Frothy Goodness

I possess mad frothing skills, it seems.  And not the frothy-about-the-mouth rabid fury kind, either.  Nope.  This evening, though the timing for caffeine is less than opportune, I finally got around to trying my Mr. Coffee Espresso Maker: the only Mother's Day present on my request list.  To be fair, I must share the credit with the machine itself -- besides touting the removable drip tray and it's ability to afford me home-brewed espresso drinks (double shot soy latte for me), the box label boasts of the "powerful milk frother." For once, false advertising claims are nowhere to be found; we'll leave that to Skechers and Nutella (as if anyone actually believed that there were miracle shoes that would alter the planes of your buttocks with little effort, or that a rich creamy chocolate-hazelnut spread had any health benefits other than to please the palate and provide quick sugary carbs).  My daughter, the married one (I have to admit, kinda fun to say that), takes great umbrage with these high dollar lawsuits over what she deems stupid and idiotic on the part of the consumers.  My explanation of the legalities and business parameters didn't sway her in the least.  She's one tough practical cookie, that one.  Ooh!  And cookies are great for dipping in coffee!  Not that  . . . I'm saying . . . I'd dip my sweet daughter . . . into a scalding cup of . . . er, coffee . . . 


Thanks to my frothy success (which I shared with my husband) the fatigue of the day has been banished clean away, the cobwebs in my brain swept away, by my first attempt at Espresso Brewing 101.  I'll be good for the next several hours.  But midnight is generally my bedtime hour of choice.  Except when I'm operating on four or five hours of fitful sleep from the previous night.  Still, what's a coffee-craving girl with curious experimentation on the brain to do?  The darned thing has been sitting in its box on the kitchen counter for five days.  It simply wouldn't be right to allow it to remain idle into the weekend.  (I'm thinking that's an unspoken rule in the Gift Receiving 101 course.)  Alas, there is a conspicuous lack of pictures to chronicle my maiden voyage through the narrow channels of grind-brew-and-steam as my nerves kept me on edge.  The process reminds me more of a ceremony than simple coffee making.  Like the Japanese Tea Ceremony.  And I so wanted to get it right.  Without steaming my face off.  The engineers at the Sunbeam Corporation ain't joking when it comes to that innocuous-looking steaming arm; I think one could reasonably cook a salmon fillet beneath it with a bit of practice.  Near the end, overcome with excitement and the fear that I had failed and wasted all that ground coffee, I did grab the arm and burn two fingers.  Only mild first degree burns.  A little souvenir of my journey into specialty coffee ala my own kitchen.


I caught my husband gazing at my new toy after setting it up for me.  When I asked what he was doing, he said he was checking out its profile.  "No," I said with sure knowledge, "No, you're not.  I know what you're thinking.  You're thinking that you can't believe the day has come where your WIFE [who eschewed coffee with a righteous passion until a little over two years ago] needed her very own specialty coffee maker!"  His grin at my blistering insight said it all.  And it is a wonder.  I've gone coffee mad.  Making up for all of that lost time.  Moving quickly up the ranks from simple bold grinds and espresso (I'll never lose my affection for espresso!) to an exploration of alternative coffee brewing with bright and lemony beans from places like Guatemala.  I know about burr grinders and single-bean origin and Chemex versus French Press.  In fact, yesterday I attended a class -- this consisted of the head barista at Just Love Coffee Roasters here in the 'boro standing at a table and walking through the steps of the Chemex brewing process with me and one of my Earth Divas, Gayla, while our music leader from Cross Point looked on -- which kicked me up the coffee snob ladder just a tad.  Not only did we learn something quite interesting and new, but we also drank the results of our brewing AND received as a lovely parting participation gift our very own bag of whatever coffee bean our java-loving hearts desired.  Their organic fair-trade bags of roasted goodness are worth their weight in gold.  That's not too over the top now, is it?  Have I plunged over the edge of reason on this topic?


Anyhoo, of that session I do have pics.  And my imbibing of roughly 24 ounces of smooth dark nectar of the Gods had my bladder working overtime the remainder of the afternoon.  Nice, huh?

This is my mom's set-up.

Her ownership of said coffee maker is what led to my desire for ownership.

The Starbucks frothing cup did NOT come with the machine.

My mother is a very good influence when it comes to such things as this.

 Our young java sensei.

 Gayla taking notes on the finer points of Chemex brewing.

She actually owns the apparatus.  

I attended at her behest.

I love it when she behests.

That's what Earth Divas do.

We behest.

 Weights and careful measures make all the difference.

I'm loving the orange scales.

And the two guys chatting on either side of the Chemex in the background.

 I tried to suggest the pretty beehive pots would make a lovely parting gift.

At around $60 a pop, that would be a NO GO!

Timing is also crucial to the process as seen here.

 Here you see the 'blooming' before the actual pour.

This step comes after wetting the extra-thick filter.

The grounds are actually raising.

And expelling gas.

Sounds like someone I know.

 Here comes the brew!

 The first precious ounces of bright and earthy yumminess . . . 

 They roasted a batch of beans while we were there.

Oh, the scents that wafted about the airspace!

Titillating to the nose.

 Pulling back for a look-see at the roaster and roast-master.

 Gayla exercising what she learned.

Wetting the filter.

I still yearn to own that little pot!

 The weigh-in for my bloom: we were instructed to sit between 50-100 grams.

I chose 81. 

 Divisible by 3.  

One of my favorite OCD numbers.

 The weight of the final pot.

I hit it perfectly.

Another favorite number divisible by 3.

And 4+5=9.

9 is also divisible by 3.

Wait.  

Have I mentioned the whole thing about numbers divisible by 3?

And how their numbers add up to other numbers divisible by 3?

And that's how to tell if a large number is divisible by 3?

Have I divided you into sleep yet?

Or simple confusion?

 We also learned the art of Japanese iced coffee.

THAT was a flavor treat.

 Her name is NOT Jason.
Her name is Kim.

But her apron was MIA.

I'd like one of their aprons.

Stuffed inside that little teapot.

 We hope to see future classes in larger numbers.

But we aren't complaining!

Check out those free bags of coffee.

Things of beauty.

I went with the Tanzanian Peaberry.

Gayla's favorite.

Born at the feet of Mt. Kilimanjaro. 

Josiah and his girlfriend simply make a great digital impression.

Had to share.

He's drinking Chemex-brewed coffee in that Starbucks insulated mug.

We had to share that, too.