Just in case you had any questions about what a Nespresso machine was, or how it worked, here is a detailed tutorial. I do so love YouTube.
Sunday, March 14, 2010
Coffee, not Coffee Shop.
Today, I was invited for lunch by some friends, who thought I should meet their Nespresso machine (See Here: Swiss Shop). Hadn't heard of Nespresso before today, and was quite entertained by the concept, so thought I'd share. I know some on-campus coffee stands that might do well to "upgrade" this direction...
Just in case you had any questions about what a Nespresso machine was, or how it worked, here is a detailed tutorial. I do so love YouTube.
Enjoy!
Just in case you had any questions about what a Nespresso machine was, or how it worked, here is a detailed tutorial. I do so love YouTube.
Saturday, March 13, 2010
Herkimer - Phinney Ridge
I have officially found a coffee shop designed to be Rose-repellent. To begin with, it's in Phinney Ridge. Phinney Ridge gets its name from being a slim strip of a district set on the top of a hill. Parking on the main road is limited and unlikely, which means you'll probably end up parking down the hill a ways. I earned my coffee this morning with a hefty hike up 74th. It's good for me to get some exercise, I know, but I feel no guilt in complaining about it anyhow.
Alas, earning my coffee did not pay off. I did have cash on hand to buy a beverage from this cash-only establishment, but Herkimer's only non-dairy option is soy (which I am predictably allergic to). So I put aside my right to calories that could replace the ones I burned while walking up the hill, and ordered a single Americano. This earned me a serious side-eye from the barista, who informed me that all their drinks were doubles. Which I'd read on the sign, hence the specification of "single" in my order.
Of course, all of that stated, would you care to guess what they were dripping? Two coffees. A Sumatra, and a Honduras. HA! Two coffees I routinely dislike. It's like they were waiting for me!
Herkimer Coffee: 7320 Greenwood Ave. North
Why exactly Herkimer Coffee is called Herkimer Coffee is unknown to me, but I believe it is named after either the city, the village, or the county of Herkimer in New York, all of which are named after Nicholas Herkimer, a German American militia colonel killed (by wound infection and inexperienced surgeon) in the Revolutionary War. I think this ought to make it a heroic and honorable sort of coffee, so it's good to know that their buying centers on purchasing organic, shade grown coffees sold at higher prices which allow better pay for workers. They also take a great deal of pride in their coffee at a retail level: One of the baristas was kind enough to explain why they pull "double" shots (which, in volume, actually amount to about a regular shot and a half, but don't qualify as ristretto, due to a complicated process involving low-to-high water pressure introduction that I don't understand at all).
I sampled both the drip coffees, and had my sort-of single Americano, and here's what I've got to say:
The Honduras, for a Honduran coffee, was pretty mellow. It had an easy finish, smelled nicely floral, and tasted a little like tangelo to me. Not my favorite, but a nice Honduran coffee.
The Sumatra, I couldn't drink. Which brings me to why I dislike so many Sumatran coffees. Typically, you'll hear them described with words like "earthy" and "herbal," which I'm convinced is just a nice way of saying, "May have accidentally been cross-pollinated with a cannabis plant." Some Sumatras are more understated than others, and while Herkimer's Sumatra is by no means the strongest I've encountered, it was one of the most out-spoken in a while. The good of this is that it has prompted me, via Google, to find out that Cannabis is indigenous to South (not South East) Asia, and also that "cannabis curry" was ruled legal in Indonesia in 2007. So even though I thought the coffee was terrible, at least it turned out to be educational.
Last, but not least: the espresso possessed similar sweet citrus characteristics to the Honduras, but in my estimation, it was thin. (In body, not texture.) A friend of mine sent me to Herkimer because he loves their coffee, and was telling me how great the crema is, and since he knows his coffee, I have to give the benefit of the doubt to it and say that maybe my "sort of single" shot somehow destroyed their whole espresso system, because the crema on my coffee was fragile and boring.
So this coffee's not my cup of tea. And that's fine. I don't especially love the seating oddness of the location, or the musical background that may or may not have resulted from Amazon's "New Seattle Indie Bands" list, either. So I can pass.
I do love Phinney Ridge, though. It's charming. Even if it is all uphill.
Alas, earning my coffee did not pay off. I did have cash on hand to buy a beverage from this cash-only establishment, but Herkimer's only non-dairy option is soy (which I am predictably allergic to). So I put aside my right to calories that could replace the ones I burned while walking up the hill, and ordered a single Americano. This earned me a serious side-eye from the barista, who informed me that all their drinks were doubles. Which I'd read on the sign, hence the specification of "single" in my order.
Of course, all of that stated, would you care to guess what they were dripping? Two coffees. A Sumatra, and a Honduras. HA! Two coffees I routinely dislike. It's like they were waiting for me!
Why exactly Herkimer Coffee is called Herkimer Coffee is unknown to me, but I believe it is named after either the city, the village, or the county of Herkimer in New York, all of which are named after Nicholas Herkimer, a German American militia colonel killed (by wound infection and inexperienced surgeon) in the Revolutionary War. I think this ought to make it a heroic and honorable sort of coffee, so it's good to know that their buying centers on purchasing organic, shade grown coffees sold at higher prices which allow better pay for workers. They also take a great deal of pride in their coffee at a retail level: One of the baristas was kind enough to explain why they pull "double" shots (which, in volume, actually amount to about a regular shot and a half, but don't qualify as ristretto, due to a complicated process involving low-to-high water pressure introduction that I don't understand at all).
I sampled both the drip coffees, and had my sort-of single Americano, and here's what I've got to say:
The Honduras, for a Honduran coffee, was pretty mellow. It had an easy finish, smelled nicely floral, and tasted a little like tangelo to me. Not my favorite, but a nice Honduran coffee.
The Sumatra, I couldn't drink. Which brings me to why I dislike so many Sumatran coffees. Typically, you'll hear them described with words like "earthy" and "herbal," which I'm convinced is just a nice way of saying, "May have accidentally been cross-pollinated with a cannabis plant." Some Sumatras are more understated than others, and while Herkimer's Sumatra is by no means the strongest I've encountered, it was one of the most out-spoken in a while. The good of this is that it has prompted me, via Google, to find out that Cannabis is indigenous to South (not South East) Asia, and also that "cannabis curry" was ruled legal in Indonesia in 2007. So even though I thought the coffee was terrible, at least it turned out to be educational.
Last, but not least: the espresso possessed similar sweet citrus characteristics to the Honduras, but in my estimation, it was thin. (In body, not texture.) A friend of mine sent me to Herkimer because he loves their coffee, and was telling me how great the crema is, and since he knows his coffee, I have to give the benefit of the doubt to it and say that maybe my "sort of single" shot somehow destroyed their whole espresso system, because the crema on my coffee was fragile and boring.
So this coffee's not my cup of tea. And that's fine. I don't especially love the seating oddness of the location, or the musical background that may or may not have resulted from Amazon's "New Seattle Indie Bands" list, either. So I can pass.
I do love Phinney Ridge, though. It's charming. Even if it is all uphill.
Sunday, March 7, 2010
Fremont Coffee Company (Fremont)
As cities go, Seattle can be a little tough on those of us who drive these funny things called cars. I'm pretty sure this is part of a long-term scheme for turning us into a bikes-only city, but car drivers in Seattle spend approximately half their time fighting traffic between districts, and the other half driving around and around neighborhood blocks looking for parking. Searching out one parallel parking space on a street where half the cars have luxury parked and are taking up 1.5 spaces can drive a person to insanity. But every so often, when you've finally found a place far enough off the beaten path that you'll have to walk several blocks to your destination, traveling by way of the sketchiest street in the neighborhood and wondering if it might have made more sense to walk in the first place... every so often, it pays off.
Every so often, your walk takes you past a place like Theo Chocolate, on the corner of 34th and Phinney in Fremont, where chocolate samples abound and brilliantly flavored confections are arranged in a case as lovingly as if they were fine jewelry. Theo Chocolates' was one of the first local chocolates I discovered when I moved here, and I have yet to be disappointed with it. It's not coffee, but let me say: you should visit the factory. Even if you have before. Their line of specialty chocolates changes seasonally. It's worth checking up periodically on what they're sharing with the world.
But on to the coffee.
I spent my day yesterday on the porch of Fremont's historic Denny House, enjoying a perfect combination of sun and shade (ie, enough to stay warm, but not so much I couldn't see my computer screen) at the Fremont Coffee Company. I'm not sure that "Seattle's historic Denny House" is historic for any reason other than being old and needing new paint, but it's a fun location for a coffee shop as the original floor plan is still basically intact. This means there isn't any central indoor location to congregate, but are instead multiple smaller rooms with tables and chairs, cutting down on the age-old dilemma of "student cramming for finals" being trapped next to "three women who haven't seen each other in years and sound a little like a chicken coop as each tries to fit a word in edgewise about her husband and kids."
Fremont Coffee Company: 459 North 36th Street
This location wins, by far, the award for "most comfortable seating." The large wicker chairs and old, worn cushions evoke memories of summers spent in the South, and people flooding to their porches as soon as the sun disappeared, sweet tea in hand. It's homey, familiar, and relaxing. Excellent for sitting. Perhaps not as excellent for studying, but if you're going to sit somewhere for 5 hours trying to track down one source (some source, any source) for a paper you're writing, you may as well sit somewhere nice. Problematically, Fremont Coffee's WiFi requires a password, and the login is only valid for one time, one computer, and one 4-hour period, after which it expires. Not all bad, I guess, if you've been sitting for 4 hours and are forced to get up and walk to the front desk for a new password. But incredibly frustrating when you're 3/4 of the way through downloading a page through Google translator. So keep it in mind, watch the clock, and be prepared when you visit.
The Ethiopian Harrar, which they were brewing when I arrived, is actually really well summed up by FCC's description of it as "a distinctive nose of blueberry and raspberry, which gives way to a spicy, oaky body." The barista thought they were brewing Sumatra, so my first taste of the sample was a bit of a shock treatment. I can tell you with certainty that Ethiopian Harrar tastes nothing like a Sumatran coffee, and can also candidly tell you from my moment of surprise that it does have hints of raspberry. The Espresso, however, does not taste like nectarine. It's good, and I found some distinct citrus notes as my Americano drifted toward cold, but for the most part, I was aware of heavier "tobacco" and "black pepper" flavors (to continue borrowing terms from their labels.)
All in all: Fremont Coffee Company roasts locally, supports fair trade coffee producers internationally, uses solar energy, has comfy chairs, offers about an equal amount of outdoor and indoor seating, and features cheerful, friendly, accommodating baristas. And it's within easy walking distance of a number of great Fremont locations. Like Theo Chocolate.
Check out Coffee Tao, FCC Roastmaster Aric Annear's entertaining blog, and drop by for a visit on your way to buy truffles.
Every so often, your walk takes you past a place like Theo Chocolate, on the corner of 34th and Phinney in Fremont, where chocolate samples abound and brilliantly flavored confections are arranged in a case as lovingly as if they were fine jewelry. Theo Chocolates' was one of the first local chocolates I discovered when I moved here, and I have yet to be disappointed with it. It's not coffee, but let me say: you should visit the factory. Even if you have before. Their line of specialty chocolates changes seasonally. It's worth checking up periodically on what they're sharing with the world.
But on to the coffee.
I spent my day yesterday on the porch of Fremont's historic Denny House, enjoying a perfect combination of sun and shade (ie, enough to stay warm, but not so much I couldn't see my computer screen) at the Fremont Coffee Company. I'm not sure that "Seattle's historic Denny House" is historic for any reason other than being old and needing new paint, but it's a fun location for a coffee shop as the original floor plan is still basically intact. This means there isn't any central indoor location to congregate, but are instead multiple smaller rooms with tables and chairs, cutting down on the age-old dilemma of "student cramming for finals" being trapped next to "three women who haven't seen each other in years and sound a little like a chicken coop as each tries to fit a word in edgewise about her husband and kids."
This location wins, by far, the award for "most comfortable seating." The large wicker chairs and old, worn cushions evoke memories of summers spent in the South, and people flooding to their porches as soon as the sun disappeared, sweet tea in hand. It's homey, familiar, and relaxing. Excellent for sitting. Perhaps not as excellent for studying, but if you're going to sit somewhere for 5 hours trying to track down one source (some source, any source) for a paper you're writing, you may as well sit somewhere nice. Problematically, Fremont Coffee's WiFi requires a password, and the login is only valid for one time, one computer, and one 4-hour period, after which it expires. Not all bad, I guess, if you've been sitting for 4 hours and are forced to get up and walk to the front desk for a new password. But incredibly frustrating when you're 3/4 of the way through downloading a page through Google translator. So keep it in mind, watch the clock, and be prepared when you visit.
The Ethiopian Harrar, which they were brewing when I arrived, is actually really well summed up by FCC's description of it as "a distinctive nose of blueberry and raspberry, which gives way to a spicy, oaky body." The barista thought they were brewing Sumatra, so my first taste of the sample was a bit of a shock treatment. I can tell you with certainty that Ethiopian Harrar tastes nothing like a Sumatran coffee, and can also candidly tell you from my moment of surprise that it does have hints of raspberry. The Espresso, however, does not taste like nectarine. It's good, and I found some distinct citrus notes as my Americano drifted toward cold, but for the most part, I was aware of heavier "tobacco" and "black pepper" flavors (to continue borrowing terms from their labels.)
All in all: Fremont Coffee Company roasts locally, supports fair trade coffee producers internationally, uses solar energy, has comfy chairs, offers about an equal amount of outdoor and indoor seating, and features cheerful, friendly, accommodating baristas. And it's within easy walking distance of a number of great Fremont locations. Like Theo Chocolate.
Check out Coffee Tao, FCC Roastmaster Aric Annear's entertaining blog, and drop by for a visit on your way to buy truffles.
Monday, March 1, 2010
Caffe Vita (Fremont)
I hate poorly designed tables. I'm not sure why coffee shops seem so intent on specializing in them, but should you ever be in need of a table that is awkwardly shaped, brilliantly imbalanced, or in any other way hazardous to materials placed on it... just stroll down the street to your local coffee place and see if they'd be willing to let you buy one of theirs. Why yes, I did just spill coffee all over my essay. Good thing it missed the computer.
I've been enjoying watching the intersection of 43rd and Fremont for the past couple of hours. People do silly things at this intersection. And wear silly clothes. (I'm sorry, Ma'am. It's not that I'm judging you. I just think your hat is superfluous.) And have silly little dogs, prancing around on the ends of spindly little leashes. It's a good time. Fremont is one of my favorite Seattle districts, for its unique mix of people and eclectic blend of shops you can pass a hundred times before you realize that they're there. Among it all, Caffe Vita holds the distinct privilege of an obvious corner location, and a steady stream of patrons.
Caffe Vita: 4301 Fremont Avenue North
When I arrived this afternoon, they were brewing their Gayo River Sumatra, so I sipped on a sample of that while waiting for my americano. My opinion on Sumatra has now been put on hold. I would formerly, hands down, have said I didn't like Sumatran coffee. But I am forced to say that I like this one, and consequently, will now be forced to taste others and see how I feel about them as well. Bother. Typically, a Sumatra will have more "earth" and "herb" than I like in a coffee. This one has subtler, sweeter undertones while still maintaining, as they say, a "swaggering" body.
By contrast, the americano was ok, but I would say over-sweet. Their espresso is mild enough that pulling ristretto shots almost leaves it tasting undeveloped. Although, it might not be a bad thing that I didn't put any sugar in it. We can say this coffee is undoubtedly better for your teeth!
Overall, this location gets my vote. As long as you're only one person. I'm here studying with a friend, and we found two tables to put together, but for the most part it is strictly "two people meeting" or "one person studying" space. People on Urbanspoon wrote many nasty things about the baristas being mean, and the service being slow, but I contest both. The barista seems quite personable, and I haven't seen anyone have to wait long for their coffee.
It's worth stopping in. For the Coffee, for the Theo Chocolate (which Vita has a partnership with... look!), and for the very artistic informational postcards about the coffee.
Careful with the tables, though. You've been warned.
I've been enjoying watching the intersection of 43rd and Fremont for the past couple of hours. People do silly things at this intersection. And wear silly clothes. (I'm sorry, Ma'am. It's not that I'm judging you. I just think your hat is superfluous.) And have silly little dogs, prancing around on the ends of spindly little leashes. It's a good time. Fremont is one of my favorite Seattle districts, for its unique mix of people and eclectic blend of shops you can pass a hundred times before you realize that they're there. Among it all, Caffe Vita holds the distinct privilege of an obvious corner location, and a steady stream of patrons.
When I arrived this afternoon, they were brewing their Gayo River Sumatra, so I sipped on a sample of that while waiting for my americano. My opinion on Sumatra has now been put on hold. I would formerly, hands down, have said I didn't like Sumatran coffee. But I am forced to say that I like this one, and consequently, will now be forced to taste others and see how I feel about them as well. Bother. Typically, a Sumatra will have more "earth" and "herb" than I like in a coffee. This one has subtler, sweeter undertones while still maintaining, as they say, a "swaggering" body.
By contrast, the americano was ok, but I would say over-sweet. Their espresso is mild enough that pulling ristretto shots almost leaves it tasting undeveloped. Although, it might not be a bad thing that I didn't put any sugar in it. We can say this coffee is undoubtedly better for your teeth!
Overall, this location gets my vote. As long as you're only one person. I'm here studying with a friend, and we found two tables to put together, but for the most part it is strictly "two people meeting" or "one person studying" space. People on Urbanspoon wrote many nasty things about the baristas being mean, and the service being slow, but I contest both. The barista seems quite personable, and I haven't seen anyone have to wait long for their coffee.
It's worth stopping in. For the Coffee, for the Theo Chocolate (which Vita has a partnership with... look!), and for the very artistic informational postcards about the coffee.
Careful with the tables, though. You've been warned.
Saturday, February 27, 2010
Aster Coffee Lounge (Ballard)
Somehow, this juxtaposition of Verdi's "Requiem" (current ear-bud selection) and Modest Mouse's "Float On" (current in-house music) seems wrong. If nothing else, it is at least extremely odd.
Saturday finds me sitting at the Aster Coffee Lounge again, discovering how spacious their tables aren't. My 8 oz. cup of Clover fresh brew Brazilian Agua Preta is just barely within reach, and perched precariously on the edge of a little round table I've cluttered with a computer and so many books that I've had to spread out to an extra chair as well. I object. But less to the lack of space than to the descriptors given for this coffee, which bills itself as milk chocolate, but is most definitely a jewel-toned blackberry flavor. The barista thinks I'm crazy, but I won't be swayed. Unless it's to say "huckleberry" instead of "blackberry." I'd settle for that. I like the coffee a lot. Taste no chocolate, though, milk or otherwise.
In spite of the book/coffee-balancing act, I really do love this place. The tables are small, but the room makes up for that. The pastries look good, the coffee is good, and as long as you can find a chair-table combo to put all your research material on, this is a perfect place to write. Of the numerous times I've been here, the music has never once been annoying... except when it's clashing with what I'm trying to study. But the fact that I chose to major in music is not Aster's fault, and I will happily put up with conflicting music if it means I get homemade syrups in my flavored coffee, and almost-foam art in my rice-milk latte.
I also discovered today (for the rest of the population) that the food menu here includes giant waffles until 4:00 pm every day. I discovered this because a little girl about the age of 5 or 6 went by me a while ago, carrying one across the room on her way to curl up in an armchair with the day's paper, and it was nearly as big as she was.
Wine. Waffles. Homemade Syrups. Eco-Friendly business...
As we say in the facebook world: "Like."
Saturday finds me sitting at the Aster Coffee Lounge again, discovering how spacious their tables aren't. My 8 oz. cup of Clover fresh brew Brazilian Agua Preta is just barely within reach, and perched precariously on the edge of a little round table I've cluttered with a computer and so many books that I've had to spread out to an extra chair as well. I object. But less to the lack of space than to the descriptors given for this coffee, which bills itself as milk chocolate, but is most definitely a jewel-toned blackberry flavor. The barista thinks I'm crazy, but I won't be swayed. Unless it's to say "huckleberry" instead of "blackberry." I'd settle for that. I like the coffee a lot. Taste no chocolate, though, milk or otherwise.
In spite of the book/coffee-balancing act, I really do love this place. The tables are small, but the room makes up for that. The pastries look good, the coffee is good, and as long as you can find a chair-table combo to put all your research material on, this is a perfect place to write. Of the numerous times I've been here, the music has never once been annoying... except when it's clashing with what I'm trying to study. But the fact that I chose to major in music is not Aster's fault, and I will happily put up with conflicting music if it means I get homemade syrups in my flavored coffee, and almost-foam art in my rice-milk latte.
I also discovered today (for the rest of the population) that the food menu here includes giant waffles until 4:00 pm every day. I discovered this because a little girl about the age of 5 or 6 went by me a while ago, carrying one across the room on her way to curl up in an armchair with the day's paper, and it was nearly as big as she was.
Wine. Waffles. Homemade Syrups. Eco-Friendly business...
As we say in the facebook world: "Like."
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
Neptune Coffee (Greenwood)
I wish two things.
First and foremost, I wish I'd worn socks today. Seattle has been sneak-attacking its citizens with weather for the past few weeks, and my wardrobe is confused. I refuse to conform to the Northwest stereotype of wearing sandals and socks, and I don't even own a pair of Birkenstocks so it really wouldn't work out for me anyhow. My Seattle Spring (which I hereby rename, "Sumwinter") Compromise is usually a semi-trendy pair of ballet flats that are technically shoes, but don't allow for proper socks. As long as it is summer, it's great. But today, it was only summer for a few minutes (the ones while I was choosing my outfit), and it's been edging back toward winter ever since, and my feet have no appreciation for how cute my shoes are. They are cold.
Secondly, and considerably more apropos, I wish I could drink more coffee. For those who do not know me: most ingestible substances and I keep a complicated relationship status. I am technically allergic or "sensitive" to the bulk of normal ingredients, from whathaveyou to thattoo. Coffee falls into this mix, creating a passionate sentiment between it and myself somewhere on the order of Dominick Argento's song cycle, "I Hate and I Love." I adore coffee, but am unquestionably confined to single shot beverages. One per day. And some days, fewer.
This makes coffee blogging fun. Tricky, but fun. I look forward to a coffee adventure most of the day when I know I'm going to go out, get a cup of joe, and enjoy coffee shop culture while I slog my way through whatever I happen to be reading or writing about that day. Unfortunately, it also makes me easy to disappoint, and a single americano that lacks crema results in a crestfallen Rose. It can be a challenge to recover, contemplate, and consider the rest of the situation, unless the environment is really doing well for itself. Or unless a conversation with a roaster leads to free samples of other coffee. Then I will drink more than my allotted single shot, forgive almost anything... and the next day, regret my very existence.
Today, I am at Neptune Coffee in Greenwood. Neptune is fun. Entertaining art, smart use of space, great sense of humor and community... and creatively serving "vintage" pastries where most would serve "day old." It's an ideal location for studying, with lots of light, good music selection, and the appropriate spacing between tables to allow you to sit down next to a stranger without sitting with or on them. It's open, with breezy, calming colors. And the coffee's alright.
I've been here for four hours, and think the baristas (so far, three) are a little hit and miss in terms of their friendliness and willingness to talk about coffee. Their website doesn't list a lot of information, and the barista who floated a shot in water for my americano didn't want to be chatty, so it took a lot of fruitless wondering as to why the espresso was such an intriguingly dark and one-dimensional color before I found the needed informational source in owner Dan Baumfeld. Frustrating, because it means I can only sound as knowledgeable as I am, and say "Um, it tastes lighter than it looks?" But one short conversation later, I can hold forth about how the espresso blend is Guatemalan, Brazilian, Honduran, and Sumatran, and start putting my own opinion to work.
Blanketly speaking, Latin American coffees are considered more mild in flavor (by comparison, say, to an African coffee) and Indonesian coffees trend toward descriptors such as "nutty" or "herbal." The Honduras is a younger, less common coffee producing region than many others, and has a distinct flavor that I have yet to develop a good vocabulary for, frequently hearing described unhelpfully as "really different." In my limited experience, I am not a fan of either Sumatran or Honduran coffee, and since both are strong flavor components, I don't especially love the Neptune Espresso blend.
On the other hand, however, is the single origin Sulawesi shot I was given to taste. It was incredibly familiar, but unidentifiable. Until I left, and, in walking up the street, spied the Chocolati Cafe. "Oh hey! I know what it is!" I thought to myself, and, taking that excuse (as I will take any excuse) to buy a truffle, I ducked into the cafe and purchased a dark chocolate Grand Marnier truffle. Cognac. Cognac, and chocolate. Hello, Sulawesi. Rich, bright, and forward to the taste, with an exceptionally long finish. Long enough to walk down the street and buy comparison chocolate.
Back to the topic: I've enjoyed my stay at Neptune; if I weren't allergic to sandwiches I would be ecstatic about their sandwich menu, which looks phenomenal. They do serve Pear Cider alongside their selection of beer, so next time I'm out at a coffee shop looking for alcohol (less sarcastic than it sounds when you're a frustrated grad student), I just might give that a go.
Honestly, I have to say that I wouldn't come back for the coffee alone. I would come back for the atmosphere. And probably for the owner, who is currently playing air-piano behind the bar, and shooting the breeze with anyone and everyone who gets within conversational range.
But you know, in sitting and staring up at their menu board, I have to say that the thing I will most definitely be returning for, as soon as Sumwinter makes up its mind which way to go, will be the ice cream. Three words: Molly Moon, Affogato. Enough said.
Meanwhile, if you, like me, have had too much coffee for your day, I suggest stopping in at Chocolati for some hot cocoa. You'll be hard pressed to find a better selection anywhere around town.
8415 Greenwood Avenue North
First and foremost, I wish I'd worn socks today. Seattle has been sneak-attacking its citizens with weather for the past few weeks, and my wardrobe is confused. I refuse to conform to the Northwest stereotype of wearing sandals and socks, and I don't even own a pair of Birkenstocks so it really wouldn't work out for me anyhow. My Seattle Spring (which I hereby rename, "Sumwinter") Compromise is usually a semi-trendy pair of ballet flats that are technically shoes, but don't allow for proper socks. As long as it is summer, it's great. But today, it was only summer for a few minutes (the ones while I was choosing my outfit), and it's been edging back toward winter ever since, and my feet have no appreciation for how cute my shoes are. They are cold.
Secondly, and considerably more apropos, I wish I could drink more coffee. For those who do not know me: most ingestible substances and I keep a complicated relationship status. I am technically allergic or "sensitive" to the bulk of normal ingredients, from whathaveyou to thattoo. Coffee falls into this mix, creating a passionate sentiment between it and myself somewhere on the order of Dominick Argento's song cycle, "I Hate and I Love." I adore coffee, but am unquestionably confined to single shot beverages. One per day. And some days, fewer.
This makes coffee blogging fun. Tricky, but fun. I look forward to a coffee adventure most of the day when I know I'm going to go out, get a cup of joe, and enjoy coffee shop culture while I slog my way through whatever I happen to be reading or writing about that day. Unfortunately, it also makes me easy to disappoint, and a single americano that lacks crema results in a crestfallen Rose. It can be a challenge to recover, contemplate, and consider the rest of the situation, unless the environment is really doing well for itself. Or unless a conversation with a roaster leads to free samples of other coffee. Then I will drink more than my allotted single shot, forgive almost anything... and the next day, regret my very existence.
Today, I am at Neptune Coffee in Greenwood. Neptune is fun. Entertaining art, smart use of space, great sense of humor and community... and creatively serving "vintage" pastries where most would serve "day old." It's an ideal location for studying, with lots of light, good music selection, and the appropriate spacing between tables to allow you to sit down next to a stranger without sitting with or on them. It's open, with breezy, calming colors. And the coffee's alright.
I've been here for four hours, and think the baristas (so far, three) are a little hit and miss in terms of their friendliness and willingness to talk about coffee. Their website doesn't list a lot of information, and the barista who floated a shot in water for my americano didn't want to be chatty, so it took a lot of fruitless wondering as to why the espresso was such an intriguingly dark and one-dimensional color before I found the needed informational source in owner Dan Baumfeld. Frustrating, because it means I can only sound as knowledgeable as I am, and say "Um, it tastes lighter than it looks?" But one short conversation later, I can hold forth about how the espresso blend is Guatemalan, Brazilian, Honduran, and Sumatran, and start putting my own opinion to work.
Blanketly speaking, Latin American coffees are considered more mild in flavor (by comparison, say, to an African coffee) and Indonesian coffees trend toward descriptors such as "nutty" or "herbal." The Honduras is a younger, less common coffee producing region than many others, and has a distinct flavor that I have yet to develop a good vocabulary for, frequently hearing described unhelpfully as "really different." In my limited experience, I am not a fan of either Sumatran or Honduran coffee, and since both are strong flavor components, I don't especially love the Neptune Espresso blend.
On the other hand, however, is the single origin Sulawesi shot I was given to taste. It was incredibly familiar, but unidentifiable. Until I left, and, in walking up the street, spied the Chocolati Cafe. "Oh hey! I know what it is!" I thought to myself, and, taking that excuse (as I will take any excuse) to buy a truffle, I ducked into the cafe and purchased a dark chocolate Grand Marnier truffle. Cognac. Cognac, and chocolate. Hello, Sulawesi. Rich, bright, and forward to the taste, with an exceptionally long finish. Long enough to walk down the street and buy comparison chocolate.
Back to the topic: I've enjoyed my stay at Neptune; if I weren't allergic to sandwiches I would be ecstatic about their sandwich menu, which looks phenomenal. They do serve Pear Cider alongside their selection of beer, so next time I'm out at a coffee shop looking for alcohol (less sarcastic than it sounds when you're a frustrated grad student), I just might give that a go.
Honestly, I have to say that I wouldn't come back for the coffee alone. I would come back for the atmosphere. And probably for the owner, who is currently playing air-piano behind the bar, and shooting the breeze with anyone and everyone who gets within conversational range.
But you know, in sitting and staring up at their menu board, I have to say that the thing I will most definitely be returning for, as soon as Sumwinter makes up its mind which way to go, will be the ice cream. Three words: Molly Moon, Affogato. Enough said.
Meanwhile, if you, like me, have had too much coffee for your day, I suggest stopping in at Chocolati for some hot cocoa. You'll be hard pressed to find a better selection anywhere around town.
Thursday, February 18, 2010
Caffè Appassionato (Wallingford)
If something can be impressively generic, I feel that Caffè Appassionato: Wallingford should win that award. You, being a fan of the place, may take offense at this, but first: read on. When I say "impressively generic," I mean it was so generic I actually was impressed.
Located at the corner of N 45th Street and Stone Way N, Caffè Appassionato is a fairly recent addition to a handful of places bearing the name around the Seattle area (and... one store in Massachusetts?). They all serve their "passionate coffee" from Magnolia, taking the name from the roasting company, but from what I've been told, each location is independently owned and operated. I point this out for one important reason. I visited Caffè Appassionato in Wallingford due to the recommendation of a friend (familiar with their Shoreline location) who informed me it was one of the best places around Seattle to get coffee. And I want to say that I don't disbelieve you, friend. I just haven't been to Shoreline yet.
As far as Wallingford goes, though, here are my thoughts:
This is not a location set up for coffee. The area existing between bar, register, and pastry case, the inconveniently placed pillar (between the bar and register), and an overall arrangement disallowing any consistent direction to flow of traffic on either the customer or employee side of things makes the situation flat-out uncomfortable for anyone who has worked in coffee and has to stand and look at the setup without being able to do a thing to fix it. What acts as a saving grace, in my limited observation, is that this isn't likely to turn into a high-volume store. It lives on the corner of the least pedestrian intersection in a district where businesses all rely on pedestrian traffic. A lot of people drive by, but I doubt that many walk in. At least, not in the couple hours I was sitting there. It stayed neither empty nor full; not dead, but also not busy. Right in the middle, much like the rest of it.
I was unimpressed by the coffee. They were brewing their "morning passion" roast, which I am told is one of their most popular. And while it was fine, it wasn't interesting. I can see it being a good morning coffee, as there isn't anything threatening or thought-provoking about it. (A morning coffee for not-morning-people!) The barista on duty was great, friendly and accommodating and conversational, but thoroughly burned the rice milk for my latte, and the espresso hadn't retained enough flavor to help it out. Additionally, sadly, the mugs were only about as cool as the ones you get at a complimentary average-hotel breakfast.
On the flip side, this is a great location for studying. There is nothing distracting about it, and it's fairly pleasant. It feels like a coffee shop that ought to be attached to a bookstore, with its heavy furniture, occasional arm chairs, wood paneling, and very academic lamps. The music is all Ben Gibbard-esque, and there isn't much to look at outside the windows. It is perfect for reading, if uninspiring for writing, and I got through the bulk of Whitman's "Drump Taps" with no interruption. (I am reading "Drum Taps" in an effort to grasp some greater context for Ralph Vaughan William's "Dona Nobis Pacem," paper #5 on the march toward All Done.)
Unfortunately, my creative spirit got bored and wandered off, which means I didn't even remember to get a picture. So you'll have to take my word for it (unless you visit) that the terrace is very like a lot of the newer strip mall architecture of Atlanta, which can't make up its mind what exactly it would like to be, and so tends to make all its patterns out of squares. Those of you who have been to Atlanta might know what I mean. The rest of you... I'm sorry. If you post a complaint, I'll try to get a friend to take a picture for you.
Located at the corner of N 45th Street and Stone Way N, Caffè Appassionato is a fairly recent addition to a handful of places bearing the name around the Seattle area (and... one store in Massachusetts?). They all serve their "passionate coffee" from Magnolia, taking the name from the roasting company, but from what I've been told, each location is independently owned and operated. I point this out for one important reason. I visited Caffè Appassionato in Wallingford due to the recommendation of a friend (familiar with their Shoreline location) who informed me it was one of the best places around Seattle to get coffee. And I want to say that I don't disbelieve you, friend. I just haven't been to Shoreline yet.
As far as Wallingford goes, though, here are my thoughts:
This is not a location set up for coffee. The area existing between bar, register, and pastry case, the inconveniently placed pillar (between the bar and register), and an overall arrangement disallowing any consistent direction to flow of traffic on either the customer or employee side of things makes the situation flat-out uncomfortable for anyone who has worked in coffee and has to stand and look at the setup without being able to do a thing to fix it. What acts as a saving grace, in my limited observation, is that this isn't likely to turn into a high-volume store. It lives on the corner of the least pedestrian intersection in a district where businesses all rely on pedestrian traffic. A lot of people drive by, but I doubt that many walk in. At least, not in the couple hours I was sitting there. It stayed neither empty nor full; not dead, but also not busy. Right in the middle, much like the rest of it.
I was unimpressed by the coffee. They were brewing their "morning passion" roast, which I am told is one of their most popular. And while it was fine, it wasn't interesting. I can see it being a good morning coffee, as there isn't anything threatening or thought-provoking about it. (A morning coffee for not-morning-people!) The barista on duty was great, friendly and accommodating and conversational, but thoroughly burned the rice milk for my latte, and the espresso hadn't retained enough flavor to help it out. Additionally, sadly, the mugs were only about as cool as the ones you get at a complimentary average-hotel breakfast.
On the flip side, this is a great location for studying. There is nothing distracting about it, and it's fairly pleasant. It feels like a coffee shop that ought to be attached to a bookstore, with its heavy furniture, occasional arm chairs, wood paneling, and very academic lamps. The music is all Ben Gibbard-esque, and there isn't much to look at outside the windows. It is perfect for reading, if uninspiring for writing, and I got through the bulk of Whitman's "Drump Taps" with no interruption. (I am reading "Drum Taps" in an effort to grasp some greater context for Ralph Vaughan William's "Dona Nobis Pacem," paper #5 on the march toward All Done.)
Unfortunately, my creative spirit got bored and wandered off, which means I didn't even remember to get a picture. So you'll have to take my word for it (unless you visit) that the terrace is very like a lot of the newer strip mall architecture of Atlanta, which can't make up its mind what exactly it would like to be, and so tends to make all its patterns out of squares. Those of you who have been to Atlanta might know what I mean. The rest of you... I'm sorry. If you post a complaint, I'll try to get a friend to take a picture for you.
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