I love coffee. I’ll occasionally sip a steaming Earl Grey tea, but I think coffee is the greatest. I got hooked in my teens when I discovered espresso–filtered coffee at my uncle’s house. What rich stuff. Shots of caffeine kept me up through the night when I crammed for final exams. (That and terror).
Later, a cup of the cafeteria’s brew comforted me as I poured over a memory dump at my first job, a life insurance company in Halifax. Back in the days of punched-card computers, when a program error caused the computer to crash, it would spill its guts in a thick pile of paper covered with hexadecimal numbers. The programmer would pour over it like an augur examining chicken entrails. It was like solving a Mensa puzzle, only I got paid for it. Coffee always brings back fond memories.
The best and worst coffee I ever has was in South America. The best was in 1968, in the Bogota lounge of Avianca, the Colombian national airline. I took a sip of the rich, creamy liquid, and knew at once this was what coffee was supposed to taste like. It was not until 1996 that I experienced the same taste, in Holland.
The worst coffee was in Lima. Some Peruvians prepare an extract by pouring hot water over ground coffee, through a filter. The coffee is very concentrated. It can be stored, and later mixed with hot water to re-constitute the coffee. It tastes like ink. How do I know? Because I drank ink in the third grade. (It seemed like a good idea at the time).
You’ve probably heard the story that coffee was introduced to the court of Louis XIV by an Arabian diplomat. The French aristocrats forced down the bitter brew so as to not offend the dignitary. It was a courtesan who discovered that adding cream and sugar made it palatable.
I’ve had some awful stuff in my life. In the days of mainframe computers, programmers were often relegated to the graveyard shift. Coffee becomes a vile, rancid black oil after simmering for many hours on a hot burner. The toxic acid turns “dairy” powder a ghastly grey. It did keep us awake, though.
For the best coffee, keep the whole beans in the freezer, and only grind a week’s worth at a time, or else the aromatic oils will evaporate. Stay away from the “gourmet”, pre-ground variety. It’s just lowly arabicas sawdust laced with perfume to mask the poor quality.
I can’t believe I used to drink instant coffee in the 70’s. Now I’d rather go without. I like the Just Us brand of fair-trade coffee. The money goes directly to the small Latin American farmer, giving him a larger share than if he were the slave of a multi-national company. Mostly I like it because it’s roasted right here in the Annapolis Valley.
I am cursed with working right next door to a Tim Horton’s. It’s so easy to just pop over for a “double–double”. I was in New England last August. Dunkin’ Doughnuts ain’t got nothing on Tim’s.
I came to a startling realization recently. Averaging two cups a day, I figure I’m spending $2 per workday, or $500/yr on coffee. A cup of coffee requires about 6 grams to brew. That’s 76 cups per pound. Yikes! $76/lb. for Tim Horton coffee!
I phoned Peter at the Java Blend on North St. Asked him what was the best coffee he had. Two of the best coffees in the world are Hawaiian Kona, and Jamaica Blue Mountain. He wasn’t getting any Blue Mountain until next month, but he did have some fresh Kona in stock. $34/lb. That’s half the price of Tim’s. I don’t think Tim’s is serving Kona.
So I ordered a pound of Kona. This stuff is smoooth. It’s so good I can drink it black, I don’t have to lace it with cream & sugar to cover the bitterness of Tim’s, so it’s not fattening. The only problem is you quickly get used to this standard, and take it for granted. Instead of having average coffee (Tim’s) and great coffee (Kona) in your life, you now have lousy and average, respectively.
There you go: treat yourself to the best coffee in the World from Java Blend, cheaper than Tim Horton’s. Tell Peter that Pierre sent you.