CoffeePorn

Back in Detroit, and it's more Kona time

You know, I just can't get over how fun this coffee bean is. Today I'm just not feeling all that wordy so perhaps a couple pics will help you see what I'm talking about. I roasted this one about six days ago, right before I left Texas to come home. So it was aging nicely on its cross-country trip and I dug in a few days ago. But here's what I was able to pull out in the past couple days. Folks, these are only pictures, so don't try to lick your screen.

This one here I like mainly because it, well, tasted even better than the gentle little heart that she gave to me. So smooth and rich. Creamy, like dancing butter. Slow dancing butter. I would have her again.

Then of course this little plum below, well the art is not so perfect, but you know what, eat me! If you could have only heard how she poured from the shot glass into the cup, your knees would already have buckled. Such a seductive honey oozing down into her warmed up home. No splattering. No dripping. No trickling. Oozing. Delicately flowing. Slinking. Yes, this coffee slinked into the cup. That's how hot she is.  And yes, the taste of love as she twirled into the foamed milk. Just look at the frikken picture, people!! You can see how smooth the skin is. Just look at it!  You hardly want to drink it.

Damn, I love this bean.

Houston, We've Got Coffee

Well, I'm in Texas. Have been for about a week now. Texas is one of those places in the world that almost everyone knows about. You can go to the jungles of Papua New Guinea and wear a "Don't Mess With Texas" t-shirt, and the naked local will say "Go Cowboys". Or you can be having breakfast in bed with a young lady in Singapore and she'll notice your beltbuckle with a giant star on it and say, "ooh, me love the Big Bend". Or something to that effect.

So I'm here, enjoying family, friends. The heat. Okay, not so much the freaking heat, but I can definitely say I am enjoying the coffee. You say, "Gee Phil, why you gotta bring up coffee every frikken time we talk?" I say, "I need blog material, you dumbass, now put that branding iron down and have a taste."

Of course my fave place to have coffee, and I mean this not just for Texas, but in general, is Catalina Coffee in Houston. I've mentioned it before. If you read this blog I wouldn't have to mention that I've mentioned it, of course. Anywho, so I naturally went there as soon as I made it to Houston. Quite nice. They really know what they're doing there. And they're now roasting their own and serving that, too. I got a beauty of a cappuccino, complete with a double tulip; my aunt got a triple heart. I was so happy to see real art, and taste real art, that I of course forgot to take a picture. I'll be back and I promise to try again.

But last Friday I may have found a new place I'd like to frequent. Again, in Houston, so just slightly out of the way for me when I return home to Detroit later this month, but very very damn freaking good nonetheless. I can't remember the name of this place, oh wait, it's my new buddy Jon's home.

The illustrious Jon, who shall be called JonR, which is his coffeegeek name, a site that he nearly owns with all his ponderous insight and weighty commentary, is the apparent owner of half of metro Houston's coffee equipment and somehow has managed to fit it all in his kitchen. Holy Sumatra In A Bag! We had to take breaks in the tour -- coffee breaks [rimshot] -- before seeing the entire display. Between multiple rounds of espresso, cappuccino and vacuum pot brewings, my mind was buzzing more than my taste buds.

But my god, the taste buds were singing Haleluia too!! JonR has come up with a great Brazil blend that just dances on your tongue. I begged him to keep pouring that one, but he just backhanded me and reminded me that there are only a few hours of daylight and his lovely wife would like to spend some time with him as well. Okay, finnnne!

So then once we had a sweet buzz jackhammering in my skull, JonR decided to unveil his primo homemade roaster system. Where the casual observer would see a somewhat aged gas grill in his garage, was actually a near-state-of-the-art hand crafted fully functional drum roaster, replete with rotisserie turner and temperature probe, three gas burners, and a bitchin' cage so well seasoned that future archeologists might determine it to be a religious artifact of high esteem.

He tossed in some more Brazil and proceeded to journal the entire process, down to the second with adjustments to the burners and ears pressed to the lid listening for those little brown babies screaming as their water burst. Quite literally. A few seconds on the rigged up cooling tower and not 15 minutes had passed for a pound of fresh Brazil. Ready for another lucky friend or family member in about three or four days.

JonR, Thank You!!

Medium Roast, at the Bikini Bar

I never realized you could get a sweet little medium roast at a bikini bar.

What's a bikini bar, you ask? Hmm, well, imagine a place where the patrons can relax in an easy chair or play some pool, while being patiently, and many times lovingly attended to by anywhere from one to several highly attractive and motivated female individuals. Did I mention they were motivated? As in $20 a song motivated? Yeah, that's a bikini bar. I think sometimes they also actually wear the bikinis.

Well, you will find almost anything there. But on this night we found a very lovely little medium roast. Body. Aroma. Mouthfeel. It was all there. Yum.