I am God forsaken. There, I said it, God for-sa-ken. No, no, no not in any serious or REAL way, in truth I consider myself very fortunate. I own a home (with the bank being the primo numero uno shareholder), a car (different bank, same story), and a good paying job. None of these things I take lightly and am very appreciative to have all of them. Let me explain: I wake up every morning at 4 a.m. No alarm needed. Doesn’t matter if I went to bed a 2 a.m., I still wake up at 4. God for-sa-ken.
Now mind you, I am very scintillating a 4 in the morning. How many of you can say that? Well, I am, but neither of my ex-wives nor any of the lovely women I have had great fortune of knowing over the years was . . . scintillating at 4 in the morning that is. Now they are all extremely pleasant, charming women but at 4 a.m. they are either headed to bed, with what is sure to be the mother of all hangovers awaiting them, or so fast asleep that even their dreams are taking a nap. Unless, of course, you consider hairdos at that hour . . . in which case they were ALL scintillating!
So here I am, 4 A.M. alone. What to do? Hmmm, drink coffee! Drink Coffee. Yes, as millions of shift workers have done before me, I’ll drink coffee. Hmmm . . . what to drink? Dad and mum loved Folgers. Nah, can’t do it. Peet’s, I’ll drink Peet’s, and so for years I did just that. In fact I served Peet’s Major Dickason’s blend to my clients when I was catering. It was fabulous! Loved it! Bought it by the 5 pound bag even. Until one day . . .
Not so long ago I was looking for a new culinary challenge. Cooking school for me was a real blast. It was my art school education. To know me, is to know that I am a techno-geek, in a masculine way, kind of guy. I like to learn how to DO things. Culinary school was great for this. I learned classic French cooking techniques along with the science to back it up. I also got the chance to experiment with colors, tastes, textures and aromas. It was cool and that experience lasted me for quite a while. Until one day I happened upon an article about roasting coffee. Sounds like fun. By then I had begun straying from Peet’s and started checking out the local roasters. Their coffees are good. So I searched for, and found, a local company that supplies green coffee beans. I bought from them a book, a Whirley-Pop stove top popcorn popper, 2 pounds of Guatemalan Huehuetenango and away I went: Newbee Roaster.
Wow! What a difference. The first batch I ever roasted tasted like an entirely different beverage. Even better than Peet’s. Smooth, rich, chocolaty . . . breakfast in a mug. Needless to say I have become a coffee snob. Oh well, it’s the cross I bear. Now I can tell you all about the endothermic, ectothermic, endothermic, ectothermic process involved but I have gone on too long already. In closing, I am of the belief that the only true great cup of coffee is found in a French press. Here’s how I do it.
2 tablespoons of medium ground coffee per 8 oz cup (roasted fresh that day is the uber-best)
Water brought to a boil and let sit for 30 seconds (colloidal suspension thing)
Pour grounds into press carafe, fill carafe with hot water, place plunger on top (do not plunge), wait 4 minutes, plunge and serve.
Eat Well and Smile Often,
I’ll take mine with sugar please.