Note: All opinions expressed on this blog are the thoughts of the writers and do not necessarily reflect BFC&T policy or official opinion, although you can be sure that we go back and forth about them constantly.
Jake has been in an interesting conversation over at Barista Exchange which can be found here, concerning coffeeshops and "working class" culture. Some parts of the discussion, from the perspective of a coffeeshop owner in a largely working class area, are disturbing--especially Jake's comment about McD's having a better shot at establishing an "Italian" coffee presence precisely because they aren't a coffeeshop and don't pretend to be (see the "Fratalian" Dunkin Donuts ads). That discussion informs this post/rant, but I don't want to post it there--I'm already involved in more forums than I should be.
If some of the problems associated with all of this revolve around language, then I think we should rethink our terms. I agree with Luke at 21st Street Coffee & Tea that our language should have concrete referents--in other words, a cappucino should refer to an Italian capp, just as a croissant always refers to a croissant, never to a scone. Within that linguistic space, though, there is considerable room for interpretation: good capps and undrinkable capps, croissants light and flaky, pan chocolate, etc. This, of course, is not easy and we still offer (and will for the foreseeable future) a 12oz capp. However, that doesn't mean we don't think about it and haven't encouraged some customers to try a 6oz for here capp. This argument, though, has been ably rehearsed elsewhere and isn't my main concern tonight. My main concern is what we call ourselves: barista.
For the record, I like the term. It is elegant and sets our industry apart from others. However, it is a lot like opera: for the Italians opera is in the vernacular, for us it is high-brow and unintelligble without an interpreter (and even that is no guarantee). When opera is done in English, historically at least, it hasn't been regarded as nearly as high an art form--the irony is terrible, but such is life. For this reason, I don't think barista is a good term for all coffeeshop employees to use, especially in areas where that sort of linguistic boundary marker is off-putting. Not to mention that if McD personnel are going to be calling themselves barista, then the word is so cheapened as to have lost meaning altogether, so why use it?
Instead, may I propose that we gravitate towards the term 'craftsman' (or craftsperson, if you like). In the specialty coffee industry, we often emphasize that the better shops do treat the position of barista as a craft: respect for tools, for materials, a constant betterment of product, presentation, and service. However, we rarely, if ever, look at the other crafts to see how they handle themselves and what they do. There are master carpenters, plumbers, electricians, bakers, chefs, and the list could go on. Rarely, at least with the construction trades, do we see the level of bravado and snobbery that we see with many so-called barista. The folks that I have worked with in these trades (for that is my work background--food and construction) are humble about what they do, letting the product speak for itself as a showcase of work, talent, and the pursuit of beauty (and a paycheck). Certainly, there are characters, there are cads, and there are pricks, but the level of self-overestimation is lower on the radar.
If a coffeeshop is to find itself reaching a working class clientele (and I find no reason to assume that the working class wouldn't appreciate good coffee, good surroundings, and good food expertly prepared), then it must embrace something along these 'craftsman' lines. This doesn't mean, by the way, a cheapening of quality: a shoddy building is despised, good tools are looked upon with pride by the user and envy by others--so there is plenty of room for excellent coffee prepared on excellent equipment. The problem is that, as one of the posters on the BX states, "quality is overrated". The coffee industry operates with most coffee, regardless of origin or preparation, tasting basically the same--the differences are "nuances" or "shades", hardly a convincing argument to ask people to shell over $4 more for a similar product to what they are used to. I don't think this problem is intractable, though. I've talked to many people here who can't drink coffee anywhere else anymore, because we've "ruined" them. I know I certainly cannot drink the local gas station coffee anymore, it just tastes disgusting (and they have the same equipment as us).
Which brings me to the idea of "just" coffee. We hear it all the time, "I just want a coffee". It is almost like good coffee carries the stigma of hubris, of transcending one's boundaries in a sinful way, so that anything associated with the "latte lappers" (as one local radio personality puts it) is trying to be better than your roots, as if it is a cultural slap in the face to tradition and propriety. We rob ourselves if we think anything is "just" anything. Humankind wasn't meant to live with substandard things, whether food or tools or dwellings. That doesn't mean we should all be elitist or aim for hubris, but we shouldn't lock ourselves into thinking that because something is quality, is good, is tasty without cream and sugar but still tasty with, that is necessary "above us". It isn't. Good coffee comes from humble origins and only through hard work, attention to detail, and a lot of sweat and tears can it reach a level fit for human consumption. Whether you are working class or a Brahmin, you should fight to have coffee treated so well.
I find a lot of hope in the working class culture (from which I spring) that I don't see in the "upper crust". But we've let ourselves be deluded into thinking that our way of life shouldn't be beautiful--because we've let others set the terms of debate. It is time for "unsnobby" coffee, but not from an industrial swill factory, whether the largest national chain of coffeeshops or fast food joints. There is too much to lose if coffee isn't looked at as a trade to be enjoyed and appreciated.
Showing posts with label Coffee. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Coffee. Show all posts
Friday, August 1, 2008
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
G-G-G-Ghetto C-C-C-Clover
We are in the beta testing stages of "pimping" our French Press to make-shift a Clover. Tastes pretty good so far, but we've got a lot of problems to overcome. Thankfully, now that Jake is posting on this blog, we'll have pictures!
Just to whet your appetite, though, the initial problem of the insipid under filter water has been solved by using the dowel from a larger press pot (which we happened to have handy).
More to come...
Just to whet your appetite, though, the initial problem of the insipid under filter water has been solved by using the dowel from a larger press pot (which we happened to have handy).
More to come...
Saturday, March 15, 2008
Finca Vista Hermosa
Today, with much anticipation, our sample order from Finca Vista Hermosa, a Guatemalan coffee farm, arrived.
I've seen a lot of green coffee, relatively speaking. While it is exciting, after awhile green coffee looks, pretty much, like green coffee. But this was different (and it wasn't just because it was in a burlap bag, either). This coffee has a face. In his excellent article on CoffeeGeek.com, Mark Prince tells the tragic story of farm manager Carlos Martin and his son Edwin. But that isn't all.
In our industrial society, for all its benefits, we often miss that the things we enjoy, the things we live off of, are made by someone--especially "raw" agricultural products. This easily leads to a dismissibility, a disposibility. When the human face behind the product becomes clear, though, the reaction must change. All of the sudden, the product isn't something that we deserve, but a gift that we must make sure we are worthy of. Am I worthy of FVH coffees? No, but they make me want to be more worthy and do justice to the people and land behind these fantastic beans.
I've seen a lot of green coffee, relatively speaking. While it is exciting, after awhile green coffee looks, pretty much, like green coffee. But this was different (and it wasn't just because it was in a burlap bag, either). This coffee has a face. In his excellent article on CoffeeGeek.com, Mark Prince tells the tragic story of farm manager Carlos Martin and his son Edwin. But that isn't all.
In our industrial society, for all its benefits, we often miss that the things we enjoy, the things we live off of, are made by someone--especially "raw" agricultural products. This easily leads to a dismissibility, a disposibility. When the human face behind the product becomes clear, though, the reaction must change. All of the sudden, the product isn't something that we deserve, but a gift that we must make sure we are worthy of. Am I worthy of FVH coffees? No, but they make me want to be more worthy and do justice to the people and land behind these fantastic beans.
Friday, March 14, 2008
Does Anyone Care About Quality?
These thoughts require a little background reading of one of the most important threads on Coffeed.com: The Third Wave and Milk-Based Drinks. The ostensible topic of the thread isn't what I'm thinking about, but where the discussion turns to whether or not cafes and coffee shops could stand up to competent critics, much like restaurants must.
Really this discussion cuts to the quick of my marketing whining (as seen in the last post)--we have no baseline definition of quality, whether in drinks or in ambiance. One question that I'm confronted with often from my staff is "what should it taste like?" and we spend hours each day thinking about it. The impression of what coffee and espresso should taste like from a consumer standpoint makes my head hurt. Not to mention the often obtuse tasting notes from "quality-oriented" roasters (note: I have had coffee that tasted like pink grapefruit and one that tasted like fresh-roasted peanuts, but those flavors were so overwhelming that the descriptions were more than apt). Same applies to roasting level--I've only met two people who *actually* like dark-roasted coffee, most folks I've met think dark roast is better because they've been told by some self-proclaimed coffee "authority" that dark is best for everything and everyone. We have no baseline.
Part of the problem, I think, is that we have assumed that coffee tastes a certain way and espresso tastes a certain way. Considering the sad state of coffee in this country (analogous to the state of tea and food in general), it is no surprise. I get chided for not carrying Lipton in the store, because it means "I don't sell tea". Same as when a gentleman tried to get us to sell Chock-full-o-nuts (one of the cheaper coffee brands) because, "They make it with 100% Colombian, which everyone knows is the best in the world!" Same as the marketing from the local gas chains coffee being "100% arabica beans", which they want people to interpret as "Our 99 cent coffee is made from the best beans in the world" but which actually means "We hope you don't realize that our marketing obfuscates much more than it clarifies and we hope you are too stupid to notice". With that sort of thing, Big Cream and Big Sugar team up with Big Coffee for Big profits. We have no baseline.
Building a baseline, though, whether in drinks or ambiance, is difficult. Not all coffees taste the same and even similar coffees, from similar regions or sometimes the same farms, taste different from season to season. Blends change from roast to roast. Percentages in each brew are contingent and ever-shifting.
The lack of a baseline is so frustrating because I've seen so many shops here and elsewhere that have attached themselves to a substandard of coffee because the owners/baristas have never had good coffee. Their baseline is so low (and often driven by dreams of profit--ha!) that it is no wonder that people still don't like coffee...even owners and baristas.
They say you can't beat something with nothing. So, what should the baseline be? I don't think I can give a definitive answer, but I've got hints in a direction that we are following here. Coffee, regardless of brew method, should be (at least) palatable with cream, sugar, or additional flavorents. If not, something is wrong and (as an owner/barista) you need to find out what and change it or (as a consumer) you need to send it back and create the demand for the owner/barista to do their part. If your espresso blend does not taste good straight, but shines in milk drinks, let your customers know that. If your espresso blend does not hold up well in milk, but shines as a straight shot, let your customers know.
I would love to hear your opinions on this, whether you are a drinker, an abstainer, or a professional. Let's build the baseline here in Beaver County.
Really this discussion cuts to the quick of my marketing whining (as seen in the last post)--we have no baseline definition of quality, whether in drinks or in ambiance. One question that I'm confronted with often from my staff is "what should it taste like?" and we spend hours each day thinking about it. The impression of what coffee and espresso should taste like from a consumer standpoint makes my head hurt. Not to mention the often obtuse tasting notes from "quality-oriented" roasters (note: I have had coffee that tasted like pink grapefruit and one that tasted like fresh-roasted peanuts, but those flavors were so overwhelming that the descriptions were more than apt). Same applies to roasting level--I've only met two people who *actually* like dark-roasted coffee, most folks I've met think dark roast is better because they've been told by some self-proclaimed coffee "authority" that dark is best for everything and everyone. We have no baseline.
Part of the problem, I think, is that we have assumed that coffee tastes a certain way and espresso tastes a certain way. Considering the sad state of coffee in this country (analogous to the state of tea and food in general), it is no surprise. I get chided for not carrying Lipton in the store, because it means "I don't sell tea". Same as when a gentleman tried to get us to sell Chock-full-o-nuts (one of the cheaper coffee brands) because, "They make it with 100% Colombian, which everyone knows is the best in the world!" Same as the marketing from the local gas chains coffee being "100% arabica beans", which they want people to interpret as "Our 99 cent coffee is made from the best beans in the world" but which actually means "We hope you don't realize that our marketing obfuscates much more than it clarifies and we hope you are too stupid to notice". With that sort of thing, Big Cream and Big Sugar team up with Big Coffee for Big profits. We have no baseline.
Building a baseline, though, whether in drinks or ambiance, is difficult. Not all coffees taste the same and even similar coffees, from similar regions or sometimes the same farms, taste different from season to season. Blends change from roast to roast. Percentages in each brew are contingent and ever-shifting.
The lack of a baseline is so frustrating because I've seen so many shops here and elsewhere that have attached themselves to a substandard of coffee because the owners/baristas have never had good coffee. Their baseline is so low (and often driven by dreams of profit--ha!) that it is no wonder that people still don't like coffee...even owners and baristas.
They say you can't beat something with nothing. So, what should the baseline be? I don't think I can give a definitive answer, but I've got hints in a direction that we are following here. Coffee, regardless of brew method, should be (at least) palatable with cream, sugar, or additional flavorents. If not, something is wrong and (as an owner/barista) you need to find out what and change it or (as a consumer) you need to send it back and create the demand for the owner/barista to do their part. If your espresso blend does not taste good straight, but shines in milk drinks, let your customers know that. If your espresso blend does not hold up well in milk, but shines as a straight shot, let your customers know.
I would love to hear your opinions on this, whether you are a drinker, an abstainer, or a professional. Let's build the baseline here in Beaver County.
Sunday, February 17, 2008
Passion for the bean
This weekend impressed, once again, in my mind why we roast and try to roast well:
Because we can. But even more importantly, because we should.
I suffer (or, better yet, my wife suffers because of me) from a sinusoidal polarity in my personality. I ascend to extreme ups, only to crash into (wasteful) periods of unrelenting depression. The frequency is so high, though, that I don't spend a whole lot of time in the middle, where productivity happens. This post, for better or worse, is on an uptrend day (last night, not so much).
Ever since we left CoffeeFest (but not DC, John Carpenter hasn't let us out yet), I've been itching to pull shots and to roast. I've devised a few drinks I want to try, a few roasting experiments (what about beans with vastly different roast dates in a blend--properly aged post-roast of course), and we are hosting our first ever latte art party tomorrow night at the C&T (come one, come all). All I can think of, though, is the one off-coffee we cupped at Aldo's sometime back--the acrid taste of cigarettes and turpentine (Erik's description). Turned out to be a mass brand that a lot of people in the area drink, including some customers of mine that like to drink ours in-house, but don't have the budget to drink ours at home. Couple that with the surprised looks I've invariably gotten from folks when I tell them that the best-tasting cup of coffee I've ever had was from a decaf Sumatra right off the roast (and medium at that!).
It all reminds me that I love what I'm doing. If anything ever goes south here in the Falls, I'm going to search around till I find something in the coffee world that lets me continue to push my own envelope and bring quality coffee to everyday folks (which I consider myself to be a part of). I want to take the gift that has been given to me by God, by farmers, by importers and do right by it. I want to coax the full potential out of the beans, both roasted and brewed. I'm beginning to see that this will require much more out of me than I initially thought (I only work 92 hours a week as it is now). Seeing the beautiful stemware (especially that of Sonja from Aldo) used in competition made me want to further differentiate my drinks: dessert, morning, lunch, and all-the-time. Imagine the Canaan Conquest (a latte with honey, vanilla, and a little cinnamon) as a con panna or an affogato--beautiful!
Everything done to the glory of God, a motto, a mantra that I've tried to live by, but have had trouble defining "glory". A least here, with this work, I'm seeing shades of meaning blossoming: full flavor and aroma, presented beautifully, prepared respectfully from growing to brewing. There is a reason that organizations like the SCAA exist and people dedicate their lives to this field: the chance to be human here is high, the possibilities exciting, and the community enlivening. Cheers.
Because we can. But even more importantly, because we should.
I suffer (or, better yet, my wife suffers because of me) from a sinusoidal polarity in my personality. I ascend to extreme ups, only to crash into (wasteful) periods of unrelenting depression. The frequency is so high, though, that I don't spend a whole lot of time in the middle, where productivity happens. This post, for better or worse, is on an uptrend day (last night, not so much).
Ever since we left CoffeeFest (but not DC, John Carpenter hasn't let us out yet), I've been itching to pull shots and to roast. I've devised a few drinks I want to try, a few roasting experiments (what about beans with vastly different roast dates in a blend--properly aged post-roast of course), and we are hosting our first ever latte art party tomorrow night at the C&T (come one, come all). All I can think of, though, is the one off-coffee we cupped at Aldo's sometime back--the acrid taste of cigarettes and turpentine (Erik's description). Turned out to be a mass brand that a lot of people in the area drink, including some customers of mine that like to drink ours in-house, but don't have the budget to drink ours at home. Couple that with the surprised looks I've invariably gotten from folks when I tell them that the best-tasting cup of coffee I've ever had was from a decaf Sumatra right off the roast (and medium at that!).
It all reminds me that I love what I'm doing. If anything ever goes south here in the Falls, I'm going to search around till I find something in the coffee world that lets me continue to push my own envelope and bring quality coffee to everyday folks (which I consider myself to be a part of). I want to take the gift that has been given to me by God, by farmers, by importers and do right by it. I want to coax the full potential out of the beans, both roasted and brewed. I'm beginning to see that this will require much more out of me than I initially thought (I only work 92 hours a week as it is now). Seeing the beautiful stemware (especially that of Sonja from Aldo) used in competition made me want to further differentiate my drinks: dessert, morning, lunch, and all-the-time. Imagine the Canaan Conquest (a latte with honey, vanilla, and a little cinnamon) as a con panna or an affogato--beautiful!
Everything done to the glory of God, a motto, a mantra that I've tried to live by, but have had trouble defining "glory". A least here, with this work, I'm seeing shades of meaning blossoming: full flavor and aroma, presented beautifully, prepared respectfully from growing to brewing. There is a reason that organizations like the SCAA exist and people dedicate their lives to this field: the chance to be human here is high, the possibilities exciting, and the community enlivening. Cheers.
Monday, January 14, 2008
The Most Exciting Thing
Well, Jake and I leave for Chicago early Saturday morning and should return late Saturday night with our new Ambex YM-5 roaster. Unfortunately, we will be missing the grand opening of Hwaet Books & Games, a wonderful new shop here in Beaver Falls. We will, however, be working closely with them in two regards: Hwaet will feature BFC&T coffee in their game-playing, book-reading area and we are housing our roasterie in the upper-back portion of their shop. Eventually we would like to host semi-public cuppings/tastings, but for now I think I'm just going to try and keep my head above the waters.
If you have never heard of him, Simon Hsieh is someone to check out. His passion and dedication to coffee is legendary and an inspiration to me as I'm fleshing out my roasting philosophy. My neighbors and friends don't deserve anything less than the best coffee that I can provide, so why wouldn't I take a clue from this master? The idea of a consistently good cup of coffee, with fewer variables running rampant (defects, in this case), fills me with great excitement. If you are drinking a cup of coffee, would you want defective, off-tastes in your cup? Hopefully not. If you aren't sure what "off-tastes" would be, hopefully I can show you what a good (and someday, God-willing, great) coffee should taste like. If I can get a small cadre of folks around here to care, then I've reached an important place. From there, it spreads.
Today has been, sort of, "gourmet day" for me. I've done research on roasting technique and philosophy, researched distilling liquor (and why not?), and seen our sandwiches housed in a much more attractive (and environmentally friendly) wrapper as opposed to the plastic clamshell. I'm looking forward to a great day behind the bar, especially since the students of Geneva, my alma mater are back. The students bring an energy to the shop that is more muted over breaks, which in turn gives us more energy and zest. I'll finish my day with making scones and possibly another round on biscotti--I'm using some new techniques with the scones, which, in my opinion, has greatly improved both texture and flavor of an already exceptional pastry. I'm also starting to dream of "choose your filling" pate a choux (as known as cream puffs). I'll go through a whole box of store-bought-frozen ones in about an hour (yes, I know gluttony is a sin...cream puffs excepted), so I think that home-made will be even better. Plus, if you can choose your filling, how could that not be, in the famed words of Peter Griffin, "freakin' sweet"? Top this off with my new quest for a great Muffaletta recipe and you'll complete this "day of food".
After writing that, I think I need some lunch.
If you have never heard of him, Simon Hsieh is someone to check out. His passion and dedication to coffee is legendary and an inspiration to me as I'm fleshing out my roasting philosophy. My neighbors and friends don't deserve anything less than the best coffee that I can provide, so why wouldn't I take a clue from this master? The idea of a consistently good cup of coffee, with fewer variables running rampant (defects, in this case), fills me with great excitement. If you are drinking a cup of coffee, would you want defective, off-tastes in your cup? Hopefully not. If you aren't sure what "off-tastes" would be, hopefully I can show you what a good (and someday, God-willing, great) coffee should taste like. If I can get a small cadre of folks around here to care, then I've reached an important place. From there, it spreads.
Today has been, sort of, "gourmet day" for me. I've done research on roasting technique and philosophy, researched distilling liquor (and why not?), and seen our sandwiches housed in a much more attractive (and environmentally friendly) wrapper as opposed to the plastic clamshell. I'm looking forward to a great day behind the bar, especially since the students of Geneva, my alma mater are back. The students bring an energy to the shop that is more muted over breaks, which in turn gives us more energy and zest. I'll finish my day with making scones and possibly another round on biscotti--I'm using some new techniques with the scones, which, in my opinion, has greatly improved both texture and flavor of an already exceptional pastry. I'm also starting to dream of "choose your filling" pate a choux (as known as cream puffs). I'll go through a whole box of store-bought-frozen ones in about an hour (yes, I know gluttony is a sin...cream puffs excepted), so I think that home-made will be even better. Plus, if you can choose your filling, how could that not be, in the famed words of Peter Griffin, "freakin' sweet"? Top this off with my new quest for a great Muffaletta recipe and you'll complete this "day of food".
After writing that, I think I need some lunch.
Thursday, November 29, 2007
Man, Machine, Coffee
Check out this picture here.
The Clover, the hottest toy in the coffee world, may get picked up by the world's largest coffee chain. The Clover is capable of producing some stellar brews and (of course) some lackluster ones. I've had both from well-trained professional hands. For the largest chain, this move makes a lot of sense: mechanical brewing that gives a concentrated amount of face-time with the customer. While the Clover does require training, I'm sure that it can produce brews up to the quality standards of said chain with a bare minimum. Not the full potential, mind you, but that isn't what mass marketing has ever been about.
As one astute commenter notes, if the chain picks up the Clover for all of its stores, it will introduce a new, potentially quality-increasing product to a large audience, which then will switch (statistically speaking) to the independent shops. Seems good for all.
However, my thought in general, not just about the Clover in particular, is that the introduction of mechanized technology into the equation does not make sense until the fundamentals of manual technology are at least understood, if not mastered. A Clover can produce a fine brew, but I've had just as good from a Chemex in regards to cleanness and just as good from a vac-pot in regards to taste clarity. In fact, I prefer almost all manual methods over commercial scale drip brewing (its that scale factor that gets me) and many over (shock! horror! gasp!) espresso brewing.
No doubt technology improves over time, but as Wendell Berry might say (if he were a Coffee Geek), the change from manual to mechanical isn't an improvement, it is a whole 'nother category. Technological improvement from manual methods involves redesigning carafes, fiddling with filters, and lots of training and cupping.
This isn't to say that mechanical brewing methods don't require skill: they do, even though an executive at the large aforementioned chain said even a "monkey can pull a double-shot" (don't get me started!). Pulling a shot of espresso is easy, pulling a decent (not to mention excellent) shot is doggedly hard. Manual methods, though, require a different skill and knowledge set than mechanical means. I think that, for the future of BFC&T at least, manual skills are what will set independents apart from the big boys, whether it is chains or grocery tin-cans.
The Clover, the hottest toy in the coffee world, may get picked up by the world's largest coffee chain. The Clover is capable of producing some stellar brews and (of course) some lackluster ones. I've had both from well-trained professional hands. For the largest chain, this move makes a lot of sense: mechanical brewing that gives a concentrated amount of face-time with the customer. While the Clover does require training, I'm sure that it can produce brews up to the quality standards of said chain with a bare minimum. Not the full potential, mind you, but that isn't what mass marketing has ever been about.
As one astute commenter notes, if the chain picks up the Clover for all of its stores, it will introduce a new, potentially quality-increasing product to a large audience, which then will switch (statistically speaking) to the independent shops. Seems good for all.
However, my thought in general, not just about the Clover in particular, is that the introduction of mechanized technology into the equation does not make sense until the fundamentals of manual technology are at least understood, if not mastered. A Clover can produce a fine brew, but I've had just as good from a Chemex in regards to cleanness and just as good from a vac-pot in regards to taste clarity. In fact, I prefer almost all manual methods over commercial scale drip brewing (its that scale factor that gets me) and many over (shock! horror! gasp!) espresso brewing.
No doubt technology improves over time, but as Wendell Berry might say (if he were a Coffee Geek), the change from manual to mechanical isn't an improvement, it is a whole 'nother category. Technological improvement from manual methods involves redesigning carafes, fiddling with filters, and lots of training and cupping.
This isn't to say that mechanical brewing methods don't require skill: they do, even though an executive at the large aforementioned chain said even a "monkey can pull a double-shot" (don't get me started!). Pulling a shot of espresso is easy, pulling a decent (not to mention excellent) shot is doggedly hard. Manual methods, though, require a different skill and knowledge set than mechanical means. I think that, for the future of BFC&T at least, manual skills are what will set independents apart from the big boys, whether it is chains or grocery tin-cans.
Wednesday, March 14, 2007
The Tyranny of the "Short"
We currently serve our drinks in small (12oz), medium (16oz), and large (20oz). In Seattle terminology, for what I understand of it, there is a missing size, the 8oz or 'short' (hence the reason that at some other places the 'small' is called the 'tall'). I purchased some 8oz cups (one latte bowl, one macchiato cup) and started trying to do art pours with single shots. I pulled off some amazingly beginner rosettas, something that has eluded me with the 12oz cups. I began to realize why...
The single shot ristretto is meant for the short, not for the tall. The blend and balance of espresso to milk is spot on, while on the 12oz they often taste too milky and pours are hard to do since the vast overpowering of milk tends to destroy too much of the crema (either that, or I just really need work on this). The double shot ristretto, however, doesn't work well in the 12oz, but works perfectly in the 16oz. In other words, the 12oz is a strange anamoly in the espresso world. Very few American consumers are going to get an 8oz drink, even pop comes in 12oz standard. However, folks want something smaller than 16oz.
I really like the short, though. It is the perfect amount for a latte or any espresso-based beverage, at least for my tastes. I like to drink my beverages fast and enjoy the mingle of foam, steamed milk, and espresso dance quickly over my tongue. The short gives me that ability.
Interesting, though, is our recent, unrelated decision, to only offer cappuccinos in the short variety. The reason being that if it isn't a short, it isn't a true Italian cappuccino--we are trying for integrity in all of our drinks and this is a short step towards it. Plus, trying to accurately foam a 20oz cappa can easily lead to burnt milk and poorly done foam. A short cappa is hard enough to do as it is.
The single shot ristretto is meant for the short, not for the tall. The blend and balance of espresso to milk is spot on, while on the 12oz they often taste too milky and pours are hard to do since the vast overpowering of milk tends to destroy too much of the crema (either that, or I just really need work on this). The double shot ristretto, however, doesn't work well in the 12oz, but works perfectly in the 16oz. In other words, the 12oz is a strange anamoly in the espresso world. Very few American consumers are going to get an 8oz drink, even pop comes in 12oz standard. However, folks want something smaller than 16oz.
I really like the short, though. It is the perfect amount for a latte or any espresso-based beverage, at least for my tastes. I like to drink my beverages fast and enjoy the mingle of foam, steamed milk, and espresso dance quickly over my tongue. The short gives me that ability.
Interesting, though, is our recent, unrelated decision, to only offer cappuccinos in the short variety. The reason being that if it isn't a short, it isn't a true Italian cappuccino--we are trying for integrity in all of our drinks and this is a short step towards it. Plus, trying to accurately foam a 20oz cappa can easily lead to burnt milk and poorly done foam. A short cappa is hard enough to do as it is.
Tuesday, February 27, 2007
Art
All of the employees and owners of BFC&T have been working on what is known as Latte Art. Jason has some pictures of his work on his site. This strange blend of physics, chemistry, and dexterity produces some beautiful cups of espresso. The ability to make rosettes and hearts is considered by many to be the mark of a true barista. The thing that every wannabe wants to hear is, "This is so beautiful I don't think I can drink it!"
Why?
In our culture of rush-rush-rush, a cup of coffee must be fast and frill-less. Folks who are used to a home brewing experience of instaneousness find it hard to wait in a line at a coffeeshop while a barista is making a cup. Many times I've found myself in that same position, looking at my watch, wondering what is taking them so darn long. Latte art, while not actually taking that much longer than the production of a non-art latte, serves as a justification for the wait. If your barista/entry-leverer does not provide the visual stimulation (or doesn't try, at the least--nobody said art was easy) for your wait, there is a legitimacy to the grumble. However, if your barista tries--sees coffee and milk and their combination as a gift--then hopefully the rush-rush-rush will for a second slow down for a wonderfully fully-orbed experience of coffee. And maybe, just maybe, the gift can be passed on.
We're trying it here and we hope you like it.
Why?
In our culture of rush-rush-rush, a cup of coffee must be fast and frill-less. Folks who are used to a home brewing experience of instaneousness find it hard to wait in a line at a coffeeshop while a barista is making a cup. Many times I've found myself in that same position, looking at my watch, wondering what is taking them so darn long. Latte art, while not actually taking that much longer than the production of a non-art latte, serves as a justification for the wait. If your barista/entry-leverer does not provide the visual stimulation (or doesn't try, at the least--nobody said art was easy) for your wait, there is a legitimacy to the grumble. However, if your barista tries--sees coffee and milk and their combination as a gift--then hopefully the rush-rush-rush will for a second slow down for a wonderfully fully-orbed experience of coffee. And maybe, just maybe, the gift can be passed on.
We're trying it here and we hope you like it.
Friday, February 23, 2007
Coffee as a Gift
I'm reflecting on an article by Chris DeFerio about what it means for him to be a barista. At one point, he says:
It involves a certain understanding that the barista has received a gift. Many corporate/entry level "barista" treat the bean like most Americans treat everything else: disposable. But to think of the work, love, and time that has been expended to get the bean to the barista is staggering. How can we not approach it with a level of humility and gentleness?
Even in a capitalist system, commodities do not need to be viewed as bought (and abusable) property, but rather as gifts. All things that are created are given to us by the Father God, so regardless if we have paid for them or not, thanks must be shown in our dealings with everything. Imagine the difference between a cup of coffee prepared by someone who views all beans as expendable foodstuffs or one who is passionately grateful for the product and the opportunity to make that product shine especially for you.
Drink for thought.
Coffee beans are practically vibrating with potential. Throughout its history, centuries of species migration and cultivation, hundreds of steps and stages in the processing of the green bean, the roasting of the bean to develop its potential further--all of it leads to differences from bean to bean. Then the barista recieves this little package and is responsible fro creating an accurate representation of all that has gone into that coffee....I feel priveleged to be a professional barista because I am the last link between grower and consumer, and it is my job to expose the bean's potential to the world.As a potential barista (my quality level is not quite there yet, but getting better everyday), I like knowing the same thing.
It involves a certain understanding that the barista has received a gift. Many corporate/entry level "barista" treat the bean like most Americans treat everything else: disposable. But to think of the work, love, and time that has been expended to get the bean to the barista is staggering. How can we not approach it with a level of humility and gentleness?
Even in a capitalist system, commodities do not need to be viewed as bought (and abusable) property, but rather as gifts. All things that are created are given to us by the Father God, so regardless if we have paid for them or not, thanks must be shown in our dealings with everything. Imagine the difference between a cup of coffee prepared by someone who views all beans as expendable foodstuffs or one who is passionately grateful for the product and the opportunity to make that product shine especially for you.
Drink for thought.
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