Somehow, most of the events in my life end up being about food. If I visit an old friend, I want to cook them dinner, or they want to take me to a restaurant. If I am invited to the ballet, I immediately wonder where to have diner beforehand. When I go on a trip I always consider taking provisions, and birthday parties and holidays of any kind are inevitably centered around noshing. There is one activity however that I have always figured would have absolutely nothing to do with food and that’s exercise.
Because it stands to reason that during exercise there is little chance of having a culinary encounter - an therefore no chance of coming across material for the blog - I did not think to bring my camera along for Margeaux and my exercise session in the park yesterday. I could not have been more off the mark; as it turns out, along with every other thing in my life, even exercise can be about food.
After a heavy session of step jogging, squats, kicks, and crunches Margeaux and I exited the park straight into the middle of the the Fort Greene Farmer's Market. Having no where else to be, we decided to browse a bit and what do you suppose we stumbled upon but some farm-fresh and glowingly pink rhubarb.
"Three dollars a pound," a handsome fella told us with a smile. Margeaux turned to me, "what does rhubarb taste like?" she asked as though I were the authority on all thing food. "I'm not sure," I told her "I have only ever had it in Pie with Strawberry." The dashing young farmer snapped off two pieces from a stalk and gave it to us to try, not without warning, "its very bitter." We both took a bite and chewed cautiously. It had the stringy consistency of celery, but the puckery flavor lemon. I don't know if it was rosy cheeks of that young farmer boy, or the zesty flavor of the rhubarb, but Margeaux ordered a pound (which is acctualy quit a lot) , what she was do with it, I had no idea.
With our sweaty t-shirts and a satchel of rhubarb we decided that coffee was the next step, but instead got side tracked by a wine tasting at
Thirst Wine Merchants that showcased three distinct Rosés. Margeaux liked the Domaine de la Courtade L'Alycastre, a light peach flecked rosé made from the Grenache and Mourvèdre grapes. Personally I preferred The Domaine deFontsainte Corbieres, a rosé bursting with the scent of ripe strawberries delicately brushed with fresh mint and almond.
With a slight buzz, and loaded down with three bottles, we headed to
Smooch on Carlton for a much needed coffee. While waiting for our cappuccinos the owner (don't remember his name) curiously checked out our wine and rhubarb stash. "Coffee, wine, rhubarb, What more does a woman need?" he said with a frisky grin. " Chocolate," I replied pointedly. He, with out a moments hesitation, as though he had been diligently anticipating my response, ran out the front door and reappeared within moments holding in his hand a bar of Lavender flavored Degoba Chocolate.
I have no idea where he got the chocolate bar, but I must say, it was the perfect way to end a Saturday day workout. Now I ask you, what more does a girl need?
Now imagine my disappointment when I discovered that Giant Robots did not house any Coffee Robots, because they did not in fact stock any Robots at all.
Instead they had novelty items like this plastic, brown, square monster thing eating some weird looking cookies.
Because it stands to reason that during exercise there is little chance of having a culinary encounter - an therefore no chance of coming across material for the blog - I did not think to bring my camera along for Margeaux and my exercise session in the park yesterday. I could not have been more off the mark; as it turns out, along with every other thing in my life, even exercise can be about food.
"Three dollars a pound," a handsome fella told us with a smile. Margeaux turned to me, "what does rhubarb taste like?" she asked as though I were the authority on all thing food. "I'm not sure," I told her "I have only ever had it in Pie with Strawberry." The dashing young farmer snapped off two pieces from a stalk and gave it to us to try, not without warning, "its very bitter." We both took a bite and chewed cautiously. It had the stringy consistency of celery, but the puckery flavor lemon. I don't know if it was rosy cheeks of that young farmer boy, or the zesty flavor of the rhubarb, but Margeaux ordered a pound (which is acctualy quit a lot) , what she was do with it, I had no idea.
I have no idea where he got the chocolate bar, but I must say, it was the perfect way to end a Saturday day workout. Now I ask you, what more does a girl need?
In 1475, Turkish Law made it legal for a woman to divorce her husband if he did not provide her with her daily quota of coffee.
As you can see, the only coffee I had left in my freezer when I awoke was a very old bag of decaf. 'Why oh why have you forsaken me Coffee Robot?' I shouted out with as much theatrical fervor as I could muster before having had my morning dose. Frankly, it was my fault that I was out of coffee; if I were a Turkish husband in the 15th century, I would probably be facing divorce papers. Lucky for me an abundance of coffee was only a few clicks away. 15th Century Turkish husbands were not so lucky as to have access to Empire Coffee via the Internet. On their website they offer an array of services from the purchasing of their wonderfully roasted coffee beans and blends, coffee machines, and loose tease, instruction on how to buy and brew your coffee as well as the Cool and Savvy History of Coffee. Their bean selection is well rounded and the coffee descriptions crack me up. Here are a few of my picks:
Kona French Roast -
Nobody appreciates an artfully brewed cup of Joe as much as me. My morning coffee is not only a ritual but has become an art, beginning with bean selection, the coarseness of the grind, the method of brewing, right down to the temperature of the mug. Whether it’s my morning cup, or an afternoon jolt I don’t just want to guzzle my coffee, I want to relax and take pleasure in the experience. Unfortunately, though there seems to be at least one ‘gourmet’ coffee shop for every city block, it remains close to impossible to get a cup of coffee worth savoring. I can’t tell you the number of times I have spent three dollars on a cappuccino that turns out watery, bitter, or just tastes burnt (just thinking about it makes me angry.)
Amanda explains how to pull the perfect shot as Erin demonstrates the three essential steps, dosing, distributing, and tamping
Here is me dosing the portafilter with freshly ground espresso from the burr grinder Translation : filling the thingamajig with fresh coffee grounds from the kick ass grinder
Amanda explains that water is lazy and will choose the path of least resistance. If we want our espresso to taste good, we want the water to push threw all the grounds evenly. In order for this to happen we must distribute the grinds
After distribution the next step is tamping
Isn't she beautiful?
The grave yard of practice shots, all of them consumed by their creators
I could have easily guzzled this double without even a drop of sugar though of course I didn't(guzzle or go sugarless.) The brunch menu was awesome itself, including Chocolate French Toast (OMG), Pancakes with your choice of Blueberries, Bananas, and or White Chocolate, and savory items such as a fluffy Omelette with apples, leeks, and ricotta.
