Tea and Zen

Hello, blog…my old friend. Hello WORLD! Hello Barack Obama, John McCain and President Sarkozy, as well as all the rest of my regular readers! I’m sitting here drinking oolong tea with ginseng (Blue People) and feeling very “Zen” about the whole morning. I’ve stopped drinking coffee in the morning and only occasionally do I get a cup during the day when I am tired at work. I think it’s better for me. It’s a lovely morning here in Portland, if a bit chilly at a current temperature of 60° Fahrenheit according to The Weather Channel, but they expect a high of 79° F. That will be nice.

There’s no music on in the house and I think I’m the only one here right now. The outside world isn’t being intrusive, either. There are no loud blue-jays squawking, not too many cars, no neighbors mowing their lawns or drug dealers in the street hollering back and forth. Things on my mental to-do list are calling to me: I have a stack of mail (mostly junk) that has accumulated on my desk and in a box for months that needs to be sorted through; I need to find my sleeping bag downstairs and wash or at least air it out, as well as anything else I might need for a little camping on the coast this weekend; my body would probably like it if I did yoga, but it might also be happy to just rest for today–it can’t decide. For now I am ignoring all of these things, tempted even to close the laptop and just sit on the couch in the sun with my eyes closed or read a book. I am writing here because it is meditative to me, and I felt compelled to do so rather than just write in my journal.

Life is good right now. I have new tasks at work and I am getting paid more, I have friends, school starts in a few weeks, the weather is nice and I am healthy. What more could one ask for? As an aside, if any of you are regular coffee drinkers I suggest switching to tea for a while. I don’t get as jumpy and anxious, but maybe coffee just affects me in a stronger way than it does for most. It has an affect on my emotional and mental status, and not just making me more alert. I’ve been surprised that my withdrawals from coffee weren’t that severe–only a slight headache for a day or two. Of course I am still getting caffeine, but it’s different (I think) and not as concentrated. If you try it, make sure you get high-quality loose-leaf tea from someplace that knows what they’re doing. I got mine at a great place in Seattle, but there are definitely locations in Portland and I’m sure the rest of the world, as well. Cheers, to your health and to being more “Zen”.

Long update

I want to change the format of this blog. I have pages at the top with different labels, such as Taste and Tunes, but the problem is that the stuff I put there gets all jumbled together. Maybe it’s my fault, but the organization isn’t very good for allowing viewers to see what is really there. It would be nice if each page would be like the main page and I could have individual posts on it. I realize I could probably start separate blogs for each one and have the tab link to them or something, but that gets even more cluttered, in one sense. Does greater organization also generate more clutter? More folders, files, etc.? Hmm.

I tried making another page and having it be subordinate to an existing page, thinking maybe I could make a new page every time I wanted to post and it would show up under that existing page, somehow. It didn’t work. I dunno if anyone will read this who can help, but if you can please leave a comment or contact me.

For now, I’m going to put my updates in this here blog post. Rhyme or reason? Maybe not. As far as Taste goes, I am about to take a sip of some Kenya Peaberry Ruera Estate that I picked up at Extracto. I think they’re getting all their supply from Barefoot Coffee Roasters these days, but I can’t be sure since this one doesn’t show up on their website. I’ve been using my Aeropress for normal coffee lately, with some really yummy results from Stumptown’s Costa Rica Montes de Oro, so that’s what I’m using this morning. The smell is right on for a yummy cup of some Kenyan coffee, and the taste is close. Not mind-blowingly great, but that might be my technique or choice of extraction method.

For the Flicks, I’ve seen a few things recently. Most recently, I saw “The Bank Job”. Not bad for that type of flick. Interesting that it’s based on a true story. You have to wonder how accurate it is. You should know what you’re getting into when you go to something with Jason Statham in it. It’s not as action-packed as “Transporter” and it’s not “The Italian Job”, either, but it was enjoyable. Not that I’m putting those movies on a pedestal, understand. The night before that I saw “Be Kind Rewind” and felt let-down. Jack Black is all right, and I liked Mos Def as Prefect Ford in “Hitchhiker’s Guide…”, but I was expecting more considering it was directed by Michel Gondry.

I loved “Eternal Sunshine…” and “The Science of Sleep”, but his latest film doesn’t live up to his previous work. It seemed like the story jumped very quickly and unbelievably to get to where it was going in the beginning, so I guess I would say the screenwriting left something to be desired. That and I was watching for Gondry’s tricks using the camera, perspective, props and scenery to create the effect he desires instead of using CG or other special-effects techniques. There were some bits of the absurd and some tricks in the film, but it felt more like someone holding out a hand that contains a description of a magic trick and how it’s accomplished rather than performing the trick and leaving it to the audience’s imagination to figure out how it’s done.

In Tunes, I went to see Silverhawk a few weeks ago. I really enjoyed their live show and would recommend them to anyone who likes good, live, rock ‘n’ roll music. One thing I am disappointed with is their CDs. I bought two after the show and they just aren’t as powerful as the live act. I don’t know if it is just the mixing, something else about the studio atmosphere or what. See them live, then buy the CD. It is good enough to remind me of what the live act was like, and I enjoy some of the songs enough that I’ll keep listening to it at home, but when I saw them live I didn’t feel like any song was just dead. They put on a good show, those Densmore brothers.

On the Reading front, well, I guess that page is pretty up-to-date. I’m still reading “Diary of a Bad Year” by J.M. Coetzee. I’ve been reading too many little things online here and there to mention. I am putting some links to stuff I find interesting on my other blog, though, so check it out.

Good to be back

Ah, Portland. It’s good to be back. I wouldn’t have said that a day or two ago. My homecoming was not the most exciting return ever. I was wearing jeans, flip-flops, a short-sleeve shirt and a light jacket as I walked out of Portland International Airport into the gray, steady drizzle that IS Portland. I’ve been freezing my ass off since. I don’t know if it’s because I spent three months in the desert, avoiding the cold weather of a North North American winter, if I just haven’t dressed properly or what. But the cold temperature and high humidity has been killing me. I thought about moving to Tuscon.

Add in jet-lag and a general feeling of “What the hell do I do now?” and you get the idea. But today the sun was shining. That’s happy moment #1. I had some more good coffee, produced by my own hand and 40 pounds of gleaming stainless steel. (Not the first time since I’ve been back, so I guess there were happy moments yesterday–every time I made coffee and felt the rush of making and consuming it cut through the gloom and doom of GRAY and “liquid sunshine.”) So happy moment #2 of the day. And then I decided to go for a bike ride.

There’s something very comfortable about familiar routines, right? We all know it. We’re creatures of habit. It was nice to experience the familiar sensation of getting ready for a ride. I pulled my bike down from the rack, made sure the tires were pumped up and the chain lubed, wiped her down with a rag to clean off the dust, pulled on my undershirt, tights, warm winter jersey and arm warmers. Thin skull cap to keep in the heat and cover my ears. Warm gloves. Shoe covers. Helmet. Glasses. Money and a jacket in the back pocket, along with my cell phone to call for help. This is nice. #3.

And then I hit the road. I decided to do a loop, longer than I probably should after no riding for months and not much physical activity, but I’m always a glutton for punishment on the bike. It feels good. Natural. Like riding a bike. Something you never forget. And it’s a special bike, at least to me. Smooth. I used to race. Everything just feels right. A little discomfort, but nothing I can’t handle. A ride. Happy Moment Number Four. Ahhh.

Riding through familiar neighborhoods, seeing some of the landmarks of Portland, Mt. St. Helens, Mt. Hood, the Columbia River, the Willamette, the St. Johns bridge, Broadway, downtown. And these people. The familiar wave from certain motorists who recognize cyclists on the streets and accommodate them. The people wearing funky jackets, boots, hair. “Keep Portland Weird” is a popular bumper sticker. There are rugged individualists, hippies, writers, artists, cyclists, coffee geeks, beer geeks, friendly faces. It’s a city where it’s easy to connect with strangers. I’m waiting at a stop sign for the cross traffic to thin out, next to a woman waiting to turn left in her car. One of the cars crossing the intersection has a window rolled down, the female driver looking around, not sure where to go, I think, talking to her passenger loud enough that I can hear but not tell what is being said. She suddenly decides she needs to turn right halfway through the intersection, still talking, looks to her left at me and the cars that are waiting. It’s humorous to watch so I smile. She laughs a little and smiles back. Little human interactions like that happen all the time, and they’re priceless. Happy moments #5,6,7,8…

It’s good to be back.

On pleasure (then it rambles on from there…)

I take great satisfaction in getting things just right. If I’m writing, I really enjoy making a sentence just so or making sure an idea comes across in just such a way. When I make coffee, I strive for perfection every time. I don’t get there that often, but I feel so good when I get a really good shot of espresso. It’s that much better if I get a good shot of espresso AND I’m able to froth the milk just so and get a near-perfect cappuccino. Continuing with the coffee them, it’s the same if I get a really good cup from my french press, vacuum pot or aeropress, nicely balanced, not bitter or underextracted. As silly as it seems, I really get off on getting in the groove if I am playing Gran Turismo. I believe it’s realistic enough that it takes some skill to drive well, and I’ve always considered myself a driver, anyway. I like cars, love to drive, wish I could race for real and test myself. I love it when I’m in good shape and riding my bike is the same way. I have the strength and energy to charge up hills, maintain a high speed for a long time or keep a good pace up a protracted climb.

So there are these things, and I’ve always been into things like this. Maybe it’s just a guy thing. But there are these things that I am (or have been) passionate about: cars, motorcycles, bicycles, coffee, airplanes. And I really enjoy the skills that are required for the craft: driving fast, riding smoothly, racing, winning, making great coffee. I guess I’m a person who gets a lot of satisfaction from tactile sensations.

Does this realization mean that I really should devote myself to one of these passions as my profession? Is that where I would be the happiest? There’s really only one option right now when it comes to that: coffee. I’ve given up on being a professional driver. It takes too much money to get into racing and I’m already past the age when you should begin. I never really wanted to be a professional pilot for an airline. I wanted to fly fighter jets, or something like that. Hell, crop-dusting might be cool! And I’m not going to become a professional cyclist.

When I first got the idea of getting into the specialty coffee industry, I was really excited. I’ve always thought I would love to do something I’m really passionate about for work. I’ve done plenty of jobs that are just jobs, and they’re fine. You get money, you do the other stuff you really enjoy doing in your time off. Currently there’s a drive in my head to get a degree and do something with it in the professional world. I want it to be something that I am passionate about, too, but there isn’t anything big on the radar for me that says, “Pick me! Pick me!” I did feel that way about coffee for a little while, though. People that I knew thought it was a great idea because I was already a geek about coffee and knew more about it than all of them.

I always overanalyze. Right now I’m thinking about the limitations to giving up on school and getting into coffee, and wondering if it’s realistic or smart. I do the same thing about almost everything in my life recently. I’ve become much more hesitant to do things. I guess I’m not so young and gung-ho anymore. I think learning I had diabetes and the way I’ve chosen to deal with it has something to do with that. Feeling like I’m getting older and have less options does, too. And I’ve started thinking about when I’m old, my future. That’s weird for me. I never used to worry about health insurance, 401k retirement plans, making enough money, etc. I guess that was before I got “sick”, before I realized I’m in a lot of debt and started feeling more pressure to make something of myself.

I guess that last bit all comes down to the big question: where do I fit? What is my place in this world? There’s so much to think about, to worry over, obsess over. Sometimes I feel like there aren’t as many choices, and in fact maybe there’s only one correct path to lifelong happiness and doing what’s right for me. That makes it very difficult to decide anything. What if it’s the wrong choice? And then there are times I say, bah, it’s all bullshit, and tell myself to just get over it and get a move on! I will try to do that more, because what’s a life if it’s lived in fear?

8.22.07 (updated)

UPDATED:

Er, so what’s going on? I’m moving, I signed up for classes at PSU, the Wilco concert is tonight, I’ve been drinking lots of coffee and . . . I’m having a baby! I’m part of this experimental project at OHSU where they’re going to plant an egg inside of a select group of effeminate men and inject hormones in the hope of bringing out more female qualities and then waiting to see what happens. It’s very exciting!

Okay, I made that last bit up, but the rest is true. I’m moving to a house in NE Portland that has been split in half, upstairs-downstairs. According to some date I found on-line, the house was built in 1905. The upstairs renter has his own entrance and I’ll be sharing the downstairs with this cool guy that reminds me of my old roommate in Utah who was from South Africa, probably just because he looks sort of similar and also takes sleeping pills.

The place – I don’t know what to call it (an apartment? house? flat?) – has hardwood floors, high ceilings and tile in the kitchen. One of the best things about it is the kitchen. It has plenty of space to work in which is a delight coming from the space I’m used to. The bedroom I’m moving into is supposed 15’ x 17’. Whatever the dimensions, it’s big. Two closets, hardwood floors, high ceilings; I think it’s painted blue. I’m excited about it. I’ll be near more funky places to eat out and a couple of good grocery stores (funny the things that are important to you when you’re older, trying to be healthy and only have a bike for transportation).

In registering for classes at Portland State, I signed up for the first Honors Program course, Studies in Western Culture, as well as Principles of Economics (Micro) and Intro Philosophy. I would really like to get into the creative writing class, but it’s full. I’ll have to try and sign up for it earlier next term. If all goes well, I will continue taking courses in the Honors Program for my general studies and get into that writing class next term. I’d also like to explore political science and psychology a little more (I took courses at USU), and I’m seriously thinking about getting into science, maybe physics or chemistry. I worry that my skills in mathematics are so rusty that I would have to take some classes over before I could really get the sciences. I guess time will tell.

Portland has been nice. I’ve been out a few times with friends: Kennedy School (McMenamins), the Horse Brass Pub, saw the awesome Red Bull Illume exhibit, did the Bridge Pedal (maybe the most dangerous ride I’ve ever done) and more. Each event deserves it’s own entry in my quasi-journal/blog, but honestly, who has the time? If only I could do and write all the time instead of having to work and perform other administrative life tasks like laundry and dishes. Blech! Seriously, who needs it?

Before I started writing this, I went to get a cappuccino at Stumptown where the line was long, so I ended up going over to Half & Half. I haven’t been there in a while. The first few times I went, it seemed like a charming little independent coffee shop that had a Synesso, and the coffee I had then was good, too. But I’ve had a couple less than stellar experiences and today was the same. I don’t know if it’s the coffee they’re using or just their preparation of it, but something is off. My taste buds found it disagreeable, anyway. Sort of tasted like the Courier Coffee guy has a unique blend that could be really good, but something wasn’t quite right.

Well, I’m running out of little tidbits. There’s more I could say about how I’m doing, my emotional state, my beliefs; but maybe this isn’t the place or the time. That will be another post, another time.

* * *

The Wilco concert was excellent. It’s the first time I’ve seen them and I really enjoyed it. Missed the opening act thanks to my continuing habit of forgetting tickets, but we made it back to the apartment for the tickets, decided to take a break and have a nip of Scotch (Chris) and a beer (me). No worries, made it back in plenty o’ time for Jeff Tweedy & Co. They played a good mix of stuff of the newest album, Sky Blue Sky, as well as songs from Yankee Hotel Foxtrot and A Ghost is Born, plus some that I hadn’t heard that could either be from older albums or something unreleased. Dunno. They played for a full two hours including three encores.

Mr. Tweedy had a couple of funny comments including a story about getting busted while out hiking in the area and using his Crackberry. Seems he was accused of not being able to really get away. He also asked the audience about halfway through the show if they weren’t high enough yet, and said it had to be the highest audience ever. It’s true, there was a lot of weed going around.

I’m going to try to keep this blog from becoming my personal journal. I’ve got another place for that, so I’ll try to stick to stuff that is more interesting and less blather.

On a roll

Fucking incredible. That’s the only way to describe how I feel right now. There’s just so much. I love Portland. I love coffee. Stumptown is an incredible place. It all makes my heart swell when I let go of the usual restraints we each place on ourselves and just experience life. So much so that I had to come and write it down right away.

I nearly cried on the bus because of it. I might still. I’m missing the dogs, but it’s okay. I just saw this guy on the bus with his seeing-eye dog, and it made me think of the monkeys. That and the awesome mix of people on the bus, the diversity, although I realize it’s still a fairly white town and the diversity I notice is mainly among freaks and geeks.

The event at Stumptown was cool. I’m glad I had some company in the form of Christian and his boyfriend/lover, but I stayed for a while after they left and just watched the scene, drank my beer and read a magazine. And I was okay with that. I’m feeling more okay with just being myself, letting it be, not having to be a rockstar all the time or being uber-responsible and smart, but keeping things in check and not going nuts or getting upset at myself for my flaws.

Back to Stumptown: I got there a little after the event began at 6:30, but not much was happening yet. There were a bunch of French presses steeping with coffee to put in airpots and one of the baristas was dialing in the single origin Honduras coffee on the Mistral. Eventually, Christian showed up and we got some coffee. I had a taste of each of the micro-lots they had in the airpots and had a couple of shots of the Lot #3 coffee from this farm, Finca El Puente. (They say, “Espresso shots of Honduras Micro Lot [Matilde] have flavors of sage, evergreen, lemon zest, caramel and pumpkin pie.” They roasted this batch specifically for espresso as opposed to the normal roast they sell in their cafes.) The shots were in-fucking-credible. I wish I could do this at home or work at Stumptown.

So I had some coffee, and then I got a glass of Delirium Tremens on tap in a nice glass with pink elephants on the side. Yum! Later, after the short presentation by one of the guys from Stumptown familiar with the farm and the husband and wife that run the farm, I had some more coffee and then got a bottle (in a glass) of Aventinus. Yum x2! One of my favorite beers in a cool place, watching people and browsing Dwell magazine. How can life get better than this?

Oh yeah, I’m rocking out to Wilco on the bus ride home (still am). I’m going to be in the Honors program at PSU. I’m going to see Spoon next month and will probably get the wristband for Music Fest NW so I can see a show every night for four nights. Suddenly, I’m a social animal. Okay, not quite! But this is an incredible place and I’m doing what I can to take advantage of it.

Crisis

It’s very telling about someone’s personality to see how they react when put under stress. Faced with an imminent family reunion where I would be away from home for several days at a semi-secluded lake resort, it was time to make a choice. I could either suffer through cups of regular brewed coffee, perhaps as bad as Folgers or maybe only the slightly less reprehensible Charbucks, or I could take a stand. No, I will not drink that. Not even with sugar and cream. A cat in a hat would die from that crap, and I would prefer to keep my life, clean.

I went to REI and bought a coffee grinder designed for campers. It’s pretty nifty, if a bit slow. Only time will tell how well it performs, but I’ve tried it out a couple of times and it seems to do okay. I’d never want to grind more than enough for one cup at a time, though. I’m packing it along with my Aeropress coffee maker and some Rwanda Karaba from the Stumptown.

Now I’ll have my own source of good coffee (provided I don’t mess up the brew) and my own little routine in the morning. You might consider it the ultimate coffee snobbery. I know one thing for sure, I’m not sharing with anyone. They can swill all of the mediocre, low-quality coffee they want, gallons and gallons, but I’ll be happy with just one good cup in the morning. Okay, maybe a little bit more than that, depending on how tired my arm gets from cranking the fucking grinder!

Immersed in coffee

Not literally. I would probably get badly burned. Kinda’ like the McDonald’s incident with hot coffee, only much worse. Hmmm . . . . Perhaps that’s an untapped opportunity! The place with lovely golden arches was sued and put a multi-lingual disclaimer on their coffee cups, but I think the person that sued them got some $ first. Coffee roasters don’t put a warning on the bag advising against taking baths in hot coffee, do they! Okay, ridiculous, and something I would never do (I’m not the litigious type), but funny, no?

The immersion I’m referring to is the amount of black gold I’ve consumed in the past 48 hours and the experience. Not that it compares to what some other coffee geeks drink. I made a trip to Mike’s house in Vancouver, WA on Saturday afternoon with my espresso machine (Anita) in tow. The reason for our jaunt was that he had a borrowed Scace thermofilter, I’m a relatively inexperienced home barista and not sure of my flushing technique, even with Eric’s adaptor mounted to my e61. (If you’re completely lost by all this, don’t worry, it won’t get any better for this post. But I promise that all of my posts will not be pure coffee-geekery, and there will be interesting things to view in the future and sometimes past. — ? — Whatever . . . .)

A brief history: I had emailed Mike because I saw in a thread on Home-Barista.com that he now has the same thermometer adaptor (made by Eric) mounted in his Bricoletta that I have in Anita; I met Mike once before during a POETS meetup at the Albina Press; I emailed him, a discussion ensued, and he invited Anita and I to his house. I drove up with my girl in the back seat and Michelle in the front, but only because it’s her truck.

So we got set up, learned that my Italian girlfriend is finicky and doesn’t seem consistent with her temperature profile, adjusted my boiler pressure to it’s maximum setting and had some excellent coffee. Mike pulled a cafe crema with some Ethiopia Misty Valley Idido that was really nice and as good as or better than the same coffee brewed in a French press or Aeropress. A little bit later, he pulled a shot of his “Winter Solstice” blend that was pretty good, and then he pulled a shot of some Black Cat that was vacuum-packed in the freezer. It was the first time I’d had that coffee, and I understand a lot of what people say about it in online forums now. Powerful.

After leaving the house of our gracious host, we stopped by the house of some friends in North Portland and had a few beers and some very yummy food. Anita was still in the car, unfortunately. I was jonesing to play around using what little I had learned during the day. It had to wait until the next morning when I loaded some Rwanda Musasa from Stumptown in my grinder and starting pulling shots.

I tried to emulate Mike by making a couple of cafe crema americanos for Michelle and I. They turned out all right, but I’m not sure if it’s the best I could do. They seemed very bright — almost sour. Then I adjusted the grind and started pulling straight shots of espresso. The temp was high and the crema was flowing. All of the shots were still very bright. I don’t know if that’s just how it’s going to be, I’m doing something wrong, the coffee was too fresh or if it’s just not meant for espresso, at least for me.

So that was this morning, and then we went to the Stumptown Annex for the 3 ‘o’ clock cupping. They had six Kenyan coffees lined up: Karimkui, Kaiguri, Mirundi, Marua, Gaaki (flats) and Gaaki Peaberry. It was only the second cupping I’ve ever done, so I’m still trying to develop my palate and learn differences in coffees. The last time, the coffees were more varied rather than being from just one area. I also felt like maybe all of the shots from the morning had affected my tastebuds. In short, I felt like I didn’t taste as much as I should have. I need to cup more often.

Now I have a 1/2-pound each of Rwanda Musasa and Hair Bender resting a few days before I pull any shots. I also picked up some of Batdorf & Bronson’s Dancing Goats blend at a local market so I would have something ready to pull and not so fresh. It’s a great time for me, and I hope I can learn more and more as I go.