Coffee: Branching Out to Store-bought Solutions

What?!? Store-bought coffee? (insert audience screams here) What is this world coming to when a hardcore coffee DIYer goes store bought??? No no, my friends. The coffee brewing system was store-bought. Not the coffee. There there. Breathe easy. I'll probably make my own version anyway. Feel better?

The story: I was walking down Church Street in Burlington, frittering away an afternoon, when I decided to stop in my local mom 'n pop kitchen supply shop. It's lovely and shiny in there with gadgets as far as the eye can see. Well, as I browsed through my favorite aisle, something especially shiny and gadgety caught my eye. Ladies and gentleman, I introduce to you the Aeropress...

Now take a second to look at this packaging. This box claims that the miracle contents inside are indeed a "coffee making breakthrough" that make the "richest - smoothest - purest" coffee. In fact, Lewis Singer of Cooks Junction claims "It makes the best cup of coffee I've tasted in my entire life". Would I dare doubt such a reputable source as Mr. Singer? Not likely. So $30 poorer but an aeropress richer, I ventured off to try my beloved new possession.

Upon opening the box I found:

I was confused, a little scared - but sure, I'll admit it, I was curious. So I did what any good DIYer does: I threw away the directions and took it apart. Now, dear reader, my apologies for not having a mess of fantastic photos of the deconstructive process. The truth is that I was distracted by the task at hand and the prospect of a new toy and forgot to photograph it all. However, I found that basically it's a french press that plunges through a paper filter instead of a strainer directly into a coffee cup:


First step - coffee. So I went to my trusty hand crank flour grinder posing as a coffee grinder and ground some beans:




Step two - set up. I filled the tiny carafe with coffee and added water:


Step three - wait a minute and then plunge.


Overall it made a decent cup of coffee. I found I had to repeat the process to get enough coffee to fill my super big mug (then, upon reading the directions to make sure I hadn't missed anything I found out that it's supposed to be a concentrate to which you add hot water, not another batch of coffee... oops). Considering I like my coffee strong, I enjoyed it.

Oooh, and the best part was the very last bit when I 1) didn't have to clean out a french press and 2) got to plunge the solid disc of coffee grounds into the trash with a big WHOOSH. That alone was worth the $30.

I give it one and a half thumbs up. I have other methods I prefer to this one, but the aeropress wins for convenience. I think Mr. Singer was either very sheltered in his previous coffee consumption, or very well compensated for his remarks, but either way, I'm glad I bought it.

Tales from the Windy City, Part One

I've just returned from a lovely visit to Chicago. Stay tuned for many, many weird and wonderful pictures of my many, many weird and wonderful adventures. For now I leave you with random images I like from an alarmingly large new folder of jpegs on my external hard drive...

I feel welcome already:


This gets my vote for creepiest science museum exhibit:


Surprisingly interesting transformations happen to vines in autumn:


Thanks to the fact that I have the sense of humor of a ten year old boy, this makes me giggle:


Proof that I have no shame or sense of self-preservation:


There are better photos to come. I promise.

Let the holidays begin!

This came with my tofurky (yes, I'm a vegetarian):

It says it all. Have a great holiday everyone!

A Physical Representation of Winter

It snowed today! See the pretty world I woke up to?


Which reminds me, it's time to bring Timmy in for the winter. Sorry buddy...


Snow means pretty views and a complete inability to drive up my steep driveway. It also means an hour and a half drive to work (it usually takes 30 - 40 minutes). But it's pretty! Did I mention it's pretty? Ask me again in March. I may use a different set of vocab words that are not Disney friendly.

Snow also means cold. Cold stinks, since this is how I stay warm at home:


But for now, it's the first real snow of the year, and the world is beautiful, and I wanted to share it with everyone who is currently snow free.

Türkischer Kaffee gefällt mir

I arrived home today after a raucous night splitting two bottles of wine in my hotel room with my mom, only to have us end up at the Marriott (not the hotel I stayed at) bar because the Sheraton (also not the hotel I stayed at) was hosting a hoity toity fundraiser and we felt a bit out of place there. At the Marriott bar we each had two more drinks and discussed the quality of homemade bbq potato chips with a group of young men. This, of course, all happened before we saw Arlo Guthrie play with the Springfield Symphony Orchestra. It was a blast. What, you've never drank your weight in alcohol and then gone to an aging folk singer's concert with your mom? Let me tell you friend, you're missing out. Especially since my mom's one of the funniest people I know.

So that is the preface to the real story. Slightly hung over and in a bit of a foul mood today, I decided it would be the perfect time to try my hand at Turkish coffee. I submit for your enjoyment:

Turkish coffee: brewing black death in six easy steps

1) Find a pot that will stand in for an ibrik in a pinch. Being in a pinch myself, I used my milk steaming pot:


2) Add water and sugar:


3) Add very, very finely ground coffee - one heaping teaspoon for every 2 ozs of water:


4) And now, heat slowly until it starts to bubble and foam:




5) Right before it bubbles over, remove it from the heat source and stir.

6) Repeat the heat, foam and stir cycle three more times. Add a pinch of cardamom and serve:

Who ever said that coffee should strong as hell, black as death and sweet as love must have been drinking Turkish coffee at the time. It is heaven in a cup. And not a bad way to improve a hangover and a bad mood. I give it two enthusiastic thumbs up.

High Caliber Graffiti

As seen on the bathroom wall of the Langdon Street Cafe' in Montpelier:

Be Sure to
Flush Twice
It's a long way to Fresno

I have absolutely no idea what it means, but I like it. I wish I'd had my camera in there, but that would bring up a whole bunch of questions I just wouldn't be prepared to answer...

A Nagging Idea

I found out yesterday that my uncle died, which was awful and a matter I've decided doesn't need much detailing on this blog. But due to that event, I was up most of the night thinking about life, the universe and everything and I spent a good deal of time leafing through my book collection. One of the books I settled on was Sylvia Plath's "The Bell Jar" and I think her opening line may be one of my all time favorites:

"It was a queer, sultry summer, the summer they electrocuted the Rosenbergs, and I didn't know what I was doing in New York."

I invite you to post some of your most loved opening lines. They can be sad, humorous, outlandish, brief, verbose - anything you like. I'm just curious to see what's out there.

And Now for Something Completely Different

Pity me, for I am in the eighth level of grant Hell right now. I have one day to finish a grant for a program that is barely a fully fleshed out idea with no budget, no staff, and no evidence of need. So, to soothe my angry, tired brain, I'm taking a short break(down).

I've decided to start photographing all the bits of my commute to work that I find interesting. This is my new favorite lawn ornament:

Every time I pass it I'm reminded of just how rural my tiny state is. This isn't out in the middle of nowhere, this is on a major road about 10 minutes outside of Burlington. And this is next to it:


There's something a bit unsettling about dairy cows grazing in a field full of rusty farm implements and a stream of run-off waste water. Got Vermont Cheese?

Won't Someone Please Think of the Elephants?

I'm not one to follow the train wreck that is Paris Hilton's existence, but I just couldn't pass by this headline from the AP:

Hilton Tries to Help Drunken Elephants

Is it April 1st already?

Tibetans: a peaceful people with very angry food

I'm in pain. Serious pain. I, innocently enough, purchased Tibetan Cuisine's steamed vegetable momo from the local food co-op. Sounds harmless, yes? I mean they're Tibetan for crying out loud! Buddhists, the Dalai Lama, passive resistance, yak milk and the rest. But let me tell you friend, there's nothing passive about this food. Potatoes and assorted veggies wrapped in dough and steamed sounded innocuous - even downright tasty. And they were, save for the angry sauce of imminent fiery death that rained down up them. Let's just say that any time one puts enough chili into soy sauce to make it look like marinara, be afraid. Be very afraid. My lips are experiencing something akin to being shoved in hot coals.


If you, dear readers, hear that I have spontaneously combusted, tell my story.

The Golden Retriever of the Camelid World

Last Sunday was not just spent on caffeinated pursuits, it was also spent with one of my other loves: alpacas. Praise be to the wonderful folks who came up with the idea to hold the annual Green Mountain Alpaca Spectacular. Alpacas are, for lack of a better word, awesome. They're essentially miniature llamas - half the size, all the cuteness. I mean, come on, look at this face:

And, most importantly, they were first described to me by a breeder as the "golden retriever of the camelid world". Stop. Just stop. You had me at hello. Want to learn more about this odd and delightful species? Of course you do. Try this. And don't forget to visit your local alpaca spectacular.

From the "I'll take a pat on the back wherever I can get it" Department

During the day I'm a grantwriter for a youth development organization (at night I'm batman!). While I don't often get out and fraternize with the kiddies, everyone once and a while they do something that melts the crusty exterior of my heart. Today was one of those day. One of my favorite kids walked into my office and handed me this:

This is the same kid who asked me to be her new mom. Considering her biological mom is a heroin addict, I wish I could have said yes. Ouch. It's all part of a day's work.

Another Sunday Coffee Fix

Sundays are project days. Most of my projects involve art and coffee. Thus Sundays are art and coffee days. However, my artistic endeavors today were underwhelming, so for your entertainment I present "Coffee Theater" part deux:

From Green to Mean, a Coffee Bean Roasting Adventure

Our story begins in the wilds of northern Vermont. It is a brisk fall day and the morning sun beams down on a girl in her pajamas lounging blithely on a step stool in her backyard - heat gun in one hand and a bowl full of green coffee beans in the other...

Slowly she stirs as the beans begin to brown and expand, the water in them boiling, steaming, growing...

Oh the agony! The smoke thickens as she stirs faster and the glow of the red heat shines off the steel of the bowl. Finally, their exterior pushed to the limit by the turmoil within, the beans break open. First crack has been achieved and their end approaches...



And then, as suddenly as it began, it's over. The beans crack one last time and take their rest. In a day's time they will make the ultimate sacrifice as they dive into the boiling abyss and their essence is wrenched from them. Ahhh. The perfect cup of coffee is born.


I would show you exactly what all this caffeine does to my heart on my muscle man model but he's still in his box. Luckily, Scott wasn't as lazy as I am. Take a gander at his blog. Picture blood coursing through the veins with no regular pulse.

I Am Jack's Feeling of Utter Exhaustion

It's been a long week.