Winning at Home Cold Brew Coffee-ing

Today, I woke up winning.

I made my cold brew for today yesterday so I wouldn't have to make any coffee on my day off.  And this particular batch of cold brew was de-licious.

One of the newest coffees we have at work is Boston Stoker's Juan Carlos Organic from Honduras, and I am in love with it.  Its notes of orange, blueberry and brown sugar create a smooth and sweet citrus crispness.  Its complexity makes me want to sing Katy Perry's "Firework" and shove a sample at every person who looks even remotely interested in coffee so we can love on it together.  I've been excited to try this one as a cold brew, especially now that I think I have perfected my home cold brew method.

After my last post, my husband bought me flowers

I think he likes me.

AND I discovered an important tidbit about my homemade cold brew.  I made another batch of Dark Matter's Unicorn Blood and let it chill for an hour or so before drinking it.  It was so much better than the last time when I added ice to the room temperature brew.  It brought out so much more of the coffee's sweetness that I had missed in my other brew methods.  Maybe this is a "duh" for most people, but whatever, sometimes I'm impatient and I don't want to wait for my coffee, especially after already waiting 12 hours.  In any case, now I know to plan my cold brewing better.

So yesterday when I got up before 4 am to get ready for work after about three hours of fitful sleep (during which I dreamed solely of coffee), I started a batch of cold brew with this new, magical Honduran coffee.  The beans were ground the day before (I don't think my husband or our neighbors would appreciate me grinding coffee at that unholy hour of the morning) so all I had to do was measure out the grounds with the appropriate amount of water into my handy-dandy cold-brewer (which is actually an old Budweiser beer pitcher that we have laying around--don't judge me; it works really well).

Around 5 or 6 pm, after the cold brew had been sitting for 13 or 14 hours and I had worked a full shift of barista-ing, taken a long nap, and had my own throwback 'N Sync jam-fest on my search for food, I went ahead and strained the coffee, and put it in a pitcher with a lid in the refrigerator.  It was waiting for me this morning when I needed it, and I tell you what, it was as magical as I hoped it would be.

The first sip danced and rolled around my tongue in a taste sensation.  Even after I swallowed it, I continued to taste the different layers of goodness that lingered.  In a coffee professional's terms, it was like a crisp, bright orange with a sweet blueberry syrup body and a brown sugar finish.  In my own personal terms, it was like a beautiful, sunny day at the beach, full of love and tacos, crashing waves and salty breezes.

Perfection.

All around, it was a win.  If you would like to be a winner too, check out my cold brew recipe below and make it your own!  Let me know how it goes, and hit me up with any questions, comments, or suggestions.  I don't know if you know this about me, but I love talking about coffee.

Happy brewing!

Easy Magically Delicious Homemade Cold Brew Coffee
*Note:  it looks more complicated than it is because I like to be thorough.  #sorrynotsorry

What you will need:

• 1 cup of your choice of coffee beans
• a coffee grinder
  (*Note:   If you don't have one at home, don't worry. You can usually take your beans to your local grocery store or non-pretentious coffee shop or wherever you bought them and ask nicely for them to grind your coffee for you on a coarse grind, like for a French Press.  I do this all the time at work for people who bought their coffee beans elsewhere, and it is not a problem at all.)
• 3 cups filtered room temperature water
  (*Note: The water doesn't have to be filtered, but it definitely helps, especially if your city's water is as terrible as mine is. The room temperature thing is vital though, because if the water is too hot or too cold, it can cause the coffee to taste bitter or harsh.  I just keep a gallon jug of drinking water handy on the counter so it's there at the right temperature when I need it.)
• a pitcher or container of some sort large enough to hold at least 6 cups  (*Note:  A glass container like a mason jar might be better than a plastic one taste-wise, but I use what I have available, which is an old, plastic beer pitcher.  I also recommend something with a spout so that you don't end up with a splashy coffee-ground mess when filtering the coffee.)
• a lid or something to cover the above container (I use plastic wrap and a rubber band)
• a spatula or wooden spoon or something to stir with
• a kitchen strainer and/or some cheesecloth or nut milk bag
• (*Note:  I just use a standard metal kitchen strainer because I don't mind a few stray grounds in my coffee--I consider it a bonus!  If that bothers you, I suggest using cheesecloth or a nut milk bag to help catch the smaller ground particles.)
• a pitcher or container with a lid to store the coffee in the refrigerator (I got a cheap quart-sized Rubbermaid pitcher for 3 bucks at Meijer.)

What you will need to do:

1.  Grind 1 cup of your choice of coffee beans on a coarse grind and dump the coffee grounds into your container of choice.
2.  Add 3 cups of room temperature water and stir for about 10-30 seconds.
3.  Cover the container and let the concoction sit at room temperature for about 12 hours.
(*Note:  Keep your sitting cold brew away from excessive light or heat--like windows and stoves.  ALSO, 12 hours is relative. I let mine sit for 12-14 hours, depending on what I have going on. I wouldn't let it sit much longer than 14, though, or you will end up with more of a concentrate.  However, if a concentrate is what you're going for, I recommend letting it sit for 24 hours.  I haven't experimented with concentrates yet, though, so I don't have much advice on the subject beyond that. . .)
4.  After 12ish hours, remove the lid and give the coffee a little stir to loosen the coffee grounds.
5.  Set your strainer (and/or cheesecloth/nut milk bag) over the opening of the pitcher or container you plan to store your coffee in.
6.  Slowly pour the coffee through the strainer into the pitcher.
(*Note:  If you can manage it, it helps sometimes to use your spoon/spatula to hold back the coffee grounds and let more liquid come through so your strainer doesn't get overloaded with grounds and your counter doesn't get covered in coffee splatter.)
7.  Put the lid on the pitcher and let sit in the refrigerator for at least an hour.
8.  Enjoy within 3 days for best flavor (will technically last a week or so).

Yields:  about 16 oz (2 cups) of magically delicious cold brewed coffee.
*You can easily make more, just make sure you keep your coffee to water ratio at 1:3 and have a big enough container to hold the coffee and the water with at least about an inch of room at the top so the coffee can breathe.  Otherwise, it will overflow like a volcano.

In Lieu of Flowers

"Some husbands buy their wives flowers," mine said when he came home from work one day carrying a brown paper bag, "but I got you this."

I excitedly opened the bag, wondering what kind of funky, rare beer he found for me that day.  He does that sometimes.  For the first birthday I had while we were dating, he bought me a beautiful bouquet of flowers and a growler (a 64 ounce jug) of a delicious beer.  I knew he was a keeper.  Over the years, he has alternated surprising me with flowers and unique beers that I would like.  He knows me so well.

 As I opened the bag, I could tell right away that it was a Three Floyds (an extremely popular brewery out of Indiana that our grocery store only gets small, rare shipments of.  They are so popular that their followers can practically smell the shipments as they arrive so these beers rarely sit on the shelves for long.).  He told me to ignore the picture on the label (rightly so, because it was a disturbing image of people's brains exploding. . .but the funky, creative artwork is fitting for Three Floyds' funky, creative concoctions) and just read the name and description.  I saw the words "Coffee Stout" and I hugged him, because beer and coffee are two of my favorite things, and if you put them together for me, I will hug you.

I've had many coffee beers in my day, but my first was still my favorite:  Schlafly's Coffee Stout.  Schlafly is a small brewery in St. Louis with a small, local, family-feel that I fell in love with when I visited a few years ago.  Their Coffee Stout is brewed with coffee from Kaldi's, a small St. Louis roaster.  The French roasted coffee brewed with the rich, dark stout was the perfect, magical blend of coffee and beer, my first experience of two of my favorite things in one bottle:  liquid happiness.

Since then, I have tasted many coffee beers.  Most of them have been good, but none have tasted quite like that Schlafly Coffee Stout (*side-note* this goes for pumpkin beers, as well.  I have tried a lot of pumpkin beers, but Schlafly's Pumpkin Ale is the BEST bottled pumpkin beer I have ever had.  It is the perfect blend of sweet and spicy, pumpkin and ale.  Nom.).  A lot of coffee beers are unbalanced and sloppy tasting, with either the coffee or the beer overpowering the drink, but Schlafly provides a great balance.  It is the standard to which I hold all coffee beers, and this Three Floyds Wig Splitter was no exception.

The description on the bottle stated that this is "an oatmeal stout brewed with freshly ground espresso for those of us who like a little beer with their coffee or a little bit of coffee with their beer."  Grammatical inconsistency aside (the sentence shifts from first person to third person--"those of us who like... their coffee"--don't get me started on the frustrating rise of grammatical laziness in professional business writing! Or do get me started and hire me to be your editor.), this descriptor set a high bar that most coffee beers don't reach.  It boldly proclaimed that it would be adequately balanced between coffee and beer.  And you know what?  It was.

This brew was deliciously balanced so that the flavors of coffee and beer worked seamlessly to create something beautiful. The espresso that Three Floyds used actually brightened the stout and gave the brew a delicately crisp acidity that danced on my tongue in a way that forces me to rank this coffee stout up there with Schlafly's. Because Schlafly uses a dark, French roast coffee to deepen the richness of the stout, where Three Floyds uses an espresso to brighten it, I declare them equal, but different.

After making my assessment of this beer, I was determined to try the espresso that was used in the brewing.  A little detective work by my husband revealed the winner as Unicorn Blood, an espresso blend by Dark Matter Coffee out of Chicago.  I promptly ordered myself a bag and spent my time waiting for my freshly roasted beans to arrive in the mail by acquainting myself with the coffee company via their website.

Like Three Floyds, Dark Matter Coffee is known for creating funky, unique blends.  They are committed to great coffee, but they are also committed to creativity, instead of the typical stoic, black-and-white approach that many seriously scientific coffee companies take these days. The fact that their espresso blend is called Unicorn Blood, for example, is simply awesome.  In the Harry Potter world, unicorn blood is known for its magic healing properties, that it can save a person who drinks it even if they are a breath away from death.  Isn't that how we all feel about our morning coffee?!

And come on, check out this bag:

IT'S A UNICORN PRANCING IN A PORTAFILTER.

I wasn't able to try this coffee as espresso, but I tried it both hot and cold brewed.  I expected it to be sweeter than it was (maybe because of the sweet, happy face of this unicorn prancing around in a portafilter), but it was nutty and fun, kind of like this whole absurd experiment.

In any case, I enjoyed tasting these creative coffee concoctions.  And if you learned nothing else from this post, let it be a lesson as the adult version of the children's book If You Give a Mouse a Cookie:

If you give your wife a coffee beer...she'll spend a week analyzing it and the coffee used to brew it so she can write a long, rambly blog post about it, complete with pictures.

Thank you, and you're welcome.

At the Heart of It All

Whenever we turn on the news these days, someone else has died a violent death.  Or dozens have.  Or hundreds.  It's sickening, confusing, and frightening.  We don't know how to process it.  We often turn to social media where commentaries and arguments have sprung up pointing the finger at others in blame and isolating the problem to one issue, race, religion or another.

But isn't that part of the problem?  Isn't it a problem that we are so ready to jump to conclusions and harsh judgments and stereotypes of our fellow man?  That we are determined to see the worst in one another, and to take sides against one another?

It's easy to be discouraged as these horrific events continue to unfold around the world, across the ocean, in our own neighborhoods.  It's a natural reaction to want to lay blame somewhere.  We want to see someone come to justice.  But there isn't any one person at fault here.  We are all part of the problem.

As a society, we have become selfish, rude, demanding, quick to anger, quick to judge, quick to blame others for our own mistakes.  We are a culture of waste, and we have begun to see one another as disposable.  We don't see each other as human beings.  We see the car in front of us driving like an idiot and it fills us with road rage.  We see our service workers as robots or low-lifes and treat them like crap.  We see the woman with the screaming child in the grocery store and judge her for obviously being a terrible parent.

We don't take the time to put ourselves in another's shoes, to recognize the difficulties that the people around us are facing, to see ourselves in one another.

We are all part of the problem, because we are all human. Rather than be discouraged by that, though, we should take heart in it.  Since we are all part of the problem, we can all be part of the solution.  We are all in this together.

We can stop pointing fingers, stop labeling the symptoms of the problem (racism, terrorism, homophobia) and acknowledge the root of all the problems:  our lack of respect for the dignity and equal value of each and every human life.

We can start overlooking the small annoyances and frustrations we feel from other people in our daily lives.  We can treat each other with kindness and patience, whether or not we receive the same treatment back.  We can attempt to understand the differences of others, rather than fear or hate them.

This isn't easy to do, by any means, but if we all stop making hateful, angry commentary on the tragedy and start feeling it in our hearts, we can work together to slowly but surely bring about peace.

I recognized yesterday my part in the problem when I received some news about an old, loyal friend. I learned that she is joining forces with someone that I believed we both couldn't stand.  When I thought of all those years I had to stand between them and fight them off one another, I was shocked that now they would be uniting as a team. I don't know the details of the situation, but my initial reaction was to feel betrayed and hurt that my friend would consort with the "enemy" in this way.

When I felt the word enemy rise up in my heart, I remembered the horrible, hateful killings of recent days.  Is this person really an enemy?  This is a person who we had perpetual misunderstandings with, but who never meant us any real harm.  We chose to hold on to angry, bitter grudges and refused to ever see this person as a person, but rather as an obstacle to our freedom.  But the real obstacle was in our hearts, a wall we had built ourselves to keep this person out, to side against this common enemy.

I want so much to stay angry, bitter, hateful even, toward this person, but I know that if I see someone like this person as an enemy, I am part of the problem.  If I can't forgive and let go of petty grudges and the annoyances that this person's differences have caused me over the years, how can we let go of hate in our world?

I remember my loyal friend's constant example of a pure love for Jesus, of her ability to love easily, even to the point of folly.  And maybe she has found a way in her heart to forgive this person, to love this person despite their differences, so that they can work together in peace.

That is peacemaking, friends.  That is the solution.  Letting go of grudges.  Choosing love, kindness, generosity in the littlest things of every day.  Smiling while going through the motions.  Responding to rudeness with kindness and patience.  Truly desiring what is best for other people, desiring their success, their well-being--whether or not we like them.  Forgiving others so that the walls in our hearts can be destroyed by love, so that all we have in our hearts is love.

In a few days, we will likely have forgotten about these tragedies, or moved on to mourning the next ones.  But let's please, please, please never forget that we belong to one another.  That all us humans are in this together.  

Please.

The Fear

These days have been bored and restless.  The silhouette of the next thing is on the horizon, creeping closer.  It's not close enough yet that we can make it out, but it's coming.

The waiting leaves me restless, itching for something substantial to hold onto, wasting my summer watching Netflix because it's easier to get caught up in a silly TV show about beautiful people and their fake lives than to get caught up in my own.

Fear keeps me from opening up my heart to fully love and live right where I am.  I fear that there is something more that I should be doing.  I fear what that might be.  I fear, perhaps most of all, that it will keep us here.  I fear stepping out of the comfortable (even if the comfortable is slightly miserable).

Recently I re-read Kisses from Katie, the story of an ordinary young woman who stepped out of the comfortable to follow God's will for her life and is accomplishing truly amazing things in Uganda.  (I read it a few years ago, and wrote about my thoughts on it here.)  I am a different person than I was three years ago when I first read it, but I was no less convicted.  If anything, this time when I read it, my perspective was less sentimental and more realistic.  I saw how ordinary and imperfect Katie is, how all she accomplished was simply a result of her openness to God and letting Him work through her to reach other people.  I want to be that open, that trusting.

The funny thing is that I think I would be willing to drop everything and follow Him, but I can't for the life of me figure out where He wants me to go.  Which is why I have the sinking feeling that perhaps, at least for awhile longer, He wants me to stay right where I am.  Which scares me more than a disease-ridden Third World country.  The fear paralyzes me so that all I can do is click "Watch Next Episode" on Netflix.

Praise the Lord for the priest at Mass this past week.  He reinforced the message I received reading Katie's story by encouraging us to make Christ the center of our lives and let God interrupt our plans.  He reminded us that in our dark world, we the Christ-followers must be the light--of love, patience, peace. When he led us in song at the end of his homily, I felt the Spirit moving in me.

My heart knew the answers I was looking for:  that the restlessness comes from not being present in the moment.  Yes, maybe God wants me to go on and do great things, but how can I trust in the big things if I can't trust in the little things?

A big lesson Katie learned in Uganda faced with seemingly unending poverty, hunger, and sickness was that all she could do was help the one in front of her, and trust that God would take care of the rest until she or someone else came to help them too.  Her actions created a ripple effect that inspired many more people to reach out and help those in need in Uganda.  God is using her as a voice to cry out in the wilderness, to open the eyes of the body of Christ to the need, to call those of us who make up Christ's hands and feet to action.  All she did was help the person in front of her.

I can do that at work.  I can keep my focus on the customer in front of me and patiently serve them to the best of my ability without being overwhelmed by the long line of caffeine-hungry people behind them.  I can be positive at work and let the little annoyances go (even if in the last five minutes of a long shift I have to deal with a difficult customer who continues to test my patience and ask a lot more of me than I have the energy to give).  I can listen to people even when I have less than zero interest in what they are saying--sometimes people just need to talk.  I can bite my tongue against complaints and decisions I disagree with.  I can love one person at a time.  I can be a light.

Over the years, this blog has carried this theme, of how to love God while being a barista.  You would think that the message would have sunk in by now, but I tend to need constant reminders.

When I stepped down from management nine months ago, I experienced great relief and necessary detox from the stress of the previous two and a half years.  I rediscovered my love for both coffee and people, but eventually, when the people became too difficult to handle, I turned my focus to the coffee.  However, I found that if I wanted to pursue coffee as a career and succeed, it would have to become in some ways a god.  But I already have a God, and I love Him.  A lot.

I never imagined that I would still be here after so long, that I would still need these reminders, but here I am.  Imperfect.  Afraid.  I let the fear in, and it began to consume me, but by His grace I have been saved once again from myself.

Maybe God wants me to go out into the world and do great things, but I will never have the strength if I haven't fully abandoned myself to Him, if I don't fully trust Him in everything.  I will never be able to follow Him along great distances in the future if I can't follow Him right now.

Here I am, Lord.

Coffee Talk

"Coffee coffee coffee..."  

This slightly manic phrase is one my husband hears often--sometimes in the early morning while I fix myself a cup (okay, half of a pot) so that I can transform from "half-asleep zombie" to "functioning human being," but really at any time of day when I nerd out with Barista Magazine or crush on a coffee shop in another city via social media (have you seen this La Marzocco showroom in Seattle???), or salivate over a new offering from a favorite roaster.

What can I say?  I want to taste all the coffees.

Coffee is my friend.  It doesn't always get along well with my stomach, but my taste buds, my head, my heart, and my soul all welcome it with gladness and joy.  

For that reason, when I was new to specialty coffee, I was personally offended when my favorite coffees would go away for long periods of time.  Why would they leave me like that?!  You may have had a similar reaction when your favorite coffee suddenly disappeared from the offerings at your favorite coffee shop.  Or, maybe you aren't as personally attached to your coffee as I am. . .

Either way, it isn't our fault that our favorite coffees leave.  They leave because coffee is a produce. Like apples.  Each region where coffee is grown has its own harvest season.  Most specialty coffee shops only buy the freshest, in-season beans, so that they can provide us with the freshest, most flavorful cups of coffee possible.

I appreciate that.

What I didn't appreciate when I first entered the specialty coffee world was that when my beloved Ethiopian Yirgacheffe (my first specialty coffee friend--i.e. the first light roasted, single origin coffee I tried, and my first pour over) with the depths of its blueberry smoothness and crisp lemony goodness disappeared and returned after months of separation tasted like a completely different coffee, very floral, more earthy, less smooth or sweet.

While I originally considered this new Yirgacheffe to be a traitorous impostor, I eventually learned that this is simply one of the beautiful things of being a coffee lover.  There are so many factors that influence what a coffee will taste like (even if the processing and roasting remain completely constant, a little extra rain or a little extra sun during growing season can change everything), that the same coffee rarely (if ever) tastes exactly the same as it did last year.  It's sad that we can't keep our most favorite coffee-friends around us all the time, but it's exciting and downright fascinating to try new coffees, and taste the differences in various harvests of our favorites.

That said, it's always interesting comparing coffees from different regions too.  Each coffee-growing region has a specific characteristic that tends to define it.  African coffees, for instance, tend to be fruity and funky.  Coffees from near Indonesia tend to have more body and earthy tones.  Crisp acidity and light chocolate notes are common among Central/South American coffees.  (There's A LOT more to this, and I won't keep going on about it here, but if you are interested in learning more, a really fun book to introduce you to specialty coffee is Coffee Nerd, by Ruth Brown.  I got a kick out of it and learned some things too!)

Typically, coffees from Africa, Kenya specifically, are hit or miss with me.  I appreciate their funky flavor, but the lack of acidity makes it fall flat for me.  On the other hand, I enjoy the acidity of Central/South American coffees, but they tend to be too boring.  So when I learned that Counter Culture had a special limited release coffee that married the two--a Kenyan varietal grown in the rich soil of El Salvador--I really nerded out.  

There is so much to learn about coffee, and while I understand pretty well the differences by region and climate, I am still working on discerning the differences between varietals.  Obviously, I had to get this coffee. . .you know, for educational purposes. . .

Counter Culture Coffee's Finca Kilimanjaro is said to have "deep, sweet notes of clementine and tropical fruits with a syrupy sweet finish."  I didn't have an opportunity to cup this coffee, so I'm going off of the pour over version.  To be honest, I expected much more sweetness than I tasted.  It definitely has the same syrupy sweetness and thick mouth-feel as other coffees I've tried from El Salvador have.  But the fruity notes are almost so deep that all I taste is the earthiness.  Whatever the case, its deliciousness and incredible quality reminded me of a Geisha that I tried years ago.

The deliciousness that is Counter Culture's Finca Kilimanjaro.

What I learned the most from tasting it, though, is that I have not paid nearly enough attention to all the coffees I have tried over the years.  I typically gloss over what variety the coffee is, and look just at the country and/or farm of origin.  My approach to new coffees will now never be the same.

I thoroughly enjoyed reading about this coffee on Counter Culture's website to get a better understanding of where the coffee came from, how it was grown and processed, the mindset of the farmer, the reactions of the buyers when they tasted it.  It's one of the great joys of working in coffee--stories are always brewing, and not only do we get to be a part of them, we get to taste them.

Which is really great for me, because I want to taste ALL THE COFFEES.

Every Little Thing

It's the little things.

It's the sound of the soft, wet snow on my umbrella and the feeling that I'm in a giant snow globe as I walk home from work after a long day.

It's white flakes falling against the small, red buds on the trees waking slowly from their winter sleep.

It's the feeling of the cold air tinging my nose and cheeks a merry shade of pink.

It's the inspiration that comes with the memory of a good old friend, and doing a good deed out of the love she stamped in my heart--a small fraction of the good she would do if she were here.

It's the freedom from the burden of responsibility that used to weigh me down so that I am now better able to focus on the aspects of my job that bring me joy--the people and the making of the coffee.

It's the sigh of relief that after months of healing and learning, I am better able to let go of the little things that make life frustrating.

It's finally being able to see the big picture, to see all of the positive growth that has come in spite of the many small and annoying changes.

It's being able to embrace my situation and take the small steps necessary to move (slowly) forward.  They are very small steps, little steps, little things, but these are what make the journey interesting, challenging, fun, frustrating, colorful.

These little things are everything.

Happy New Year

The clock strikes midnight, and in the quiet dark the only way of knowing is by the barely perceptible cries of celebration from neighboring houses and the sound of illicit fireworks in the distance.

Happy New Year.  

And yet, the new still feels like the old. The troubles of yesterday did not magically disappear.  We do not all suddenly have superhero powers that will allow us to accomplish what we couldn't last year. 

Midnight has marked the passing of time, and though we view a new year like a blank slate and a chance for a fresh start, we are still who we were five minutes ago.

We will make resolutions and set goals and take steps to move forward, but in the end, life happens.  This is the first New Year we are starting together as husband and wife, and we have big ideas for new adventures.  

It would be nice if we could have flipped a switch and at midnight been where we want to be, but the journey is part of the process.  To get where we need to go, we need to let go of what's been holding us back, and that will take time.  But we'll get there.  Even if we don't get there by 2017, we'll get there.

Every day the clock strikes midnight.  Every day is a fresh start.