My day begins with a double or triple espresso, without which I am not quite 'on my game'. Having spent influential years of my life in Italy, I have been truly indulged with regard to coffee, and have never been able to adjust to American style coffee. In fact, I argue with Eric, insisting that what he drinks is not truly coffee, but he has convinced me that there are many styles of coffee drinking, and mine is very particular.
It Italy, coffee is absolutely wonderful almost everywhere there is an espresso machine. From the stops on the autostrada and in the train stations, to the bars in every town, large and small, there is an incredible ritual repeated thousands of times a day, and out of the magic machine comes a creamy, full bodied, aromatic nectar, that is transformative. I am always looking for that taste and that experience in the morning.
When I was helping Tara move in to her residence in Montreal, we spent the first day there checking out all the 'best' coffee shops in the city. We walked to Little Italy, to Old Montreal, down St. Catherine's, St. Laurent, St Denis, in fact we tried eight or so cappuccinos in one day, still not quite finding the right combination of taste, body, or 'crema'. Only much later, during Tara's second year at McGill, when she was living on St Urbain Street, did we find a little French bakery, with 'cafe au lait', which was quite perfect, especially with delicious buttery croissants. I try to find the place each time I visit, to remind myself not to limit coffee searches to Italian coffee shops.
Parisians have their own way of making coffee. One has to change one's perspective and acknowledge that French coffee is simply a different product, and once I stop looking for my Italian cappuccino or espresso, I usually find an acceptable place for my morning ritual.
Eric and I explored far and wide through Quito for the 'best' coffee. That was difficult too; coffee is grown in Ecuador, but there is no true coffee tradition. Coffee shops have the right machines, and good beans, and baristas learn how to manipulate the machines, but somehow the coffee that emerges is never quite right. I decided that the coffee shop next to our apartment made 'good enough' coffee, so every morning, after Maya caught her bus, Eric and I would have a 'cappuccino' with 'El Comercio' and start our day with enough caffeine to feel energized. One coffee is usually enough; I rarely feel the need for more.
In Baltimore, I have an intimate relationship with every Starbucks in my area, and every barista knows my drink and my fussiness. Starbucks is 'acceptable' coffee; it is not Italian coffee, but it is 'good enough'.
In Woods Hole, there are two coffee shops' Pie in the Sky' where popovers are amazing, and 'Coffee Obsession', which does not quite manage to be 'good enough'. So, when in Woods Hole, I am obliged to ride my bike several miles to Falmouth, to find the local Starbucks for my 'triple espresso macchiato with extra foam'. Maya is not very happy with me when I drag her along the sea for a two hour journey, just for coffee. Today, after we made pancakes with bacon and fruit, and celebrated Father's Day with Eric in the cabin before he returned to the lab to set up experiments, Maya was desperate to go to the beach. Instead, we rode our bikes (and Maya agreed it was not as bad as it had been in the past, she is bigger and stronger now, and the ride is less overwhelming) and I enjoyed my espresso fix. On the way back, we stopped at the beach in Falmouth to look for hermit crabs. Much later, we finally got to Maya's favourite beach. It was too cold to sunbathe or swim (although Maya went in the water anyway).
Eric was in the lab all day, and when he finally finished, it was time to drive to Boston to catch our flight back to Baltimore. We will be doing this trip each weekend while Eric is working in Woods Hole.
It Italy, coffee is absolutely wonderful almost everywhere there is an espresso machine. From the stops on the autostrada and in the train stations, to the bars in every town, large and small, there is an incredible ritual repeated thousands of times a day, and out of the magic machine comes a creamy, full bodied, aromatic nectar, that is transformative. I am always looking for that taste and that experience in the morning.
When I was helping Tara move in to her residence in Montreal, we spent the first day there checking out all the 'best' coffee shops in the city. We walked to Little Italy, to Old Montreal, down St. Catherine's, St. Laurent, St Denis, in fact we tried eight or so cappuccinos in one day, still not quite finding the right combination of taste, body, or 'crema'. Only much later, during Tara's second year at McGill, when she was living on St Urbain Street, did we find a little French bakery, with 'cafe au lait', which was quite perfect, especially with delicious buttery croissants. I try to find the place each time I visit, to remind myself not to limit coffee searches to Italian coffee shops.
Parisians have their own way of making coffee. One has to change one's perspective and acknowledge that French coffee is simply a different product, and once I stop looking for my Italian cappuccino or espresso, I usually find an acceptable place for my morning ritual.
Eric and I explored far and wide through Quito for the 'best' coffee. That was difficult too; coffee is grown in Ecuador, but there is no true coffee tradition. Coffee shops have the right machines, and good beans, and baristas learn how to manipulate the machines, but somehow the coffee that emerges is never quite right. I decided that the coffee shop next to our apartment made 'good enough' coffee, so every morning, after Maya caught her bus, Eric and I would have a 'cappuccino' with 'El Comercio' and start our day with enough caffeine to feel energized. One coffee is usually enough; I rarely feel the need for more.
In Baltimore, I have an intimate relationship with every Starbucks in my area, and every barista knows my drink and my fussiness. Starbucks is 'acceptable' coffee; it is not Italian coffee, but it is 'good enough'.
In Woods Hole, there are two coffee shops' Pie in the Sky' where popovers are amazing, and 'Coffee Obsession', which does not quite manage to be 'good enough'. So, when in Woods Hole, I am obliged to ride my bike several miles to Falmouth, to find the local Starbucks for my 'triple espresso macchiato with extra foam'. Maya is not very happy with me when I drag her along the sea for a two hour journey, just for coffee. Today, after we made pancakes with bacon and fruit, and celebrated Father's Day with Eric in the cabin before he returned to the lab to set up experiments, Maya was desperate to go to the beach. Instead, we rode our bikes (and Maya agreed it was not as bad as it had been in the past, she is bigger and stronger now, and the ride is less overwhelming) and I enjoyed my espresso fix. On the way back, we stopped at the beach in Falmouth to look for hermit crabs. Much later, we finally got to Maya's favourite beach. It was too cold to sunbathe or swim (although Maya went in the water anyway).
Eric was in the lab all day, and when he finally finished, it was time to drive to Boston to catch our flight back to Baltimore. We will be doing this trip each weekend while Eric is working in Woods Hole.
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