Posted in June 2012

Cold Coffee: Bar Logic

I have no problem with beating dead horses, so here it goes: Oliver Strand’s recent NYT article, “I Know What You Did Last Summer,” serves as a good iced coffee summary and well-written cold coffee argument. Unfortunately, arguing for or against exclusively serving a type of cold coffee method fundamentally makes no sense.

It is comparable to a beer enthusiast arguing for or against a chocolate stout as opposed to an IPA; the two are simply different brews, yielding different results, highlighting different desirable qualities of a multi-faceted beverage and all beer enthusiasts understand that. Certainly, within each category there is plenty of argument to be had over technique and recipe, but to compare two different styles is ultimately a moot argument.

However, to continue the beer analogy, consider a scenario in which your favorite bar stopped giving you a choice. Instead, when you ask for an IPA, Steve the Bartender just says, “Sorry. We brew our beer with the chocolate stout method.”

Obviously this scenario sounds absurd, so why is it that coffee shops — plainly within a culture increasingly congruent to bar culture — cannot offer a bar-like choice between two or three different brews?

The obvious response for many cafes would be a lack of customer interest. Connoisseurs might rejoice, but for those who don’t want to taste, but just drink their morning joe on ice, the prospect of yet another decision seems frustrating. However, this speaks to another issue, one which I will perhaps expound upon another time: menu clutter. By simplifying menus, offering fewer (or no) sizing choices and allowing the picky customers to simply request minutiae off-menu, more choices about the content of the coffee itself become feasible.

Once again, bars don’t ask if you want a 10, 12, 16 or 20 ounce beer. They do it their way and that’s okay. In fact, it’s better that way.

I propose a sensible, all-inclusive cold coffee menu that offers cold brew, Japanese iced and Cambridge (and cold bloom, if you dare) in the same spirit as a hot coffee menu that offers pour-over, Aeropress and French Press.

Customers in search of a tasting experience will be thrilled, having the chance to make a drink feel like their own without kitschy, hyphen-laden qualifiers. Customers who just want iced coffee can ask for just that and get a regular cup of cold brew, load it with cream and enjoy. Cafe owners and baristas get to experiment with a wide range of techniques and offer a more customized experience. Coffee culture expands and, instead of hearing the same needless cold brew vs. Japanese iced argument, we can return to discussing the merits of truly comparable techniques within each domain of cold coffee.

That all sounds a bit romantic? I agree, but I’ll trade our stale iced coffee debate for any single one of those victories.

 

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New Champion Crowned!

Congratulations to Raul Rodas, a.k.a. El Tigre, on earning the title of 2012 World Barista Champion! For more coverage, check out Sprudge.

Raul Rodas 2012 WBC

Photo courtesy of Sprudge.com

Also be sure to check out his finals performance here!

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Mug Shots, Ep. 2

Mug Shots, Ep. 2

“What the hell do you want?” he seemed to say. How could I resist! The first mug on Mug Shots to actually have a face, this wood-fired masterpiece was crafted by one of the fine folks at Union Project in Pittsburgh. Though you might not guess it from the above photo, the sculpture does hold about six ounces.

Mug Shots 2 Montage

To find out more about the art cooperatives and community events at the Union Project, visit http://www.unionproject.org/

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This Is Coffee?

He’s taken some artistic liberty with his definition of a cappuccino, but Mr. Coffee Brewing Institute certainly has one thing right: “Success lies in a single word: care.”

Well, two things if you include the saucy moment at 11:55.

Related poem: “Mother’s Day”

Thanks to Dan Trew for this contribution.

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Trust

On the drive to my parents’
house, my home

roasted coffee baked in the
passenger seat,

giving it the distinct flavor of
raw potatoes.

For three days (not that
I’m counting)

I drink my family’s
preferred brew:

pre-ground cinnamon-enhanced
half-caf, boldly

brewed by an apparently
audacious machine.

My mother knows I
like coffee

brewed modestly by hand;
she knows

I take pride in my home
roasted beans,

so she grimaces when her mother
complements the beverage:

a charmingly over-hyphenated
parlor trick. But

What makes my coffee better?
she asks earnestly –

a good question considering
she cannot taste it

presently, but a good question
regardless.

It’s third-wave single-origin
specialty coffee,

I could say — a charmingly over-hyphenated
bland response.

Or I could describe flavor notes,
but I don’t know how to

explain color to the blind, so I
clumsily hand her

my own reasons in their solid form,
but the answers

I know seep through my fingers,
clearly lost

in the exchange. I begin to doubt
my trust

in these answers; they cannot be held
captive by words,

so they are as difficult to hold as they are
to swallow.

Driving back to my apartment and home
roasting lab

affords my mind enough time to
properly ferment;

But the following morning found my hollowness
quelled by

Doty’s words, inscribed beneath my
experimental brews:

No trust ever held
in constancy –

foreshadowing the day’s first patron
of my craft

who has come to remember that
which had since

slipped through his fingers, which
by its escape

has earned the ever-growing
heft of the genuine.

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