Bottled Up

Every so often, this Bay Area baby needs his Bottle.

I speak, of course, of Blue Bottle Coffee Company, the apotheosized Mission District java mecca—and subject of a September 2011 Fortune feature—that, much to my delight, recently reached the Right Coast.  A cleverly re-purposed Berry St. industrial space in Williamsburg, Brooklyn, has become their base of East Coast operations, housing a full-fledged roastery, baking facilities and a coffee bar earning instant respect from resident neighborhood hipsters (and they're a very discriminating crowd).  Word on the street has founder James Freeman frequenting the site on a bi-monthly if not more basis, ensuring the same San Francisco treat caffeine connoisseurs have come to expect from the Blue Bottle brand.

Even in a town so stubbornly stuck on its Starbucks, Blue Bottle's refreshingly unconventional dogma has earned it a fast following in Gotham, spreading by word of mouth and slipping into conversations lubricated by lead-ins like, "There's a place in Brooklyn with s'mores made from moonshine-laced marshmallows," or "Have you heard of the place with these crazy $20-grand Japanese coffee brewers?"  The company recently dropped pop-up perk points at such trafficked sites as High Line Park and Milk Studios, and will debut its second brick-and-mortar bar at Rockefeller Center this November. Not bad for a company humbly launched in 1999 as a bean counter in a Hayes Valley garage, and has barely been here a year and a half (the Berry Street roastcafé only opened in Spring 2010).

The entire roastery operation in Williamsburg, though partitioned,
is plainly visible to perking patrons in the building's cafe section,
offering an insider's look at what it takes to keep Blue Bottle brewing.

 My waits between fixes here are far too long—some more than others, but every one worth it. To get there takes being sardined onto any Bedford Ave.-bound cattle car L train, where fresh air is a premium, space is a luxury and comfort zones are too often nonexistent.  This was all too exacerbated during my first visit, when full service on the line was temporarily discontinued and Bedford became the transfer between two Manhattan and Canarsie-bound shuttle trains, creating a nightmarish scenario for anyone first boarding there on account of having to constantly compete with connecting passengers to plunge through the closing doors (which, despite pleas from increasingly irate MTA employees, few who missed three trains already seemed patient to stand clear of).  Subsequent trips have thankfully been more bearable.  Plus, even the slowest hop skip into the BK beats six hours in an airborne aluminum can back for a fix where Tony Bennett left his heart.

Lost in Nom: Blue Bottle's signature Stout
Coffee Cake w/Caraway Streusel

Today's trip involved finally trying Blue Bottle's much mentioned stout coffee cake, which after attending the Village Voice Brooklyn Pour the previous two weekends ago put the idea fresh in mind.  While the original secret to the revered recipe, developed by pastry chef Caitlin Williams Freeman (the founding Freeman's wife), was said to be Stout of Circumstance from Haight-Ashbury's Magnolia Gastropub, the Eastern equivalent substitutes Brooklyn Brewery's Black Chocolate Stout—true to their mantra of sourcing only local and sustainable ingredients.  Whatever the case, the resulting crisp but doughy delectable is, at least as far as I'm concerned, the chef-d'oeuvre of perk-paired pastries.  The caraway streusel crumble, grazing the pleasant of rolled oats and currant nuances,  complements the pecan flavors of moister inner contents that, with a swig of your latte, seems so sinful it should be banned in six southern states.

From its avant-garde business model to delivery of a consistently perfect product, Blue Bottle has proven itself the fresh, exciting force of positive energy in the coffee industry New York, New York needed.  To evoke some Sinatra, you've made it here—you'll make it anywhere.

Fact: You won't find a Kyoto brewer more stoke anywhere else in the five boroughs.
(Or in Connecticut, Long Island, Rhode Island, and definitely not...New Jersey).

Dark Roast

In our modern, high voltage times, there's few perks to being powerless.  The only thing worse than waking up to no power is not having the coffee to cope with it.  It's bad enough being deprived on a good day, let alone one where your house is 48º and you can't even shower because your well pump is as functional as the IRS.  Thanks to the cooperative incompetence of monopoly-holding utility companies with our collective proverbial balls in a vice grip and the "crisis management" politicians who afford them the disincentive for bringing their grid into the 21st century (or even the 20th), this is becoming an increasing problem in places like Upstate New York and Southern New England, where trees abound and the hilariously archaic Teddy Roosevelt-era technology of wire on ceramic insulator on rotting wooden poles are perpetual targets of deep-rooted assassins.  What also makes these areas so incredibly great is that, aside from being some of the highest taxed in the nation, residents receive virtually no basic services, are reliant entirely upon well water (needs power), septic (needs water), and also facing frigid temperatures (needs coffee, which needs water and, for most people, power).  So when the power goes in these places, you're pretty, well, boned.

Unless you live in Lancaster, Pennsylvania, you're probably not prepared for two, three, four or more mornings without juice, and if your per diem perk comes from a Keurig or Mr. Coffee, you might not have a backup plan in place for your brewed awakening.  So if the status quo of our crumbling infrastructure chooses to torture you in this way, here's some hints at solving what will certainly be the least of your problems.

Rule 1) Always keep at least a two day supply of pre-ground in a cool, dry place.
Sure it won't be fresh, and you never know when you'll need it—but unless you've got an old school manual grinder handy, it's this or instant.  What's crap coffee on a good day beats nothing on a bad day.  Stocking a stash of pre-ground could save your sanity.

Rule 2) Be ready to fire.
This is when pyromania proves productive.  With wattage-requiring heat sources out, you'll need fuels for open fire.  If you've got a gas stove, fireplace, or BBQ grill, then great, fantastic, you're set!  If you don't, well, crap.  Consider keeping a butane torch, or canisters of chafing fuel like Sterno, in your emergency kit.  Yankee Candles aren't exactly economical, nor put out nearly enough BTUs, but I suppose a bold last resort.

Rule 3) MacGyver.
It's only human to be under prepared, so plan appropriately expecting an inevitable cruise or two on the failboat.  In our recent 6-day episode, I failed to abide by Rule 1 by replacing the pre-ground stash I depleted during the 5-day one preceding it by barely two months.  I solved the problem by bringing the battery backup off my Mac into the kitchen, plugging in the grinder and, in a moment of longing for instant gratification, even tapped in the Keurig for a cuppa.  (The remainder of the charge then replenished my MacBook battery, which was in turn draining to recharge my iPhone).  Best investment ever.

So even if you're stuck opening your garage door by hand and you smell like the sweaty leg of an Occupy Wall Street protester that's been in a cast for two months, you don't have to drive somewhere for overinflated caffeination.  This concludes my potentially pointless post.

Espresso 101

Yes, corporate coffee clowns—it takes more than the press of a button.  At least if it's done right, anyway.  From the famed Ritual Roasters in San Francisco's Mission District (and Octavia; and Jerrold Ave; and the Oxbow Market in Napa; and a roving repurposed 1950s camper trailer affectionately called "Sputnik"):

(Personal note: Having worked with vintage steam locomotives from the earlier part of the last century [and latter part of the previous one—aka, the 19th], I have an above average appreciation not just for any system wherein the human mind is entrusted with exponentially more skill than with the modern, computerized counterpart, but the willingness to practice "old fashioned way" despite the advent of an easier—though not necessarily superior—alternative.  Artisanal baristas of the world, I salute you.)

Me Joulies

First off, props to any Ali G. fans who get this post title.  Booyakasha.

Google is glorious, even if they are plotting to take over the world.   In searching for stoke stocking stuffers of caffeinated relevance, I came across this Kickstarter page pimping a clever new product to prospective bankrollers.

Hypothetical situation.  You're sitting at your desk with freshly poured perk that's too hot to drink.  Far too wee in the work day to sear your tongue like tuna tataki on the grill at Benihana, you set it aside, knowing it will be safely sippable sometime in the next several minutes.  Sometime in this dubious cooling period you've mentally allotted your cuppa, your boss saunters his egregious presence into the cubicle colony, peers downward into your carpet-lined hell cell of corporate conformity and either demands that one task you dread doing without caffeinated armament, or shares stories from his Sandals all-inclusive family getaway on some Caribbean island named for a fake-sounding saint you couldn't care less about.  And when the distraction is done, it's too late!  The warmth window has shut.  The virgin pour cooled into a cold, bitter spinster.  Nevertheless, you'll down it in despair.

It's a status quo we've come to accept.  And seriously, what's more offensive than the thought of microwaving a latte?  There must be something to stop this torture.

...and that's why these guys invented Joulies:

Coffee Joulies from Coffee Joulies on Vimeo.

Perk and Poltergeists

Happy pagan-derived fall solstice holiday that's been so stripped of meaning by the marketing machine its original meaning is today even more watered down than diner decaf.  Thank the jolly Irish and their consuming copious quantities of distilled barley spirits for giving us Samhain (sow-win; Gaelic for "summer's end"), a time when they believed the dead would walk among us and guttersnipes would go door to door soliciting food, offering prayers for the dead in return—"souling," as it was called.  Somehow, masquerades got into this mix, and the reciprocity went wayside in favor of filling the plastic pumpkin with Reeses and running off on a sugar high.  Selfish darn kids.

But I digress.  Being a java junkie who digs ghost stories, the thought of a haunted coffee house seemed about as good as it gets, and wouldn't you know it, I found just that.  Despite the spooktastic strobe-lighted walk through it sets up in a storage closet, Bank Square Coffee House in Beacon, NY (about an hour north of Manhattan, and which I affectionately call Williamsburg North), doesn't need to do anything special to get in the spirit of the season: the place is apparently crawling with living impaired personalities.  Even having been to Beacon and the cafe (formerly the Muddy Cup) numerous times, I had no idea about any of it until stumbling upon this video—though the historical factoid bomb drop helps the place's unusual floor plan and ramp towards the back room, make so much more sense.  That, coupled with beans bought locally at Coffee Labs Roasters a dozen miles downriver in Sleepy Hollow country, makes a trip to Bank Square a Halloween season must.

Holiday Wish List: Part One

Maybe I'm selfish, or spoiled, or both—but with the cold front already blowing through town, it's a subject crossing my mind.  After all, what else is a young bohemian recessionista to do living a paycheck to paycheck existence off sometimes sporadic freelance jobs, aside from wear flannel shirts and anxiously await the release of the new Coldplay album?

Everyone's Christmachanukwanzakuh list should clearly include sort of caffeinated swag, if only a photo mug off Cafe Press you'll probably cry after inevitably breaking at some point in time.  But here's some better prospective presents to throw down on your dadstie.com universal wish list (a great gift registry site/iPhone app guaranteeing grandma sweater and repeat reduction by streamlining your wants from multiple retailers all in one place).

Bodum's Santos Stovetop Vacuum Coffee Maker
 ($89 at Williams-Sonoma)
It's affordable and sounds like Santa, what's not to love?  Siphon pots are in.  New Yorkers, the most shameless trend stalkers alive, think Blue Bottle (which basically brought them here) is the bombest thing in Brooklyn since IKEA opened in Red Hook, surely in some part because of these things.  Slightly less sophisticated than the butane burner Hario or Yama versions, it's affordable, works with any crappy apartment stove or hotplate and can be easily scored at your local mall.  Cool beans.

Kone 
($50 from Coava Coffee Roasters)
I've been truly trying to justify dropping half a Benjamin on a 2-1/2" diameter stainless steel cone.  I mean, just look at it—is it not the most sexy, minimalist piece of perk paraphernalia you've ever seen?  This metal pourover filter, custom commissioned by Portland's Coava Coffee Roasters, hybridizes a Chemex and french press by allowing aromatic oils and sediment to pass for a smooth but bodied brew.  Designed to fit the neck of most pour-over brewers, the Kone can permanently displace its paper predecessor, and despite the hefty price tag comes with the reward of being engineered and manufactured entirely in the US of A.  The unofficial Kone motto, etched on each one: "Designed in Portland, steel from Ohio, etched and welded in Connecticut."  (If the economy hit exceptionally hard this year, the Kone's basic functionality can be more or less roughed by your stocking itself.  J/K!)

PRODUKT
 [translation: Cheap-As-Dirt Scandinavian Frothing Wand]
($2.99 at Ikea)
I again must helplessly evoke my favorite fiberboard furniture-and-such superstore for income-starved yet stylistically demanding young adult consumers.  Save yourself or a loved one a few pieces of gelt and grab this Aerolatte alternative from the downstairs kitchen junk section, which forthcoming Cuppa Magazine co-editor Kristina Scoppa says "I absolutely love" and insists works as well as any.  It's a superb stocking stuffer—and even if it does break (hers hasn't, a few years in), it cost less than a latte.

Pound Bag of Handsome Espresso
($21.50 from Handsome Coffee Roasters)
I can't stop raving about this roast from breakaway Intelligentsia stalwarts Mike Phillips and Tyler Wells, which I discovered trying to score some Black Cat at a local perk point and being told it had been replaced with this.  Chicago's loss was clearly LA's gain.  To avoid going off ad nauseam on the subject, read my original review here.  Give me a pound, dog. 

Chemex
(Anywhere between $28-42 from pretty much everywhere)
A classic never dies.  The consummate pourover coffeemaker, developed by German chemist Dr. Peter J. Schlumbohm in 1941, seems little more than a laboratory flask with a filter cone stuffed down its spout, but it's cult classic design is virtually unchanged since seven decades ago—a bold statement simple is beautiful.  Today, it's offered in 3, 6, 8 and 10 cup varieties, and in a dishwasher-safe glass handle series.I personally call it the "sexpot," because as far as arousal by inanimate objects go, I think this one fills the cup.  It's even scored a spot in the permanent collections of MoMA and the Smithsonian, sharing space with the work of Henry Dreyfuss, Jonathan Ive and other legendary industrial design doyens.  Treat it well and this wooden-handled, leather-strapped goodness is also a guaranteed sound investment (I recently saw a gritty circa 1960s 6-cupper for $68—nearly twice the price of a new one!)

Stay tuned for Part 2—sometime between now and Black Friday.

The Hamptons: A Caffeinated Critique

The trees are turning, apple orchards crowding and hay-lined fields of orange oblongs have sprouted from every church lawn and vacant lot in sight. Despite being 80 degrees and the surfcasters still out on the beach below Montauk Lighthouse, it's unfortunately quite official: the Hamptons summer season has ended.  It's a fact I'm as reluctant to accept as the United States Government does recession or lingering double digit unemployment (which you can thank, in part, for this blog).  Nevertheless, now that I have, I embrace the season of cider donuts and the annual dusting off ritual of my It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown DVD.

Now with the busyness of boating and beach vegation subsided and yours truly now slowly regaining his concept of time, I figured, what better time to reflect and tease myself with what I'll be waiting another 7 months for by wordsmithing a summer caffeinated critique East End's premier perk points?

My family has had a home amidst this summer playground for four generations, and despite its fame for world-class restaurants, $20m Sagaponack sandcastles and Billy Joel sightings, this celebrated vacatia was until recently a relatively rough climate for java junkies, with only corporate caffeine or diner-grade dishwater to be had.  My summers became characterized by being rudely shoved into in line at the Southampton Golden Pear by Fabio-esque Eurotrash in man capris trying to pull off the cardigan-as-a-scarf look on a 90-degree July day or the broletariat en route to Neptune's—and you can bet your macchiato none of them ever said "excuse me."  Just way too many v-necks and blowouts way too early in the morning for a mediocre cuppa.

But the New York City coffee revolution rubbed off on its summer satellite location.  In the 1990s, Hampton Coffee Company and Java Nation established the South Fork's first real roasteries.  FourBucks and Panera Bread augmented diners and Dunkin' Donuts, and non-coffee centric establishments like The Golden Pear, Southampton Village Cheese Shop and Westhampton's Beach Bakery bought espresso machines.  So much steam did the gourmet caffeinated cause gain that, in 2008, the unthinkable happened: the Southampton Starbucks closed.  Two years later came Coffee Tauk and city stalwart Jack's Stir Brew.  Who knows what's next?

So don't be that shmuck standing in line amongst the tourist masses grabbing a green cup in a converted Bridgehampton bank vault.  Here's the best options to buy local and taste the best bean-soaked water the greater Hamptons has to offer (and the rest probably aren't worth mentioning).


We've Got Jack
Jack's Stir Brew (Amagansett)

And we couldn't be prouder.  This West Village institution, New York City's first fair-trade perk purveyor, established its easternmost location in Amagansett in the Spring of 2010 and completed the hipster fisherman-themed cafe in something like 72 hours from start to finish—almost certainly under the influence of certain bean-derived stimulants.  Even President Obama is said to have stopped in for a cuppa from Jack Mazzola's patented stir brewer.  Hardly just a 212 trend anymore, the third location makes its home in an eclectically decorated cottage on the south side of Montauk Highway brimming with maritime memorabilia, from dock crate tables to fish nets strung from the ceiling.  How about a Happy Jack (triple ristretto latte with fresh honey) over an organic vegan kosher scone?  The cafe is so chock full of piquant vegan and fair trade specialty foods it nearly doubles as an organic market, some so figurately crunchy they could make common granola seem as offensive as veal.  While I'll avoid ranking the remainder of my perk picks, I'll unabashedly name Jack's of Amagansett my favorite spot to score perk anywhere on the East End—and count it among my all-time favorite ever.  Year round.  $5 credit card minimum.

Beans to an End
Coffee Tauk (Montauk)

Montauk gained this minimalist-chic cosmopolitan coffee spot in Summer 2010, and it's earned a fast and loyal following from grommets to grandpas.  Set in a brand new digs on a quiet block between the beach and village,  it made gnarly first impressions with its punny name, drawn from 1990s Mike Myers SNL character Linda), flashy flat screen monitor menus and consistently poured latte rosettas.  But despite the diggable ambiance, the espresso possessed an overwhelmingly lemony bitterness of robusta that, no matter how hard I tried to like it, just wasn't working for me.  Perhaps it was growing pains, as this summer found baristas pulling smooth shots of Gimme! as good as any.  The cafe itself, a bright, well-lighted space with molded metal seats, is a slight throwback to mid-90s Silicon Valley cybercafe.  (Extra points for the hands-free foam soap dispenser in the facility).  Coffee Tauk currently serves exclusively Gimme! coffee, including their proprietary Fisherman's Blend, complimented by pastries from Mary's Marvelous in Amagansett and chilled selections from Il Laboratorio from Gelato.  My only complaint: the pasty case was empty by every afternoon visit I've made all summer.  Closed Oct-April.  Credit cards accepted.

Bene Here
Aldo's (Greenport)

Most local java joints are business ventures.  Others you get the sense aren't so much businesses, rather one person with a passion.  Meet the encyclopedic example.  Sicilian-born barista and biscottier Aldo Maiorana is somewhat of a celebrity in Greenport, sprinkling the air with sweet otherworldly aromas to lure locals and tourists alike into his labor of love Front Street microroastery instead of the Starbucks across the street.  From his hand-crafted coffees to doughy, fresh-from-the-oven scones, everything Aldo touches turns to perfection.  His artisanal roasts represent an innate mastery only understandable when watching him in action, as patrons frequently can.  Like a piano tuner working by ear, he seems to use sensory guidance, not methodology, to attain the desired results.  That apparent natural gift and unfaltering personal standards bring nothing but bold, stately flavors from every cup: eloquently pronounced, not overpowering and not in the least bit watercolor.  A step into his storefront, which sits seemingly at a slant, is instantaneous teleportation to a 1930s Neopolitan espresso bar.  There's no signs advertising free WiFi, and no smooth jazz.  A copper-domed Rancilio espresso maker, a relic of perk past where "pulling shots" was done literally—by yanking a handle—flanks the entrance, though doesn't get the per diem use.  It's fun to look at while you're waiting in lengthy lines of those whose noses also caught the baking beans or doughy, fresh-from-the-oven scones and rode it straight to the source.  After all, Aldo is an artist, and any impatient customers who can't appreciate that are welcome to cross the street. Year round.  Cash Only.

Estate Grown (For Those Who Own Them)
Hampton Coffee Co. (Water Mill, Westhampton Beach)

Opened in 1994, Hampton Coffee Company in Water Mill is a veritable cornucopia for breakfast bon vivants.  Located along Montauk Highway at Deerfield Rd, this converted auto garage compound is home to the company's roasting facilities, a full-service breakfast cafe, third party guest kiosk (most recently the Soft Serve Fruit Company) and most importantly, a to go-style espresso bar with a full line of hot and cold caffeinated beverages.  You're likely to spot the Southampton Range Rovers convoy lining up on Saturday morning, but not to fear: even the worst parking situations still beat the line at Golden Pear.  Once you're in, you'll be greeted by the greatness of their rich, bodied roasts, a sizable selection of Monin flavor syrups and a FourBucks-style menu boards.  Owners Jason and Theresa Belkin opened a second location in Westhampton Beach in 2002, and maintain a mobile unit dispatched to cater the caffeination needs ot the Hampton Classic and other area events. Most recently, a Hampton Coffee-branded espresso bar also opened inside Sag Harbor's hip LT Burger. Year round.  Credit cards accepted.

Bohemian Rhapsody
Java Nation (Sag Harbor)

Java Nation is a hidden gem, that welcome bastion of "Un-Hampton" your average tourist might not find—nor would locals want them to.  A few steps in from Main Street, the side alley microroastery, decorated only by a Diedrich drum roaster and painted burlap coffee sacks, is grittier than the glitzy Golden Pear down the block, but in every way more fit for the storied whaling town historically home to salty sea captains and John Steinbeck.  The concentration here is the coffee with little else to distract, which is great considering it's what you came for.  My average latte here has been more of a wet cappuccino—you won't wind rosettas poured in your crema—but the product, while simple in presentation, is unfaltering fresh.  It's more of a grab-and-go joint you probably won't want to linger in, but there's a few nice tables on the outside patio, and you can always imbibe over a walk down Long Wharf to gawk Jimmy Buffett's 180'+ "Continental Drifter" and the rest of the Cayman Navy.  Year round.

Half Caff
These spots aren't all about joe and might not fancily free pour with latte art, but they're all great, local, non-corporate establishments for a brewed awakening—and each a draw in their own right:

Tate's Bake Shop — Southampton (serves Aldo's)
The Golden Pear — Southampton/Bridghampton/East Hampton/Sag Harbor
Blue Duck Bakery Café — Southampton (serves Hampton Coffee Co.) 
Water Mill Cupcake Co.  — Water Mill 
Mary's Marvelous — Amagansett
The Village Gourmet Cheese Shop — Southampton
Beach Bakery Café — Westhampton Beach

For a taste of the Hampton's most unusual perk point, stop in Sag Harbor's Sylvester & Co., a postmodern 21st century general store complete with its own self serve coffee bar.  No espresso, but what did you expect?

Note: Unless noted otherwise, remember most of these fine perk purveyors do their thing open year round.  So if you're out east during the off season, be sure to stop in and show them some love—they'll be needing it.

UPDATE: Re-run!  http://westhampton-hamptonbays.patch.com/blog_posts/the-hamptons-a-caffeinated-critique

 

"Here’s to the crazy ones. The misfits. The rebels. The troublemakers. The round pegs in the square holes. The ones who see things differently. They’re not fond of rules. And they have no respect for the status quo. You can quote them, disagree with them, glorify or vilify them. About the only thing you can’t do is ignore them. Because they change things. They push the human race forward. And while some may see them as the crazy ones, we see genius. Because the people who are crazy enough to think they can change the world, are the ones who do." 

(Original instagr.am works—taken on an iPhone and uploaded from a MacBook)

National Coffee Day. Whatever.

Thursday was National Coffee Day.  What kind of coffee blogger trying to make a name for himself doesn't post on National Coffee Day?  A Jewish one.  Or at least, a half-Jewish one looking for a good excuse.

And since being half and half (something I never pollute my cuppa with, by the way) demands double family holiday obligations, I stuffed my Kipling duffel bag, pre-ground enough fresh roast to last the weekend and did what any good New York [semi]te does for Rosh Hashannah weekend: I headed for the Hamptons and indulged in glatt gluttony to sponge the very non-kosher Ruffino chianti from my stomach.

That—and my firm belief that to a true java junkie such as myself, every day is National Coffee Day.  I'll let my declared Facebook religion attest to that (I'll give you a hint: it starts with "c" and has nothing to do with a guy nailed to a cross).  So while I won't knock it, and say carpe diem to the marketing departments of my favorite roasteries with the mosteries, the mainstream declaration of yet another sales-driven fauxliday is pretty pointless to me at a personal level.

But after an extended stay at this summerland my family has stationed itself at for four generations, I'm ready to elaborate on the "sand" part of the blog, of which this 60-some odd year family tradition combined with a California upbringing are responsible for.  Stay tuned for an end-of-summer review of East End java joints from the lunatic who refused to stand like a shmuck in hour-long lines and settle for mediocre corporate cuppas all summer at the convenient FourBucks, even if it meant driving another 10 miles for a quality local fair-trade product.

The Perfect Pourover

Blue Bottle's James Freeman demonstrates at their Brooklyn roastcafé.  The San Francisco stalwart, which conquered the Williamsburg caffeine scene last year and placed pop-up perk points at Rockaway Beach, the New Amsterdam Market, Milk Studios and Highline Park, will open its latest location at Rockefeller Center this November.

(You know the man is an artist when he's being translated halfway around the world—though in all fairness, Blue Bottle does import probably more Japanese java junkie paraphernalia than anyone else in the biz).

Mud and Muppets

muppet.wikia.com

Today marks Jim Henson's would-be 75th birthday.  And here's something you might not know about the man whose hands first felt the felt-lined depths of Kermit the Frog's backside: he got his big break doing coffee commercials.

It's hard to believe his majesty of marionettes found his earliest success in two slapstick sadists pimping instant perk brands that haven't existed since Barry Manilow was mainstream.  But these 300 syndicated spots, which ran between 1957-61, propelled his puppeteer career and gave him easy green to start his studio, thus making them directly responsible for Fozzie Bear, Bert and Ernie and Gobo Fraggle.

The ads were first (and most notably) commissioned for Washington DC-based Wilkins Instant Coffee, but their memorable style later promoted other brands as well, even a few in that then-new fancy shmancy thing called technicolor.

Get a load of these ancestral Muppets, named "Wilkins" and "Wontkins."  Though Wontkins most closely resembles Grimace of Golden Arch fame (perhaps with a few Beaker-esque facial features and Rowlf's voice), tell me we're not seeing little Kermie as a tadpole in Wilkins—albeit with a significantly more aggressive disposition.  Their fame grew so that the coffee company, "for a limited time only," even slapped mail-in plush toy offers on their cans.  (A cursory eBay search turned up niente, but I still hold hope to someday score some to stage on my desk with a rubber mallet).

So the next time you see Big Bird, Miss Piggy, Yoda or that '80s flick with David Bowie and the gremlins, first thank him—then look down and thank your cuppa.

Now to fulfill my dream of getting a certain toque blanche-sporting Swede in here for an incomprehensible culinary guest video column...

Click here for a complete history of Wilkins Coffee ads at Muppet Wikia

Pumpkin Lattes Made Easy: A Reccessionista-Friendly Recipe

Takeaway—Wikimedia Commons

Most all my friends dig some sort of joe, if only those flavor-filled FourBucks lattes I equate to the Bacardi Breezers of coffee.  Despite my relentless appeal to the case a quality cuppa, like a good steak, needn't be drowned to death with sauces or syrups for compensatory taste, I prevail with few.  Recently, one such paisan gave me the ghastly experience of watching the most magnificent mug off the pour-over bar that took a barista five minutes to make murdered with non-dairy creamer and Sugar In The Raw packets right before my very eyes.  I was momentarily traumatized, and momentarily wondered why I'd ever associate with such a person.

Nevertheless, pumpkin lattes are my weakness.  And no, not from the green goblins.  Why carve four bucks from your wallet at FourBucks when you can make one yourself (or come close) with the simplest steps, espresso bar not even prerequisite?  But every year when I thirst for a velvety mug of fall, it's how I roll.  Here's how you can, too.

First, you'll need some sort of espresso maker or appropriate analog brewing apparatus.  So your kitchen lacks a piece of Krups.  No biggie when you figure San Francisco-based Philz Coffee, perhaps the most prominent perk purveyor with espresso bar absent at from all their stores, offers a "hand-crafted espresso" that's basically a triple pour-over in a Chemex.  You might not get that same caramel-y crema, but whether by pourover, Moka pot or other means, there's plenty of ways to make espresso without electricity.  (Even Keurig brewers have espresso brewing option, and Green Mountain makes the K-cups to do it).

Drilnoth, Wikimedia Commons

Next comes the pumpkin part.  The most common way to pull it off is a flavor syrup like Torani's, available in both sugary (Pumpkin Pie or Spice) and sugar free (Pumpkin Pie) versions.  But if you're lucky enough to find the right roast, you also bring it out of the beans.  Stew Leonard's in Connecticut (and Yonkers, NY) does a seasonal Pumpkin Spice Roast that, with a twinge or two of vanilla syrup, is too perfect for the job.

Get and grind your beans espresso-fine.  It's great if they're fresh, clearly—but if you're feeling frugal reuse of your leftovers, this is the perfect chance to turn those turds to pearls.  If you've scored the aforementioned Pumpkin Spice roast, you're golden (not to mention I've had it stay fresh six or more months at a time).

Then comes the milk.  Since being espresso bar-less leaves you without a steam wand, those without that luxury will probably want to score a battery-operated frothing stick like the Aerolatte, Bodum's Schiuma or their $1.99 Ikea counterparts.  You'll probably end up with more of a cappuccino, but as my mother would say, it's all the same in your stomach.  (Note: I have no personal experience with these doodads—but my co-editor, Kristina, says they work, so I'll defer to her judgment on this one.)

Once you've got all that down, it's as easy as 1, 2...you know what, I refuse to use that stupid infomercial cliche.  Just do this and you should be good:
-Brew the espresso
-Pour 1-2 shots in a cup with desired amount of syrup (trust your gut on this one, bearing in mind the espresso-to-milk ratio and and cup size variable).
-Top off with frothed milk

Then just rub your hands together, shout "meka leka hi, meka hiney ho" whilst waving them over the mug and kazaam, you've made your own pumpkin latte.  (Or at least something like it that hopefully isn't as bad as the Shaq flick I just referenced).  Sure it might not be as good, but given the results considering the $15,000 espresso bar you likely lack in your breakfast nook, I'd still wager it a win.

Old java junk can be a terrariable thing to waste.

The guys over at Sprudge (yes, I'm plugging another blog—it's a shared mission, not a competition) proved that point with this terrarium made from a converted Hario siphon pot.  This sustainably re-purposed fishbowl looking thing makes a solid statement how one cafe's trash sits until scored by someone else waiting for the win.  Speaking of winning, I've 28 minutes to the Comedy Central Roast of Charlie Sheen Roast, so I'll have to keep this one short before I miss the first Lisa Lampanelli groaner I could probably catch on the next 50 reruns anyway.

But this turned me into deep existential thought mode.  Be it from copious consumption of caffeine or a coincidental convergence of intellect over common grounds (pun intended) java junkies jive among the most inventive, resourceful creative circle of individuals known to man.  What can they, we, possibly think to reinvent next?  I've long felt that if one drink possesses the power to save the world, it would be coffee—and not just because the term "fair trade" sounds earthy.  That's not to say I've never seen Hennessy get someone spewing ideas on the subject, but the next time I catch an inebriated imbecile word vomit one out that's in any way comprehensible and bears any merit whatsoever I'll be sure to revise this entry.

ADDENDUM:
Of course after so surely rendering myself relevant with an oh-so-timely pop culture reference, Señor Adonis DNA wins the first roast dais absent of LL.  Fail.  (Not like anyone noticed with Mike Tyson and the Priceline Negotiator up there).

Brewed and Boozed

Coffee and alcohol.  The last two great legal addictions sans the smart phone that won't make you smell like the smokestack of a death factory or turn pearly chompers to corn kernels.  God love the genius—almost certainly of Anglo-Saxon ancestry—who decided to mix them together.

But Irish coffee is merely a door frame to a whole hedonistic hybrid world.  The coffee cocktail category is incredibly versatile, coming hot and cold with flavors for every season.  In fact, there's more caffeinated creations to be crafted on the evening bar than its crack 'o dawn counterpart.  Liqueurs like Kahlua or Van Gogh triple espresso vodka are proverbial syrup pumps of the night, accelerating your java jolt and kickstarting your buzz simultaneously.  After all, you've paid your cover, you might as well stay up and get your money's worth.

There's a lot more than pouring Bailey's or Cuervo (for "Mexican coffee") in your cuppa and calling it good (and by personal preference: while mixtos work with restaurant dishwater, if I'm starting with grade A Stumptown or Intelligentsia pour-over, it's breaking the border with Patrón Silver).  There's also a lot more than a simple sambuca addition to your espresso shot or pre-mixed perkohols.  So last night, chilled by the crisp New York autumn air and feeling in a shot sort of mood, I opted to craft a warm caffeinated cocktail of my own.  I looked down at the espresso bar, scanned a row of bottles until landing on Disaronno, and got to work experimenting on a round of "squared" shots.

Rocky Road Hot Shot
Shot of espresso (long)
Disaronno® Originale amaretto (approx. 1 shot)
Mocha syrup (approx. 1/2 tbsp.)
Dollop of foam and/or whipped cream

Glaze decent-sized demitasse cup with mocha syrup.  Pull espresso shot long and pour Disaronno as desired.  Top with foam or whip—and for overachievers: garnish with chocolate shavings or marzipan drizzle. With steamed milk, this same little recipe can be scaled up for a macchiato or cortado.  (Note: The espresso to Disaronno ratio is pure preference and dependent on the size of your cup.  I'm by no means a mixologist, but hey, it tasted good to me).

Perk up :)

"This coffee falls into your stomach, and straightway there is a general commotion.  Ideas begin to move like the battalions of the Grand Army of the battlefield, and the battle takes place.  Things remembered arrive at full gallop, ensuing to the wind.  The light cavalry of comparisons deliver a magnificent deploying charge, the artillery of logic hurry up with their train and ammunition, the shafts of with start up like sharpshooters.  Similes arise, the paper is covered with ink; for the struggle commences and is concluded with torrents of black water, just as a battle with powder."

-Balzac, "The Pleasures and Pains of Coffee" 

(He's also said to have sipped some 40 cups a day.  Then again, can you blame him?  I mean, he is from the source of French Roast.  Swig-gluuuuurp).

The Coffee-Powered Car

Well now I've seen everything.

Meet the "Carpaccino."  It certainly isn't the first caffeine-driven car I've encountered; after all, I drive one every morning.  But it is the first I'm aware of powered via direct java injection to the engine rather than the driver.  It's hard enough to fathom such a utopian vehicle exists, let alone that the land speed record it just broke has since 1988.  Where have these things been hiding the past 23 years?  Where is the French Roast formula car?  Clearly there should be more overlap between these two institutions beyond Starbucks NASCAR sponsorship and the scene where Sacha Baron-Cohen's character spills his macchiato in Talladega Nights, even though—and call me a snob—I've always found it more of a Miller Light kind of venue.

Leave it to Brits to conquer this uncharted territory.  The caffeinated clunker, which bears strange semblance to a certain 1985 modified DeLorean, uses a process called "gasification" to derive combustible gas from burnt waste coffee pellets, sending a smell out the tailpipe more "like a house fire" than roasting arabica.  Apparently this WWII-era technology only flies with carbureted engines, so you need a piece of crap car for the conversion.

The end goal: be a traveling statement to teach kids coffee is "more than just a drink in a cup."  Park it, Prius.

http://www.coffeecar.org

Hooked On Siphonics

Siphon brewers: let's talk about 'em.

You needn't even know what they are.  In fact, you could straight up loathe coffee and probably still be unable to take your eyes off them.  They're just that flipping cool.  Watch this video of one in action at Blue Bottle in San Francisco and you'll see what I mean:

Like sushi, Nintendo and countless other helplessly and unarguably cool things, they came from Japan and commanded a cult following sooner than they even hit our shores.  Appropriately, in similar fashion to my friend and I's moms regularly trekking to the Asian import mart in Cupertino to score us Power Rangers back in the day, you'll only find them for sale in specialty spots few and far between —though it may be merely a matter of time before the first one hits Williams-Sonoma.

Mind you, the multi-burner bar above cost in excess of $20,000 USD, but those so inclined can score a single-globe Hario unit for roughly $150.  Blue Bottle sells them via their webstore (branded Bonmac for legal reasons, though they swear they're the real deal), and I recently spotted some for sale at popular Coffee Labs Roasters in Tarrytown, NY, a half hour north of New York City.  A handful of Amazon.com partner stores are also now selling siphons, from the $33 Yama stovetop model and its butane burner-equipped counterpart to the sexily sleek $299 Size D Cona, a gadget of such utilitarian beauty it gives my inner designer a funny feeling in its proverbial pants.  (I hate to spew sacrilege, but tell me those lines don't challenge the Chemex at least a little bit).  Hario makes tea siphons, too.

For more on how these glass vessels of awesome suck only in the literal sense, I recommend this piece by resident New York Times java junkie and my personal journalistic idol, Oliver Strand (an article which actually predates the adoption of his nationally-known nom de plume).

The next time I'm craving spicy tuna rolls and instead sit down to blog: Kyoto slow drip brewers.

A Beautiful Grind

A multitude of factors pour into play producing a quality cuppa, but in many respects it's all in your grind.  After all, the grind controls everything—strength, flavor, texture, brew time—so unless you embrace diner-grade dishwater with open mouth, this is one step you don't want to bollix.

Baratza G 285 Maestro

Here at Café Krups-in-my-Kitchen, I use a Baratza Maestro conical burr grinder by SolisCrema, first recommended to me by my old college haunt, Coffee Labs Roasters.  Many regard the Baratza brand as the best around, and the lower-end models are both beautifully designed and reasonably priced for home baristas.  Even these feature a professional grade burr (rotating cutting tip) spinning at 450 RPMs and nearly 20 refined settings, from the finest Turkish to the coarseness of the cast of Jersey Shore.  A substantial improvement from the Cuisinart pulse grinder mine replaced, which consisted of "on" and "off."

Some may question how one can justify spending $100+ on something just to grind coffee, let alone actually make it.  I, for one, was given a college graduation check with explicit instructions not to save it but "spend it on s@#% you don't need but actually want."  But there's many ostensible advantages.  By not owning one and grinding your stash elsewhere to last days—if not weeks—at a time, you're compromising serious flavor as your grinds inevitably oxidize in ambient air, even in seemingly sealed containers.  Aside from the freshness factor, a good grinder also affords you the flexibility and to brew any beans into whatever you want.  I've pulled espresso shots with single origin medium roast and pour-over brewed espresso roast.  Being creative is half the fun.

Baratza Virtuoso

It's hard to remember the dark days before my Baratza.  My parents' house was a Maxwell House house, grossly ill equipped to fulfill the needs of my perk palate.  My father, though void of his own standards, did however recognize the need for an alternative to avoid offending company; this was accomplished via swiping a silver commercial-grade whale of a percolator pot from the office and the aforementioned Williams Sonoma-purchased apparatus, which being void of settings served me little purpose and reliant on pre-ground vacu-sealed Illy or Lavazza espresso.

The memories are too disturbing to continue.  Any semi-serious java junkie should be spared the misery I endured for so many years as a broke college student dependent on canned coffee goods, so if you haven't already, seriously, hook yourself up.  Procure the power of these grind tricks.   Dishwater isn't the coffee you're looking for—move along.

Tea for Me

The tasting room at Harney & Sons

I consider tea coffee's commonlaw spouse, consummated by menu marriage anywhere warm beverages and pastries are served.  Markedly different, yet bonded by a common set of values: they're both best warm and pair equally well with Pepperidge Farm products or streusel muffins.

In coincidental homage to today's Tea Party debate, I seized this sunny 75-degree day to trek my northern escape route to tranquility for a day jaunt to Millerton, New York, home to Harney & Sons Tea Company.  For those unfamiliar, the work of master tea blender Michael Harney is served in some of the world's finest dining and hospitality venues, and is the exclusive tea offering by both Four Seasons Hotels and all Barnes & Noble in-store cafes.

Millerton, a town of roughly 1,000 residents (on a weekend) two hours north of Manhattan, blends bohemian bliss, rural ruggedness and big city chic—something a Bay Area boy can appreciate anyday, but hardly the place you'd expect to find the headquarters of possibly the world's most prominent tea blenders.  But the factory and tasting room are here, as is the company store and small sit-down café with table service overlooking the busy bike trail built on the old New York & Harlem Railroad. The entire operation is as unassuming and understately elegant as the town of two blocks itself.  While the factory, located along Route 22 on the outskirts of town, isn't open to the public, the latter three facilities are conjoined in the heart of the village.

My personal cup of tea (come on, you saw that one coming) is the tasting room, a veritable cornucopia of loose leaf blends from floor to ceiling where friendly staffers steep free samplings to assist in almost always challenging selections.  Each sachet is a flavorgasm to give your tea tongue pleasures it has never known.  Today, I scored some of my usual favorite, Tropical Green (a pineapple-infused take on the traditional Asian base), and season appropriately, African Autumn (a cranberry-orange rooibos blend).  And for my friends and relatives in the kosher nostra, you won't have to give either up for passover either.

Despite their impressive presence in Millerton, the company officially calls neighboring Salisbury, Connecticut home and recently opened its flagship store in SoHo.

Millerton is also home to Irving Farm Coffee Company, the regionally revered farm-based roasting outfit spawned from 71 Irving Place in Manhattan.  That's it's own entry for another day, but after all this talk about teas, I'll tease you with this food porn of the espresso chocolate chip crumb cake I scored this same day.  Om nom nom.

Essential knowledge at Oblong Books

This postage stamp-sized village, ranked among the 10 Coolest Small Towns in America by Frommer's Budget Travel, has other draws too.  My inner bookworm has always been down with Oblong Books & Music, a bi-locational bastion of the classic neighborhood bookseller (the other being in Rhinebeck) many hope the demise of Borders will bring back.  Aside from the awesome selection of local and special interest titles, the coolest part is the shape of the store itself: not its namesake one, but an irregular two-story "L" snaking two blocks.  The whole town is also close enough to hock a loogie into Connecticut—and you drive a few more miles north to the Massachusetts border and strike a Twister-esque pose, you can be in all three states simultaneously.  Cool beans.

There's also the Oakhurst Diner, a postcard perfect 1930s greasy spoon recently rebirthed with a farm-to-table twist (and known to be frequented by Law & Order's Chris Noth).  Far from the dingy dinette it used to be, the new menu balances classic fare with organic options and emphasizes its almost entirely locally-sourced ingredients.  And would you believe it: the new ownership, which oversaw the transformation, includes a Harney.

Food for thought: coffee beans only grow south of the equator, yet tea is most closely associated with the jolly old island nation with the fewest sunny days and palest people on the planet. (I can say that remorselessly, because I'm one of them).  Cheerio!

Handsome Coffee's espresso lives up to its name.

Behold my new stash, courtesy of espressoNEAT in Darien, Connecticut.  But this isn't just any almost-$20 bean bag: this double dime of demitasse is the beautiful brainchild of none other than Intelligentsia veterans Tyler Wells, Chris Owens and 2010 World Barista Champion Michael Phillips.

And it's hot, even on ice.

Last Spring, the talented trio ditched the revered Chicago roast house, went west and poured their hearts into Handsome Coffee Roasters in Los Angeles, and their reputation is spreading faster than their 1964 Ford Falcon van—which looks something like a decaffeinated Mystery Machine—could possibly travel.  All the more impressive considering their alma mater's lead role in the local caffeine scene, with three coffee bars and a full-fledged commercial roastery credentialing the Smog City as serious Intelly turf.

After Phillips worked a guest shift at the promontory Gold Coast perk point last month, it was only natural NEAT, in its regularly rotation of only the awesome artisinal roasteries (Handsome and Portland, OR's Coava, as of latest), would give Handsome a shot.  So when I went to restock on Black Cat and saw Handsome espresso roast on the shelves instead, I figured I'd grab a bag and pull a few. 

Just grinding the stuff, the tongue-tantalizing aromatic release from my Baratza was foreboding.  Tamping was almost torturous.  One of those smells you wish you could eat whole, but like a Yankee Candle or your girlfriend's cinnamon roll-scented lotion from Bath & Body Works, know the actual source would taste quite antithetically.  (Not that I'm entirely convinced someone hasn't tried eating scented wax before—namely this guy).

The best word to describe this roast is breadth.  A breadth of flavor and fullness on the tongue.  A breadth of all the elements in a good espresso blend.  A breadth of awesome.  A deep, caramel-y crema packing a pleasantly medium punch but bold sweetness.  It had true depth, and I dug it.  Imagine a perfect slice of cheesecake that isn't too rich, isn't too bland, but is somehow just in the zone.  Like that, only not cheesecake.

A Handsome cuppa indeed.

"I think the coffee wars defined who we were: egotistic style whores."

I'm not sure what's more epic here, the hilarity of the video itself or the poster comments beneath it.  (The references are highly San Fran-centric, but filtering out all the neighborhood stereotypes is something any urban caffiend can relate to).  A quality YouTube ROFLCOPTER to lift up my morning.

The sad part: filtering out the obvious dramatizations, it's frighteningly accurate.

Burning Beans

It's time for the festival of all festivals.  Insanity to make the conventionally insane look sane.  A marvelous melange of art, sex, steampunk and a balance of other pleasures despite how debauched or hedonistic they may be—all, of course, in good fun.

I speak, of course, about Burning Man.

As 50,000 hit the "playa" this week, they'll be able to buy just two things in their temporary community: ice and coffee.  And wouldn't you know it: for the few days it exists, it's home to the world's largest java joint.  According to Burning Man's website, the Center Camp café touts 120 feet of linear counter space and and takes a team of some 500 volunteers to perk "burners" 24/7 throughout the event's duration.  Really, where on earth else will you find clowns pulling shots off a La Marzocco covered in stickers with such phrases as "freedom jail: sounds like pot rock?"

Rules expressly prohibit the engagement of any other acts of commerce within Black Rock City limits (clearly they have their priorities straight), so for anything else, you better bring it yourself, barter the Black Rock market or you're s%#* out of luck.

Burn, baby, burn.