Tag Archives: coffee

A dear John to coffee…

by in Coffee, Everyday Life, Love, Random musings, Writing and tagged , , , | Leave a comment

Dear Coffee:

I adore you.

Above all the beverages and vices I rely on, I have been most committed and faithful to you, scarcely missing our morning rendez-vous for going on 30 years now.

Why?

Why then have you forsaken me so?

In a single bump against you, you not only created the single largest cold coffee puddle across my desk, ruining countless to-do lists in an instant. But, you spread across and within every single crevice on and into my trusty keyboard, rendering her useless. I know you have occasionally suffered from neglect at the expense of my keyboard, at times growing cold. But, I’ve always returned to you, my darling dearest Coffee.
As I make an emergency trip to find a replacement keyboard, I’m thinking hard about our relationship. I wonder: Is it time to take a break from one another?

Let’s sleep on it. But,… this hurts, Coffee.

PS … I suspect we both know, come morning, I’ll come crawling back to you, you magical potion. But, still….

Photo courtesy of my friend Puck. 

The Devil’s Brew

by in Beverages, Coffee, Cuba, Dispatches from Cuba, Everyday Life, Random musings, The Cuban and tagged , , , , | Leave a comment

Ask me what I’d rather give up—coffee or breathing—and I’d have to think about it. I suppose it’s a good thing that breathing occurs unconsciously because coffee is always on my mind.

This time of year, my coffee vehicle of choice becomes cold brew, that luscious, dark nectar that provides the quickest of caffeine jolts. With the long-awaited arrival of spring / summer in Helsinki, my precious elixir of life has been sitting and steeping for two days now, all ready to slowly filter (twice) and then sip and savour and enjoy. I’ve been waiting for this process for what seems like years.

Alas, something was slightly amiss when I opened the fridge this morning and reached for the pitcher of black loveliness.

Saatana coffee

To me, cold brew is the elixir of life; to The Cuban, cold brew is ‘The Devil’s brew’. (NB: Saatana in Finnish is Satan.)

My husband, The Joker.

He understands and accepts my love affair with coffee, just as much as he accepts my obsession with office supplies, books, yarn and Roger Federer. But, cold brew evidently is where he draws the line.

To Cubans, coffee is delivered in tiny little cups that resemble those itty bitty china tea sets for children’s make-believe tea parties. Those cups, which are so cute, simply don’t provide more than a sip or a gulp. In other words, it’s a coffee fairytale. The first time someone handed me a ‘cup’ of coffee in Cuba, I thought they were joking. ‘Where’s the rest of it?’, I asked The Cuban. He quickly explained that Cubans drink tiny cups throughout the day rather than opting for my giant bowl with a handle vessel. [NB: I now know to ask for a double every single time I ask for coffee in Cuba. It’s just easier and less disappointing that way.] Shortly thereafter, The Cuban developed the ‘Vanessa drinks coffee this way…’ explanation. I’m fairly certain our friends and family all think I’m certifiable or so wired that my heart will leap out of my chest at any moment. But, I will have my proper dosage of caffeine.

cafe cubano wink

Two cups from a friend’s flat in Havana. Each cup featured a different face. As cute as they are, they’re fall too small for this girl’s coffee.

Despite the Cuban climate being insanely hot and humid especially when compared to Finland, cafe cubano is always served hot and just off the stove, typically with sugar. To my mind, cold brew is perfect for those sultry, sticky days and nights. I am so wrong, it would appear. My husband’s reaction upon introduction to cold brew went something like this:

‘Cold brew?! What is this evilness you are making? You’re ruining the coffee! Have I taught you nothing?!’… as if this girl ever needed lessons on making or drinking coffee.

So, this morning’s little message, one of a million tiny quickly scribbled notes scattered across our 12 years together, once again made me laugh silently and smile adoringly. To my darling husband, cold brew is indeed ‘The Devil’.

He may have embraced a more reasonable measuring cup by which to drink his own coffee. You know, a proper cup of coffee (still far too small for me, but progress is progress). And, I may have accepted the joke that is a Cuban thimble of coffee. But, just as I’ve had to draw the line at a respectable size for that all-important cup of coffee in the morning, The Cuban evidently drew his own line at cold brew.

Something tells me my summer caffeine jolt will now and forever be known as ‘The Devil’s Brew’.

Day 50: Proekt 365 (Coffee for the masses)

by in #365grateful, Finland, Helsinki, Random musings and tagged , | Leave a comment
Day 50: Proekt 365 Coffee, coffee everywhere; not a drop to drink

Day 50: Proekt 365
Coffee, coffee everywhere; not a drop to drink

Finland consumes more coffee per capita than any other country on the planet, and by quite some margin. On average, 12.0 kg are consumed per coffee capita each year in Finland. (Yes, I did actually type ‘per coffee’ there, before realising what I’d done.) I’m guessing that we lie at the higher end of that particular scale, and possibly represent outliers.

But, I like this stat. In fact, I love it.

Yesterday, a friend and I spied this scene from a renovation site in the Helsinki city centre. Rather appropriate given where we are. We didn’t see any of the individuals who consumed these various cups. Perhaps they were on a coffee break.

Day 3: Proekt 365

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Day 3: Proekt 365

Day 3: Proekt 365

I love coffee. The darker the roast, the better. The richer, deeper the flavour, the better. If you asked me to give up coffee, it’d have to be for something incredibly extraordinary to warrant any consideration at all (e.g., ending poverty and all forms of social injustice, all wars and acts of violence and human suffering). Even then, I’d have to really think about it. (I jest…but only slightly.)

From that first sip as a young girl, I have enjoyed a special relationship with coffee. And, each day begins with coffee first and foremost.

At one point in my life, I always had a cup of coffee with me. This habit was so persistent and recognised amongst my social network that a professor of mine once brought me a comforting cup of coffee minutes before a presentation at a national conference. I cannot tell you how much that boosted my confidence (and how much it meant to me on a personal level as well — thanks, Bill!). It was also at that time that my thesis advisor and I would discuss research and work on her NIH project and my thesis project over an afternoon coffee break, often sharing the cup of very fine coffee she was making for herself. (Honestly, I didn’t arrive ‘just in time’ on purpose, Kathy!) At that time in my life, I was probably a 20-cup a day coffee fiend. Pretty much every part of my day involved coffee and I’d never, ever turn down a good cup of joe. Once, my local supplier in Connecticut asked me to taste coffees as a means of quality control in order to help them decide to contract a new supplier (I gave the supplier a thumb’s down and left that little treat of a tasting quite literally flying). I’ve long since cut way back on my daily caffeine intake, partially for general health reasons and partially to allow me to sleep a little more easily.

My daily coffee routine (or ritual?) these days is consistent. My first ‘cup’ (which, if you’ve seen my cup, resembles a bowl with a handle rather than a traditional 8-oz cup) brews whilst I am launching the various applications I use every day at my desk. Mostly, I am just wasting time until I can get that first cup down my gullet and coursing through my veins. I’m useless until I have at least half a cup of my go-go juice in the morning. During that first cup, it’s my time to sort out my goals and targets for the day, take care of any lingering administrative crap, tidy up the kitchen if necessary and generally enjoy a calm, quiet and serene start to a new day.

I’m now a two- or -three cuppa girl and generally consume those luscious cups before 15.00 or 16.00 in the afternoon. (This is no problem since I’m an early riser on most days.) I must have at least one full cup before I leave the house (which does mean setting an alarm to allow time for that precious re-fueling ritual) and will leave the house with the second in hand. My favourite coffees are all dark roasts: Ethiopian, Tanzanian Peaberry, Sumatra Mandheling, Brazilian Kalosi, Guatemalan Antigua and, of course, Cuban Turquino. One of the best coffees I’ve ever had is the typical hard currency Cuban brand, Cubita.

I was recently reminded of the ‘origin’ of coffee, which is silly and awesome at once. Evidently, 12th century goats danced from bush to bush eating those fine berries, which was observed and copied by their goatherder, Kaldi.

‘Hooray for goats!’, I say. And, thanks, Kaldi! I cannot imagine a world without coffee.

The Ultimate Go-Go Juice

by in Beverages, Cuba, Food, Graduate school and tagged , , | Leave a comment

Give me intravenous coffee as an alarm -- the perfect alarm clock.

As I opened up my various daily news sources, I had to chuckle when this headline and the associated image at alternet.org popped up. Intravenous coffee as an alarm clock has long been my idea of the perfect gift/gadget.

I love coffee. It’s taste. It’s smell. The various ways in which you can brew it. And, most of all, I love the varieties. I’m a bit of a snob in some ways in that my perfect cup of joe is a fresh dark roast finely ground just minutes before brewed. Most days, I’ll take whatever I can get as long as it is extremely strong and a rich dark roast.

As an undergraduate in Atlanta, I’d normally start the day with an entire pot of coffee. At the time, hazelnut was my preferred flavor (can’t stand it anymore). I had this huge 32-oz coffee mug that I’d carry with me throughout each day during classes. I’d run to the commissary in between classes to fill it up. At the peak of my consumption, the tally was shocking—something like more than 20 cups a day on average. As I said, shocking.

In graduate school both at The University of Alabama–Tuscaloosa and at The University of Connecticut in Storrs, we were fortunate to have brilliant coffee joints on or close to campus. In Tuscaloosa, the coffee shop across the strip from campus (and luckily a mere 5-minute walk from my flat) would roast their beans in-house. The smell was amazing, and the coffee matched that aroma. It was then that I realised just how yummy a fresh dark roast can be. My consumption went down, but the enjoyment of the coffee increased. My favourite cups of joe were those shared with my thesis advisor, mentor and friend, normally in the afternoon.

In Storrs at UConn, Java Joint became my daily dose source. This is where I learned what flavours I truly enjoyed. Tanzanian Peaberry. Sumatra. Ethiopian something or other. Brazilian Santos. Guatemalan Antigua. I think of them all the Sumatran and the Brazilian Santos were and still are my favourites.

Every day, I’d arrive at the little trailer which became a bigger trailer which eventually became a proper shop inside the bookstore with my more manageable thermos and have it filled with the most divine coffee. I’d usually stop in sometime later in the day in the afternoon before a seminar or office hours or a meeting with a committee member. Occasionally, the cup of joe would serve as a prop and pick me up during a peripatetic meeting with a close friend and intellectual giant with whom I was fortunate enough to work. I miss those days, and I desperately miss that coffee.

Bags of cafe de cuba from a fantastic coffee shop in Havana, Cuba.

These days, I’ll take whatever dark roast I can get. The latest great-tasting coffee to hit our kitchen is Cuban coffee. It’s subtle and lovely, and packs an outstanding kick. The Cubans in my life think anything other than a thimble’s worth of coffee is too much. I’m quite happy to enjoy two cups a day now.

That said, it’s time for that second cup.