Saturday, March 25, 2006

The Art of the Day is: the art of brewing coffee

I did not learn about brewing coffee in my family. My mom was a dedicated instant coffee drinker, who usually left half a cup on the table when she left for work.
I first learned about brewing coffee in Denmark. First on a Melita filter system, and then on a Chemex. Brewing coffee on a Chemex is an "at the coffee table" ritual. It may even be the Scandinavian equivalent of a tea ceremony, or it may be only a house ritual of the architect I was visiting.




My next formative coffee experience was in Central City, Colorado, where water boils before it's hot, because of the altitude. Fortunately my housemate ?Debbie? from Davenport, Iowa, had been there the year before and knew to bring an espresso machine (essentially a coffee pressure cooker), so with fabulous beans from a small roaster in Denver, what might have been a disaster became a wonderful summer for coffee on the back porch overlooking the front ridge of the Rocky Mountains.

I now either brew espresso (lattes, actually) at home with coffee from King David's Coffee Roasters, or drive through a Dunkin Donuts, sort of as an homage to becoming a New Englander (I was already a Yankee, but that's not the same), not because it's great coffee, it sometimes is and sometimes isn't, but because I've gotten used to it, and I really like their ice coffee.

I have had periods in my life when I've been decaffeinated. I found the best way to do that is to buy really good decaffeinated coffee and mix it half and half with good caffeinated coffee for the first couple of days. It's the smell and the taste, not the kick, that I'm interested in.
I am not a fan of flavored coffees. I once broke out in hives from a nut blend, and I guess that killed the fun. However, if you put a shot of Kalua, Sabra, or Amaretto in my desert coffee, I might just hug you.

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