with me. However, after a 10 minute conversation I became convinced that she was serious. Eventually I managed to talk her out of the coffee and sugar-free vanilla. She seemed to like the plain mint ice tea. Go figure.

Well, Dirty Mick has dained to pass on another Guest Post. Apparently he's "very busy" doing "important stuff" so he doesn't have time to regularly post on this "sorry excuse for a blog." Enjoy this one.

In honor of recent additions to the Larry clan I would like to offer a brief comparison between Macchiatos and kids, which I happily admit, is really more of a comparison between baristas and parents. This will all be from a cynical outsider’s perspective, and I, like all good critics, do not claim to be smarter, better, or more capable than the poor, filter tossing, sod that I am about to indirectly lambaste.

I have had moments–and I do not think that I am alone–when a little child has come waltzing up behind me and proceeded to whine or cry or, if they have managed to learn a few words, beg for something. Sometimes they run around and knock things over, and other times they simply make obscene, distracting noises and interrupt my daydreaming. Regardless of the disturbance though, the rambunctious child is almost always followed by an adult making excuses.

“The babysitter lets her do anything she wants, how am I supposed to compete with that?”
“School lunches are too sugary, little Jimmy always gets so hyper.”
“He has such a potty mouth sometimes, why doesn’t that FCC just take South Park off the air?”’

On the other hand if a child does something good, like picking up an old lady’s jar of apple sauce, receiving high marks in penmanship, or sleeping quietly through the entirety of a cross country airplane ride, this same adult takes all of the credit.

“Sometimes I just hold her and make airplane noises to practice. Yeah, really, yeah.”
“I know I made him do them every night, I even posted his best ones on my blog.”
“That’s because I read to her all the time. No, of course we don’t own a tv. What kind of slacker parent do you think I am?!!”

This fluid relationship between action and result–and I’m sure some of you are already onto my little comparison­–is often reflected in the arrogant ramblings of your friendly, neighborhood barista.

Say you are caffeine deprived and anxious and the only thing that you want in life, the one simple thing, is a smooth, sweet macchiato, delicious and prim and aesthetically pleasing. But when your drink comes out a thimble of acrid tar water, topped with an almost offensive dribble of over-foamed milk. The first thing you will hear out of the barista’s mouth is an excuse, some form of blame aimed at any number of uncontrollable forces.

“This non-organic milk is just molecularly opposed to being foamed correctly, really… smell it”
“The temperature of the room is always off this time of day, it has something to do with the albedo of our new La Marzocco…yeah, I know…what’s a dual boiler system anyway?”
“The moon was full last night, tides are all crazy… Schomer couldn’t have even pulled that shot.”

And of course this same barista will always insist that the perfect ones, the macchiatos worth his or her weight in solid gold peaberries, were entirely their doing.

“Look! Did you see those trickles at the bottom, just like a root system, amazing, I know.”
“Sometimes I don’t believe it either, chocolaty and fruity at the same time, like one of those Cadbury bars. But $%&#, I could make stale Starbuck’s taste like that.”
“Look a five leaf rosetta…what?..Cappuccinos are just big macchiatos, you know that’s what you really wanted.”

It’s nice to know though that there are baristas in the world like Larry who are humble and stylish and never disappoint, even if it is only because they are just lucky, every single time.

Just in case you were wondering...

Coffee doesn't really catch on fire when you have a roaster "fire" ; it just smokes a lot and turns into a giant glowing coal.

Yeah, we had one, and it was freaking sweet. We poured the smoking mass of coffee-charcoal out on the drive-way. It was so burnt that it crumbled to the touch. I tested this by riding my long-board at speed into the smoking pile. Yes, it just plowed through, leaving two smoking wheel tracks and some "wheel-ground" coffee in its wake.

And to think that some people have suggested to me that I should get a "real" job. How many of you get to do this at work?

All Right!

There she is, Baby Barista. 8lbs, 12 oz. Home birth, Mamma's happy, baby's happy, Papa's happy, even big sister is happy. She's less than an hour old in this pic, I think.

Truly amazing.

Oh, and I saw the Transformers movie, too. Very good, as long as you don't care if there's a cohesive plot; you like giant robots and John Turturro. I say yes to all 3.

Oh, and coffee content... I can't imagine helping with a birth without a cup of joe. If you're up in the wee hours of the morning pushing on your wife's back during contractions, it's pretty freaking sweet to sip on an amazing Costa Rican coffee in between. Sweet, and essential. Caffeine is definitely of the essence: Honestly, I would have taken caffeine pills if I'd had to, but the Costa was much better.

-Papa Larry

This is our new ride, (pictured on the left) the La Marzocco FB-80. It replaces our almost new, but still out-dated La Marzocco FB-70, which looks almost the same (pictured above). Most of our customers didn't notice when we switched them out.

Basically, the FB-80 has the same internals, with a few twists which make is ridiculously temperature stable. The resulting espresso taste, once you get the temperature dialed in correctly, is ridicuously wonderful every single time. The old machine took a bunch of tweaking to get it temperature stable, and it never gave the same taste twice. That was a bit fun, but not really a desirable trait.

The old machine was klunky and noisy--in a very endearing way. The new machine is earily quiet: I can't tell if it's on or off, except that the "on" button blinks. Never had that "trouble" with the old one. I miss the noise.

The steam wand is a bit improved--it takes less wrist movement to turn it on and off, just 1/4 turn. Yet it feels so familiar that there was no break-in time needed: perfect foam from the get-go. Another nice improvement is that the wand dial moves away from the machine as it closes, and towards the machine as you twist it open. This seems to solve the problem on the old machine where the dial would sometimes get stuck in the off position.

What the freak?

Ok, I've been scrolling through a lot of the other blogs out there... Most of the people blogging are freaks. And I'm not talking about freaks like me. I mean freaks more in the sense of this photo to the right here, which I pulled off of a Spanish language blog, which, apparently is typical of Spanish language blogs. Which brings me to another sub-topic: What is going on in Hispanic cultures that leads these people to create such disturbingly bizarre blogs? These blogs are crazy! (And this is coming from a Spanish speaker and admirer of Hispanic culture (usually).) Special kudos goes out to the Portuguese language blog which consisted of translated Brian Adams lyrics.

Yes.

The world needed that.

This is my day:

I start by cupping some amazing Costa Rican coffee. This stuff is really complex--I can instantly differentiate anise, tobacco, and green bell-pepper. Other more subtle flavors slowly reveal themselves. I love coffee!

Then...

Customer: "I'd like a big coffee with caramel syrup and cream."
Me: (Gritting my teeth, I destroy that same Costa Rican, covering all the unique and wonderful flavors with caramel syrup and cream. )
Customer: "Thanks!"

A bit later...

Customer: "Can I have this coffee grinded?" (He says as he hands me a bag of coffee, clearly marked as a light roast.)
Me: "You may have it ground, if you'd like."
C: "Yeah, do that. It's a dark roast, right."
Me: "No, it's very light roasted."
C: "Oh."
Me: "We only dark roast the beans that we really don't like--that way we destroy any unique taste the bean
has."
C: (Nervous little laugh, wide eyes.)
Me: (Condescending glare)
(The customer pays and leaves, a bit hurriedly.)

Somewhere in this conversation, Jake the roaster walks in, and I can tell he's laughing quietly. Not so much at the customer as at my pain. Thanks Jake.

Next customer: "I'm looking for dark roasts."
Jake: (Hides his face and giggles.)
Me: (Resigned silence, pained look on my face.)
Jake: (More giggling.)

By the way...

Greeting me by saying "Grande latte" is not going to win you any favors...

Start with "Hello" before you order.

That's the polite thing to do.

Usually, doing the polite thing ensures that I will be fairly nice to you and give you a tasty beverage in a timely fashion.

And while we're on the topic of little rude things customers do without realizing that it's rude:

Don't talk on your cell phone when you're talking with me. Don't answer your cell phone while you're ordering. The other day, someone did that in the drive-thru, so I left. Came back in about 4 minutes. Clearly the call was more important than our conversation, and I had other things to do... like muttering rude words to myself.

Dear Old Condescending British Ladies...

I didn't know whether to laugh or cry as the eldery, brown toothed, Brit asked me for black coffee.

"Black Coffee: that means 'without cream or sugar' dearie."

Reminded me of an old Scottish lady I met once. I told her my name was Jesse.

"Oh, that's what we name the girls in our country."

As my Scottish father-in-law pointed out, I should have retorted "Yes, but they name the gents Beverly there as well." (True)

Guest Blog!

All right you foolios, what follows below are the misguided ramblings of one of my (former) customers, Dirty Mick, who is currently moving to California. Please enjoy: They are not half-bad.

Recently I have been in transit, and, in an attempt to recover a sense of place, a moment of warm comfort, I have been walking into coffee shops or sitting down at restaurants and–at first with polite hesitation and now more with a sense of righteous criticism–ordering macchiatos. I have been met with questions, polite refusals, condescension, and blank stares. As I reflect on these caffeinated moments, I will try to appropriately channel our mutual barista friend and steal a little bit of that ole’ Larry thunder.

Macchiato #1: May 29th, Portland, OR.
I wish I could say that this macchiato was from Stumptown (Oh! Stumptown you’re so awesome. We need you Stumptown. Stumptown, love us with your charmingly aloof barista ways and your toasty, magical beans.), but I can’t. Sitting in the Portland Airport, waiting to catch a red-eye to New Jersey, my first on-the-road macchiato was politely prepared by a shaggy barista at Coffee People, a smallish coffee company which, according to their website, has five locations, all in the Portland Airport. This, and the fact that they pride themselves on a coffee called “Weiner Melange,” does not bode well for the company’s street cred in the world of coffee geeks and caffeine hipsters, or a lot of other people for that matter. They do insist that wiener is pronounced veen-er, but whether that is better or worse I will leave up to you.
The barista did politely confirm that what I had ordered was espresso sized and included a small amount of milk on top (he is probably the nicest barista I have met during my current travels). He graciously prepared my drink in a small paper cup and even handed it to me with a slow, dramatic reach so that I might appreciate the iridescence of the marble sized bubbles adorning the surface of my espresso as it traveled through the air towards me. However, I have discovered that the politeness of a barista often has nothing to do with the quality of coffee that one receives at his or her hands–the politeness of a Barista may in fact be directly and inversely related to the quality of coffee a customer receives (a hypothesis that I will subjectively support in any future guest blogs), and I discovered that the airy fluff on top of my drink managed to do little more than highlight the bitterness of the burnt doppio beneath.
I have found some rays of hope since, and I am certainly glad to be distanced from Larry’s caffeine infused bitterness, but one of his smooth, balanced macchiatos ( he does occasionally pour them) would hit the spot right now.

– Dirty Mick

Well, there's been a new trend in Seattle coffee of late: bikini/lingerie clad women serving the espresso.
I like to call it "Lecherous Old Man Espresso." It bothers me, but doesn't surprise me too much. However, it did start me on a humorous line of thought for other themed espresso shops...

"Jealous Stalker Cafe" Here, your barista not only serves you a sweet cup o joe, but secretly follows you around. Buyer beware, these baristas have been known to slip into a jealous rage and make a scene if you're discovered at Starbucks.

"Would you like a back rub? Cafe" Here, your barista tenderly kneads your milk into your espresso, then tenderly kneads that knot out of your back.

"Shameless flattery cafe" Definitely aimed at women, your barista is likely to ask if you've lost weight as he pours a heart on your ristretto macchiato.

"Creepy Silent Barista Cafe" Is your barista mute? When you order your cappuccino, he stares at you intensely, slowing leaning forward until you're mere inches from his face... No expression, save that intense, unblinking stare. Yeah, you'll get your cappy, but you'll have creepy shivers for the rest of the day.

Ok, this is stupid... but i've already wasted too much time writing it to delete it...

On customers who have been to Italy...

I admire the Italian coffee tradition and nourish a small hope to some day visit The Boot on an espresso pilgrimage. It is with envy that I listen to many of my customers who visit and come back with tales of amazing coffee.

However, it is with dismay that I notice that these same customers order drinks like a sugar-free vanilla, non-fat latte when they return to the States. They all rave about the amazing coffee they drank in Italy, but fail to make the connection that they could have amazing coffee here as well, if they would just order it. Why don't they? Perhaps because they don't think that they can get good espresso here: I can sympathize with them if that's the case.

It goes without saying that if you order coffee from most American coffee shops, you are going to get some fairly nasty stuff, and it might be advisable to cover that "espresso" with 42 ounces of milk and a good slog of vanilla syrup. However, there are some good roasteries and shops here in the states as well, where you can order fantastic coffee, Italian style or otherwise.

However, I've come to the conclusion that these customers are not actually interested in coffee at all. I'm not even sure that they enjoyed their Italian espresso. I think they're mainly interested in bragging to me. If they had gone to France, they'd brag about the wine; if Greece, the gyros; if China, the tea. The point being, they might not be able to differentiate stale robusta from fresh Panama La Esmeralda,* but they do know that Italy is famous for coffee. Thus, they brag about the coffee in Italy, loudly and incessantly, hoping to incite envy, to anyone who will listen, which usually means me. And yes, I am envious.

*Last year's Cup of Excellence winner

This just in: a local boy was bitten by a rattle snake, the same day as my snake analogy. In a bit of macabre irony, the boy is fine; the snake dead.

Today is a bit rainy: a nice semi-warm, spring rain. I rode my bike anyway, wearing my yellow rain slicker and green rain pants. Together with my red Surly I made up one sweet, rainy, Rasta flag.

We have a little "I need service" bell sitting on our counter, just in case I'm in the office when someone comes into the shop. I believe that the bell has been used for its intended purpose once. Mainly my friends and regulars ring it when I'm two feet away. Apparently its quite entertaining to watch a spasmodic twitch of anger run across my face.

Next ringer gets decaf.

I have spoken.

Quit your whining

Ok, Ok, I know it's been a while since I've posted, and now you've got yourself all worked up because you don't get to read about my misery, making your life seem meeningful and sane by comparison.

Truth is, sometimes I get too worked up over all this coffee world crud, and then I don't want to post, because it would be too serious. Plus, I don't think that it's good to unleash too much sarcastic venom on the world at once. Rather, like the Rattle Snake, I must inject my victims with just the right amount of toxin. I don't know exactly what that means, but I'm pretty sure it's deep. Regardless, I've always wanted to work a Rattle Snake analogy into my writing.

I may die in peace now.

Dear Customer,

Thank you for decor suggestions. Although we have put a lot of time and effort into our store layout, you only needed 15 seconds to look around and decide what we need to change: masterfully done. We did have experts and many advisors when we designed the store, but you've watched a Martha Stewart special or two. Our shop has a carefully chosen theme and color design, but we will try to make your suggestion of gaudy cowboy art work with it. It also helps that you give your kindly advice to our baristas as they're in the middle of making 32 drinks. Yes, they'll get right on that...what was it you wanted? Oh, yeah, we'll put up some track lighting for you.

Well meaning, but stupid nonetheless...

Here's to you Self-Appointed Spokesman for Ethical Coffee

You stomp around, demanding "only fair-trade, organic, shade-grown" coffee!

You may have no "facts" on the subject, but you're pretty sure of yourself. After all, you did hear the final snippets of an NPR interview on coffee ethics.

Your preachy manner doesn't make you any friends or converts, but man does it ever assuage your liberal white guilt.

You may call "fair-trade" "free-trade," but don't let your ignorance stop you. It never has before.

You may drive a new gas-sucking Range-Rover your daddy bought you, but really, I think that you are right to focus your angry energy on more pertinent issues: Is that really a bird-friendly espresso blend?

Why, dear reader, would a person order a cappuccino in a paper cup with a lid when they plan to drink it in the cafe? Why, when I offer to make it in a beautiful porcelain mug would they say, "oh no, I prefer paper"?
It happened yesterday...twice. The first time, I almost said, "oh, so you have no sense of taste?" The second time, I just filled the order in shocked (and somewhat insulted) silence.

Tell me, does drinking through a tiny hole in a plastic lid enhance the experience?

Next time this happens, they might just get decaf...

I tried a Latte today. It had been 3 months or so since I had last tried one. I still can't understand how people drink these things. Not that they taste bad--it's just that there's so much milk. It's hard to taste the coffee, and it makes my stomach feel so full (in a bad way, not a post-meal satisfied way). I even put in 4 shots so I'd taste the espresso. Still couldn't. Well, not compared to my usual macchiato or doppio.

Don't even try to disagree with me. I am right. Any other opinion is the fruit of ignorance.

Long time viewers will notice a major change in color and layout of the blog and, most importantly, the addition of PHOTOS! A little disclaimer: the photos of the latte art are not my photos nor my art. But you can imagine what it would be like if they were. My digi-cam died this year and I have no photos of my own art. I hope to change that sometime, but no promises.

All this as a lead-in to a discussion of latte art.

Latte art was originally inspired to draw attention to the high quality espresso beverages at Espresso Vivace. At least, that's the story by The Schomer. But I sometimes wonder if the art hasn't become an end in itself. This is most apparent in the traditional cappuccino (6.5 oz). In my pre-art days, I poured some mean caps with lots of foam and no art that tasted quite exquisite. But with the introduction of latte art to my repertoire, I stopped making the the caps as foamy so that I could pour art. I've noticed this at Stumptown and other places as well. Have we lost sight of taste in an effort to impress people visually? Not that these less-foamy, artful caps don't taste good, because they're also delectable, but they aren't quite, well, really caps by my former definition (at least 1/2 foam). At most, they are 1/3 foam.

Then there is the question of, just what makes a cappuccino a cappuccino? Is it simply it's size (6.5 oz)? Or is it the ratio of foam to liquid milk? I kind of suspect that it's more the size than the foam ratio, but that we who pour art in caps are pouring less foam than they would in Italy. I really need to go to Italy and study this...

Just for the Record...

Just for the record, wadding up your napkin, straws, and celophane into a tiny ball and shoving it into your used coffee cup is, surpisingly, not helpful. In fact, if you were trying to make my life harder when I'm washing your dishes, you could do nothing better. I just love prying your used crap out of the bottom of the cup, covered in the remnants of your drink as I ponder the chances that you carry some communicable disease.

Well, some of my fellow baristi and other readers have pointed out that the blog isn't very "angsty."

Yeah, you're right. My first posts were much angrier, but your hurt and worried responses bummed me out. So I started pulling punches. I didn't say things that I wanted to, like "congratulations on being an idiot." I'd really like to say that to some people, but then I think of your whining and protesting and then I start thinking, hey, maybe they're right, maybe I should be that sensitive new-age guy.

Whatever. I'm done with that. I'm getting a thick skin. I'm telling it like it is.

Congratulations on being an idiot.

Now you're all in big, big trouble...

I have been chewing on some nasty gum for quite some time and I'm afraid I have to spit it out now. On you. Sorry. Yes, it is time for another bitter rant.

Our downtown is choked with coffee shops making, at best, mediocre coffee. (My apologies to Colville Street Patisserie. You are the exception. And your food has turned me into your love slave.) (Love slave?I'm sorry, you'd already lost me with the gum part.)
It is my pet theory that these wretched coffee shops (9 of them in the tiny downtown) have opened with a thought process like this:

"Hey, look at all those people in Starbucks."
"Yeah, I just love hanging out there. And they're making lots of money."
"But it's a big corporation. That's not good."
"You're right. Hey, lets open our own shop, like our own Starbucks."
"Yeah, it can be just like Starbucks, but not. "
"That's like, almost deep, man."
"I know."

Starbucks, as vanilla as it is today, started impressively. They were coffee fanatics, inspired by the espresso tradition of Italy--much like other, small, soulful coffee roasters/shops of today. (Espresso Vivace comes to mind.) In contrast, the shops opening up in my little town seem to be using the Starbucks of today (the soul-less corporate shell) as their model--they're trying to out-starbucks Starbucks. That's not an improvement. Indeed, Starbucks is hard to beat at its own game: they are making better coffee than 99% of their imitators. These imitator shops are simply the flip side of the same coin as Starbucks: one side corporate and soul-less; the other small and soul-less. These shops need to take good roasters, good coffee shops as their role models. Go to Italy; go to Portland; Taste amazing espresso. That's inspiring and worth imitating.

If that's too difficult, here are a few suggestions. These shops need to come up with some set of standards. Like, perhaps, cleaning their machines from time to time. Timing their espresso shots. Training their employees. Learning what the following terms mean: doppio, macchiato, ristretto. That would be a really good beginning. If that is too much, please email me, and I will reveal to you all of Starbucks' secrets (I worked there for 3 years), so that you can at least have conistently mediocre coffee. That would still be an improvement.

On Greek Coffee

Gregory, currently of Thessaloniki, Greece, (http://www.edwardsingreece.blogspot.com/ ) inspired this one...

For those of you who have never been to Greece, there is no way that you can understand or appreciate the insanity of life there; Neither will you believe what I say about it, casting my words off as the most ridiculous exaggeration. I assure that in the following essay, I am as level-headed and even-handed as a person can be. I have sustained no head injuries, nor was I recently jilted by a Greek lover. I have no ulterior motive, save perhaps to put painful realities into a humorous light. Indeed, though you will likely deem me harsh and uncouth, to those who know Greece, my words will seem an innocent child's storybook version of the truth: watered down, covering the worst, pulling punches when harsh judgement is required. But I digress...

Greek society does not function; Well, you might say it functions, but in the way that chaos might be said to "function." It's as if someone organized a crazy-person think tank, and Greece was the fruit of its labors. That's not to say that I don't like Greece or the Greek people, because I do. But these people are crazy. They are, literally, ready to riot on a moment's notice for any reason at all. "What's this? A riot? What's the cause? Who cares? I'm in!" Ditto for going on strike. The rule of thumb for Greeks is to consider laws as some sort of personal challenge: something to be conquered, avoided, ignored, but certainly never obeyed. To add to the entertainment, this is a land where rumors are routinely reported as fact on the television news. These people, many of whom are much more educated than I could hope to be, will believe the most ridiculous rumors: "I do no drink the Coca-Cola. They put the blood of babies in it." (What?)

Greeks are perhaps the most xenophobic, ethnocentric people I have met. They will angrily denounce war, especially when it comes to the U.S. (and rightfully so, usually), but they will hear no evil spoken of Alexander the Great and his war conquests. Many of them believe that Christopher Columbus was Greek, and they will fight you (really, fisticuffs, not joking) if you insist otherwise. To Greeks, everything Greek is good, and they don't trust anything from "the outside."

Coffee came to the Greeks via the Turks in the 15th century as they conquered the Roman ("Byzantine") empire. In fact, the first "coffee house" in recorded history was in Constantinople, the former capitol of the Roman (Greek) empire. (A little side note: the term "Greek" is left over propaganda from Charlemagne, not their actual name. Greeks call themselves Hellenes or Romans. The term "Byzantine", likewise is the invention of Western European historians. The "Byzantines" were really "Romans." Now, back to coffee...) The coffee these conquering Turks brought came from the southern tip of the Arabian Peninsula (Yemen) and/or Ethiopia, the birthplace of cafe arabica (good tasting coffee). The Turks, the Greeks, and almost everyone in the eastern Mediterranean prepared coffee by grinding the beans to a fine powder, adding spices and sweeteners and boiling it in a tiny pot called an ibrik. The coffee was served in a tiny (2 oz or so) cup. This is still the the way coffee is prepared today in the near and middle East. It is reasonable to assume that this coffee was fairly high quality. If not up to today's "specialty" standards, at least it did not contain any cafe robusta, that super-nasty tasting coffee originating in the West African low-lands. Greeks and Turks and Armenians and Assyrians and all other people in the Turkish Ottoman Empire roasted and ground their own coffee, thus it was nice and fresh: yummy. This was the status quo from the 15th century more or less until World War II, which saw the shift of coffee agriculture swing to Brazil. Somewhere in the World War and in the ensuing four year civil war, Greeks forgot what coffee was supposed to be like (understandably so). They started using low quality Brazilian robusta beans, perhaps also mixed with low quality arabica. Moreover, they started using a super-light "Cinnamon" roast (a super light brown color of the bean, not cinnamon flavored). It should go without saying that I'm all for light roasts. But the light roast they are using is ridiculously light--right around first crack (about 400 degrees), which is too light even by light roast lovers' standards. That said, I would only roast very high quality coffee at a light roast; the beans the Greeks use is of the lowest grade. If ever there were a case for dark roasted coffee, the beans the Greeks use could be the deal maker. The natural taste of this coffee needs to be covered, destroyed: burn it, add flavorings, anything--the coffee flavor has nowhere to go but up.

If you know Greeks (and I should point out that I have Greek ancestry and lived in Greece for a year), it goes without saying that they cannot hear any of this. They sincerely believe their coffee is wonderful, and might come to blows in an argument if you were to tell them the facts above. They also believe that the coffee they use now is traditional Greek coffee. If you were to give them the fresh-roasted, fresh-ground, African coffee of their ancestors, they would not accept it, believing it to be some exotic innovation (not a compliment for a Greek).

It gets worse still... If you ask a Greek for the "really good stuff," you would probably be served "ena nes," that is, Nescafe instant coffee. The only thing that makes this stuff tolerable is that they usually mix it into a "frappe" (frap-ay), a drink made my mixing a spoonful of instant coffee, a spoon or two of sugar and a tiny bit of water, shaking it all up until it's frothy, then serving it over ice with a bit more cold water and cream. The downside is that they charge you 4 euros for it, and believe it's gourmet.

Well, now you probably think I hate Greece. I do despise the coffee, and the culture can take some getting used to, but I love Greece and look forward to returning. I'll just bring my own coffee...

On Latte Art, Barista Showmanship, and the general effects of too much caffeine on an inflated Ego

Most of you are familiar with Latte art, and generally, you like it. At least I've never heard anyone say, "Please don't put a rosetta on my Latte." (Not that it couldn't happen.) We Baristi usually tell customers that we pour art to highlight our espresso; to show the high quality which differentiates us from others. That may be true. But the real reason we do it is because it's boring to just pour milk over espresso again and again and again. We baristi tend to be over-caffeinated, over-educated (for what we do), and usually a bit ego-maniacal. Pouring lattes is boring. We have an eccess of energy and enthusiasm. We need the challenge of pouring art. And we need to one-up our co-workers and competing coffee shops.

This, by the way, is also why we're flipping our tampers and portafilters and whip cream canisters and cups and anything else we get our hands on. We've got ridiculous amounts of caffeine flowing through our veins; Simple motions no longer feel possible; We HAVE to flip every item we touch. I don't think this actually impresses anyone but ourselves, but we keep flipping. At least it satisfies our neurosis...

On Milk

I spend a good amount of time ranting about you fools who put milk in your coffee to cover up the taste, so it might come as a surprise to find out that I drink at least one milk based coffee beverage a day. It's not hypocrisy though. (Really? It sounds like hypocrisy. Well, it's not. Trust me.) OK, it's hypocrisy.

Recently I tried using a different milk than normal in my cappuccino. I was surprised at how much worse it tasted than my normal milk. Both milks are whole milk, both are all natural, but my regular milk is organic. The organic tastes ridiculously better, creamier, sweeter.

Just thought I'd put that out there...

Dark Roast Rant Update

Well, plenty of you people are still coming in and asking for my "darkest roast." My ranting may be changing things, but only in a very small, slow way.

Today an old farmer came in and asked me for my darkest roast and I didn't even bother to try to educate him. Nope. Just pulled our burntest [sic] coffee off the shelf and sold it to him.

Is the fight worth it? I don't know. I do think that I'm getting worn down by people who know nothing about coffee but refuse to consider the idea that dark roasted coffee might not be the best way to go. Sure, what do I know? Tasting and roasting and preparing coffee is only my profession. But you, well, you probably read a snippet from the side of a Starbucks bag. Please, enlighten the rest of us; tell us how much better a dark roast is.

Mmmm. Tar water...

The morning crew

We're a young coffee shop--9 months old--so we're still developing our "thing" here. What is our thing? Don't know--still working on it. But if our thing, our general "vibe", in the future is anything like what our current crew of morning customers create, I think that would be cool. We have a regular group these days--we know what they're like; they know what we're like; they're getting to know each other pretty well, too. Every morning at the roastery cafe is noisy, haphazard meeting of friends, centered around coffee. There's a lot of good natured ribbing, a bit of coffee geeking, some ranting (mainly by me), and lots of tasty espresso.

Keep it up guys.