From the Thunguri Auction Lot in Kenya

Ah, the signs of spring -- Turbotax, Daylight Saving Time and warmer weather. What better time to jump-start a moribund blog? I've been kicking around some ideas for posts. For example, I am really grooving on the new Kindle for iPhone application. It is amazing to be reading a book on one device then have the phone call the same text up to the page where I left off. And the updated New York Times iPhone app is snappier than the original, which had grown slower and frustrating with new phone firmware updates. Now I can get depressing economic news right in my hand in a matter of seconds.

I also wanted to blog about some ideas I've been having about Twitter, and how to build a useful and effective personal network, but those thoughts haven't gelled yet.

In the end, it all comes back to coffee, without which nothing happens, especially on this blog. Name: Thunguri

Origin: Ndaorini Cooperative, Nyeri District, Kenya, harvested from November to January at 1850-2100 meters above sea level.

Roasted: Feb. 24 by Intelligentsia.

Purchased: March 4 at Café Grumpy, 224 W. 20th St., Manhattan, between Seventh and Eighth Avenues.

Description: The bag declares, "There's nothing like it. WIth citrus fruit, lemongras and tropical fruit notes, this coffee remains one of the most recognizable and inspiring of our offerings." More extensive tasting notes at Intelligentsia elaborate: "Flavor: Jasmine, currant, guava. Acidity: Citrus-like, mellow. Finish: Soft, nougat, dark chocolate." The roaster also promises the coffee can leave one "speechless with wonder."

The Pour: Once again, I'm reminded of wine-tasting metaphors. That's quite a range of flavors, and this coffee certainly defies precision in description. In my quest for the perfect shot, I have not been a big fan of flowery citrus flavors, but I've come to see words like "currant," "mellow," "nougat" and "dark chocolate" as indicators of something special.

The pitch from Intelligentsia's expert, Geoff Watts, suggests the coffee has a broad appeal (and serves a good economic cause): "Its broad-ranging appeal is certain to excite the taste buds of both the adventuresome and casual sipper. This lot was purchased through Kenya’s newly opened 'Second Window,' which extends communication and purchasing privileges directly from the grower to the roaster." (I've noted before that much of coffee marketing is explicitly progressive in its politics. It's not just a beverage. It's a foreign policy.)

Watts gives a detailed description of Kenyan growing conditions and traditions, then explains that a mandatory auction system in Kenya allows roasters to purchase beans in single lots "at prices three to four times higher than the best coffees in other countries."

Because of local corruption, the extra money does not always end up in the pockets of the farmers, making their operations barely sustainable, he writes. This lot was purchased under an official "second window" that allows for direct relationships between growers and buyers. Watts, who is heading back there to meet with farmers this year, says the new system is under fierce debate.

I remember drinking a lot of Kenyan coffee, long before the current culinary coffee movement took off, and enjoying it. At $14 per half-pound, this was an expensive bag of beans, and the exotic-sounding description gave me some trepidation. When I first opened the bag, I was hit full in the face with a rich, delicious aroma.

I made a few shots of espresso, enjoying it while pondering the tax paperwork I had put off longer than usual. There was a hint of fruit, but the shot was mostly smooth, rich and almost sweet. (I do think I still prefer the sweet tooth Yellow Icatu from Ritual that I tried out a couple of weeks back, so perhaps that has become my new benchmark.)

Was I left speechless with wonder? Not really. Was I inspired to start on those other blog posts? Sadly, no.

The weather is too nice, and the taxes still aren't finished. But I have spent a pleasant number of minutes trying to figure out exactly what I'm tasting here. And reading about the tough lives of the Kenyan farmers who got it to my cup puts our economic troubles in perspective too.

Shots of Heliconias From Finca Santuario

So by the time I went back for more of the sweet-tooth yellow icatu, it was sold out, alas. I am tempted to order some directly in bulk from the roaster, Ritual of San Francisco. I may yet, though that would be admitting my quest was at an end, and, of course, given the ephemeral and perishable nature of coffee beans, not to mention existence itself, that is not likely. I could have bought more of the oddly tea-flavored selection from Guatemala, or even the standard Heartbreaker espresso I started all this with, but I'm not ready to repeat myself yet. Onward to the new, this time a direct-trade bean from Colombia. Name: Santuario, Colombia: Heliconias

Origin: Farmer/producer is listed as Camilo Merizalde of Finca Santuario, in the Cauca region.

Roasted: Feb. 17 by Intelligentsia.

Purchased: Feb. 25 at Café Grumpy, 224 W. 20th St., Manhattan, between Seventh and Eighth Avenues.

Description: "Gentle and transparent, this lot shows the delicate nature of the Bourbon varietal. Cherry and apple lend crispness to the acidity while caramel glides in the finish," according to the Grumpy label.

The Pour: Not long after picking up this bag of beans on Wednesday, I learned that my uncle, a retired firefighter, had died in his 80s in the Boston area. He was not a coffee connoisseur, but during his good long life he did appreciate a well-cooked meal, a well-made wine and a good pour of single-malt scotch, so I think he might have understood this obsession. I can see him and my father in my mind's eye, tasting a savory dish or sipping a single malt with some satisfaction on many a Christmas break, which we often spent with my mother's side of the family. That older generation is dying out -- my uncle was one of the last -- and we cousins all have our own families scattered across the country now. Nothing lasts. It's hard to get that through our thick heads when we are caught up in the day to day grind. That's why it is good to just sit down and really focus on one thing for a while, either a point on the wall or a good cup of espresso.

So what about this bean? It's not bad. I do catch the cherry and apple, though flavors like that are always a little disconcerting to me, even now. The finish is smooth, not acidic. I guess that's the caramel notion, or perhaps something else. Intelligentsia's tasting notes differ slightly from the bag, listing a licorice root and milk chocolate flavor, refined acidity and a finish of sweet dried fruit and nuttiness, "almost candy-like in its sweetness." I didn't really pick up on any chocolate, or candy-like sweetness for that matter, but that description of the finish seems accurate. My perception may change as I continue to drink it this week, as I seem open to the power of suggestion in these matters.

Have I mentioned that I love coffee blogs? Here is what Geoff Watts of Intelligentsia, the roaster, has to say about this coffee, a botanic varietal known as Heliconias from a lot at Finca Santuario. It is rare for a farm to be able to separate a single, tiny variety so precisely. But this farm was started in 2000 by a Cali native and Purdue graduate named Camilo Merizalde.

That's unusual in itself. The odds were against starting a new coffee plantation, as Watts tells the story, "given that the global coffee market was already mired in the most serious and sustained depression we’ve seen this century, with prices far below even basic costs of production in most cases. When considering where to invest, coffee production would not even appear on most economists’ lists."

Mr. Merizalde bought land in Cauca, just outside of Popayan, that was ideal for growing coffee, at elevations of 1820 to 2000 meters. It was nearly barren land used for grazing cattle. The blog post details how he created a sustainable farm with the help of experts in biodiversity. About the beans he chose:

Rather than pick the high-yielding, easier to grow varieties widely available in Colombia (Caturra, Catuai, Variadad Colombia), he chose varieties known for their ability to produce sensational tasting coffee seeds. Old Typica and Bourbon stocks, including the original Bourbon Pointu from Reunion Island, are generally less productive and more fragile than the hybrids that are often being planted these days, but they have a much higher ceiling when it comes to cup quality. He then planted them separately, keeping each lot restricted to one type so that the different varieties could be easily segregated during harvest.

So this is a coffee with a story, one that is well worth reading in full. [April 15 update: Sadly, the link no longer works. But there is an updated pdf about the farm on the site.]

Prepared as an espresso, the Heliconias seems a little lighter than I generally like, not nearly as rich, smooth or sweet as the Guatemalan Yellow Icatu. I guess I had grown a little too attached to that. I'll have to work on the non-attachment, as this is a fine, fine coffee in its own right. May all the cups you drink this week be as good.

A Week of Sweet Tooth Yellow Icatu

In my seemingly never-ending quest for the perfect home-made espresso, I was stopped short last weekend by a bean that came incredibly close. I just didn't have time to write about it, so I've been drinking it all week, alternating with this oddly tea-like but delicious coffee from Barismo that seems better suited to what the non-Americans call a cup of American coffee. Which can be a lovely beverage, no matter what the snobs say. Anyway, I bought these espresso beans at the same time, and have been enjoying that Brazilian flavor that took Frank Sinatra to no. 6 on the charts in 1946. Name: Fazenda Esperança Sweet Tooth Espresso Yellow Icatu

Origin: Campos Altos, Brazil, in the Cerrado region

Roasted: Feb. 9 by Ritual Coffee Roasters in San Francisco

Purchased: Feb. 14 at Café Grumpy, 224 W. 20th St., Manhattan, between Seventh and Eighth Avenues.

Description: "The aroma of this espresso carries the shot, with ripe and fruity notes of lychee and concord grape, and a cherry soda sweetness emerges before a subtle dark chocolate finishes the shot," Ritual reports on its Web site.

The Pour: When I first tasted it, I thought, this is the shot I've been looking for. It was the chocolate-like finish, not overpoweringly sweet, but smooth and delicious. No bitterness whatsoever. I'll take the taster's word on the cherry soda (see those Coffee Song lyrics below), but it must be just a hint. A strong flavor like that would be a turnoff to me -- though cherries and chocolate is a great combination. Anyway, the description might lead you to think this is more like a hot chocolate, and that is not the case. It's a coffee that a coffee lover should love. Hm, I seem to be gushing. And I am definitely heading back downtown to see if there's any more left.

(While poking around on the Web, I found some blog reviews of an earlier crop of beans from the same farm.)

Ritual is promising that 2009 will be the year of the "Sweet Tooth Espressos,"

San Francisco is notoriously a city of coffee fanatics, which from time to time makes me wish I lived there (alas, the journalism opportunities are not so great). I can only hope that Grumpy orders more as the year continues. (More on how Ritual roasts).

Here is what Ritual says about Fazenda Esperança:

Produced by the Souza family--João and Tiago--in Campos Altos, Brasil, this coffee is specially roasted for espresso preparation. Their farm, Fazenda Esperança, is located in Brasil's Cerrado eco-region, known for its exceptional natural, or sun-dried, coffees--made possible by the particularly arid climate. After the Yellow Icatu trees are harvested, the coffee fruit naturally dries on concrete patios until it can be easily hulled off of the coffee bean. Because of the extra contact time that the bean has with the fruit, the coffee absorbs more sugar, which is evident in the shot.

It is not clear to me if this is the same Souza family. But doesn't that just make you love the Web? I must admit to being a sucker for these descriptions of hand-crafted coffee processes.

Now, how does that Sinatra coffee song go?

Way down among Brazilians Coffee beans grow by the billions So they've got to find those extra cups to fill They've got an awful lot of coffee in Brazil

You can't get cherry soda cause they've got to fill that quota And the way things are I'll bet they never will They've got a zillion tons of coffee in Brazil

A Tea-Flavored Cup From Nimac Kapeh

I've come to appreciate sellers and roasters who blog about their single-source culinary coffees, giving some background on the beans, how they found them, who grew them. So it was that I learned that "Nimac Kapeh" is (reputedly) a Mayan phrase that means "the place of coffee." As I have hinted before, my personal Nimac Kapeh is Café Grumpy on 20th Street in Chelsea, which is where I found myself again on Thursday after my daughter and I were thwarted on a trip to a nearby knitting store, which was closed. I picked up two bags of beans, including this one. Name: Nimac Kapeh

Origin: Atitlan region of Guatemala

Roasted: Feb. 9 by Barismo of Arlington, Ma.

Purchased: Feb. 14 at Café Grumpy, 224 W. 20th St., Manhattan, between Seventh and Eighth Avenues.

Description: "Tea-like, floral, and a mellow soft red fruit acidity."

The Pour: I recognized the Barismo bag from a previous selection in my coffee quest, the so-called Poker-Face Espresso blend, which I came to enjoy considerably back in December.

On his blog, Jaime van Schyndel of Barismo describes the trip to the obscure Atitlan region and the challenges in identifying the right beans. The final choice was a blend of small lots from many different farmers:

When we traveled to Guatemala this year, the coffees we identified with most were the Atitlans. It was a good weather year this year there and the product from Atitlan had stronger, almost Yirgacheffe-like, aromas. Soft rose and cherry blossom floral were descriptions we uttered more than a few times. The problem was finding a clean coffee that fit our tastes. This coffee struck us as a very balanced and fruit forward coffee... It was the best Atitlan we found on the trip... part of a large mill blend where farmers submit the farm lots which are so small you are unable to break the receipts down to a single farm but only down to a single day or stretch of days.

I noticed that the blog post said the flavors varied depending on how it was prepared, with a hotter cup resulting in the tea-like flavors. The bag recommended brewing it as a regular cup with some fairly specific instructions (205 degrees, 1 tbsp per five ounces of water). So I tried my best to approximate that, too.

I tend to prefer espresso, regardless of the recommendations, but since I had also bought a bag of espresso beans from Brazil (more on that later this week), I figured I would follow the instructions this time.

On opening the vacuum-sealed bag, I was caught up short by the fresh aroma. Mmm.

On tasting the cup, I definitely caught the cherry and tea-like flavors described at the Barismo blog (though I have never had old-time teaberry gum, another comparisons made by Van Schyndel). Again, I am by no means an expert in these matters -- just trying to teach myself.

The Nimac Kapeh was a bit like sipping tea, with no hint of the bitterness or sourness you sometimes get with coffee, even supposedly good beans. I was happy to drink it black, when my tendency is to add skim or soy milk when I drink by the cup, as opposed to espresso, which I take straight these days.

It had a rich, sweet finish (Barismo compared it to brown sugar -- I guess so). Very interesting. I'm going to enjoy this one and miss it when it's gone. It was a great complement to a quiet, pleasant Sunday in the middle of a long weekend, listening to music with my wife and puttering around (our daughter was on a play date).

From the Aptly Named Wondo Worka

Yes, I'm coffee-blogging again. After ambiguously adequate experiences with single-source beans from Starbucks and Joe the Art of Coffee, I high-tailed it back to my regular source of beans this week.

I'm sorry to report that the Costa Rican coffee from Starbucks remained bitter until the bitter end. I finally mixed it up with the last of the Indian Mysore, which made them both somewhat passable, because I hate to waste beans. But it was a chore. A change was in order. Name: Wondo Worka Co-Op

Origin: Yerga Cheffe or Yirgacheffe, Ethiopia. Nobody can quite agree on the spelling, apparently.

Roasted: Jan. 27 by Verve Coffee Roasters, Santa Cruz, Ca.

Purchased: Feb. 2 at Café Grumpy, 224 W. 20th St., Manhattan, between Seventh and Eighth Avenues.

Description: Nothing on the bag but the shop's menu says, "Notes of honey and apricot fill this clean sweet cup."

The Pour: It was a pleasure to try this bean as regular pressed coffee at Café Grumpy twice this week after dropping my daughter off at school, and as espresso shots this weekend. (I had a cold in the latter part of the week that I am still trying to shake, so that may interfere with my impressions.)

When I bought the beans, I ordered a 12-ounce cup of the same and was quite satisfied. I had it again on a second visit two days later. I was still drinking the other stuff at home, and the contrast was startling. This was so much better.

It's hard to find much online about the Wondo Worka cooperative. It is reportedly grown in the Sidamo province of the southern Yirgacheffe region of Ethiopia, like this "floral shining citrus" bean that I tried in this ongoing coffee-blogging quest.

In December, Ken David's Coffee Review, a leading buying guide, rated this coffee highly, saying:

Intense, bright aroma: tart coffee cherry, honey, a hint of fir, flowers. In the cup tartly sweet acidity, honeyish mouthfeel and flavor, with molasses, pipe tobacco and deep, rose-like floral notes. Very sweet, fruit-saturated, perfectly clean finish... A dramatically light roast liberates both acidity and sweetness and allows an unusual honey, molasses and rose-like floral character full expression.

A different roaster described the flavor this way: "A beautiful harmony of sweet citrus and lingering florals — lime, meyer lemon lavender cake, jasmine, and a hint of ripe honeydew."

And here is one that offers some "history":

In the lore of the bean, coffee was first discovered by an Ethiopian shepherd who noticed his goats going nuts after eating these particular cherries. So he began eating them to stay awake on long nights guarding his flock: it worked and the rest is history. You can still taste those wild nights in every cup of Yergacheffe: not too heavy or spicey and with that touch of wilderness, it is a satisfying full-bodied cup. Every coffee drinker should try the original.

I must say, these descriptions still crack me up a little, though I know what they're trying to convey. In a cup made on a Clover at the shop, I definitely found the coffee sweet with a touch of citrus, not overpowering as with the last bean I tried from this region. (And this marks the second time I've been pleased with a Verve roast.)

As an espresso, the flavor seemed more honey and molasses at first. By the third shot over the course of this morning, my head cleared -- a wonder worker from Wondo Worka? By then, I was picking up the lemon flavor, especially at the finish.

And after the unpleasant bitter experience of the Starbucks Bella Vista, it was a welcome change of pace. I'm not ready to declare an end to the quest, but this is fine coffee.

A Couple of Shots of F. W. Tres Rio Bella Vista

In my defense, I live in a neighborhood that has more square feet under the control of Starbucks than it has space devoted to food markets, bank branches or even Duane Reade drugstores. There is just one independent coffee shop, several blocks away, and it serves bad coffee. Plus, it was cold last night, 20 degrees, and the Starbucks was right there, still open, as we walked back from dinner, having just learned that our favorite sushi joint had gone out of business. And I remembered that a relative had given me a $200 Starbucks gift card more than a year ago, and it still had some money left. I needed some beans, having nearly run out of the Indian Mysore. And who knows, if a Starbucks bean turns out to be the object of my quest, that would be convenient. Name: Bella Vista

Origin: F. W. Tres Rios in Costa Rica, "in the rolling hills outside San Jose," according to the bag, "one of the region's oldest and last remaining estates. Guided by a proud tradition of quality and the long-term support of Starbucks, the owners have perfected time-honored farming methods to harvest and process the beans right on the estate and established social programs to improve the farmers' livelihoods."

Roasted: No date listed, but the bag urges "for fresh-roasted flavor, enjoy before 18 July 2009."

Purchased: Jan. 31 at Starbucks, Broadway and West 54th Street. With my purchase, I received a free cup of drip coffee, as is the custom. (Decaf, which was ready, surprisingly.)

Description: I was going to just grab a bag of the Starbucks Pike Place Blend or its espresso, but the above bag with its green leafy motif and small pictures of the farmers themselves caught my attention. "Always a favorite in our tasting room, Bella Vista is surprisingly complex with a satisfying citrus sparkle, floral notes evocative of orange blossoms and a refreshing finish."

The Pour: I have mixed feelings about Starbucks. For years, my wife and I owned some shares of SUBX in our IRAs, and for many years they reliably rose above the market rate. I had always been impressed by the quality of the service, and the cozy "third place" branding. You could always sit in a Starbucks for an hour or two, working, reading, drinking coffee. In a pinch, you could always pop into one to use the bathroom, which was reasonably clean, nothing to scoff at in New York City. But over the last couple of years, stores seemed a little dirtier, some of the staff less knowledgeable and eager to please, and the coffee, not quite so good. That led to the comeback of the founder Howard Schultz, who wondered whether mass production had led the chain on a path to mediocrity. (Around the same time, we were treated to the tale of Schultz -- a New York resident -- wandering into Cafe Grumpy and declaring the cup made on the Chelsea shop's Clover machine the best cup of coffee he had ever tasted).

So I thought I'd see if Schultz has managed to sneak some good culinary beans into the store. Bella Vista is exclusive to SBUX and supposedly the finest coffee from what is the best coffee region in Costa Rica. Not surprisingly, the chain is a dominant force in the Costa Rican coffee industry.

The price of Bella Vista was reasonable, but the quantity was large -- 16 ounces of beans. But, as I mentioned, I had this old gift card -- personalized and customized with a cartoon approximation of a bicycle-riding New Yorker -- in my wallet. I'd been having trouble using up the money on it, because a couple of months after it was given to me as a gift, I bought the refurbished Jura-Capresso machine and embarked on my quest for great home coffee, both to save money and time. The lines at Starbucks near the office were long, and the coffee seemed to be getting worse.

So how's that comeback going? Well, some people often complain that Starbucks coffee tastes overly bitter, in part because of its "over-roasting" technique. Time was, I didn't mind that strong flavor. But I've been tasting many different styles of culinary coffee lately, and perhaps my tastes have changed. I found Bella Vista distinctive and strong but far too bitter. I have tried a number of beans that claimed to have floral or citrus flavors. It is certainly adequate, and probably better in a cappuccino or a regular cup with milk.

With a business model aimed at mass production and mass shipping and gimmicks like customized gift cards, it's hard to see how Starbucks can compete on the high end, which would require fresher beans from more sources -- in other words, more inventory. And if people will line up for "good enough" coffee, why should the chain cater to someone looking for a finer quality? Starbucks is aiming consistently at the middle.

The Bella Vista bean might grow on me, but I doubt it. After my experience with changing perceptions of last week's coffee, I'm willing to give it a few more days. For one thing, just as I started to make these shots, the Jura's computer decided it was time for a cleaning tablet and procedure (it requires this to remove oils from the brewing chamber after about 200 coffees), so perhaps that might make a difference. (Update: It didn't.)

And I will have to go back to Starbucks at some point. I have $34 left on the gift card. Maybe I should stage an espresso blend showdown with Joe the Art of Coffee.

2 Shots and a Cup of Indian Mysore

I've decided to expand the sources of beans for my haphazard and probably misguided search for the perfect cup of home-brewed coffee. The other day I stopped by the relatively new Chelsea branch of Joe, the Art of Coffee, a small chain that started in the West Village, routinely turns up on best-of lists, and is sometimes credited with being one of the first movers in New York City's belated culinary coffee renaissance. Joe offers a pleasant store experience, cuppings and classes (arranged in a curriculum with semesters), podcasts and other signs that say, coffee geeks welcome. All of Joe's coffee comes from its partner, Barrington Coffee Roasting Co. I had dropped my daughter off at school nearby, and was in a bit of a rush to get back on the subway and to the office. (I live further uptown in the Starbucks wasteland.) I was about to buy a bag of espresso beans, but then "Indian Mysore" caught my eye. I know it's just a region's name, but the name seemed so unappealing for a food product that -- using reverse logic -- I thought it had to be good.

Name: Indian Mysore Origin: The branded Joe's bag is no help here, but Barrington's Web site says it comes from the Kalledevarapura Estate in Chickmagalur in the Baba Budan Giris area of India's Mysore region. Roasted: The date is not listed on the vacuum-sealed bag, but Barrington is based in Lee, Ma., and moves a lot of beans through Joe. Purchased: Jan. 21 at Joe, the Art of Coffee, 405 West 23rd St., Chelsea. Description: There's nothing on the bag, but Barrington says this is a "super smooth, heavy bodied coffee, bold and exotic with a nut-like aroma." The Pour: That description sounds like it ought to be right up my alley. But I recoiled from the first shot I tasted. It was smooth, but not super-smooth. It was sort of dusty and bitter. I certainly caught the nut flavor, but there was also an aftertaste that struck me as more unpleasant than bold. Exotic, yes. Too exotic. My first thought was, I guess I should have bought Joe's espresso blend, since I've tried that in the store and enjoyed it, and many local reviewers praise it. I prepared to write the first fully bad review in this series. Other beans have not appealed to my personal taste, but I recognized they were of good quality. This was the first I considered pitching out.

But I should probably confess that I started the morning with a last shot of this coffee from Nyakizu Cooperative in Rwanda, which has a distinctive currant-cider-spice flavor. I did clean my palate with some water but maybe the collision of flavors was still too much. It also occurred to me that maybe this was just not a good bean for espresso. I made a regular cup of coffee, tasted it, drowned it in some soy milk, tasted it again. This was not really an improvement. So I went online and noodled around for a while, did some more research. Here is what Barrington says about the Kalledevarapura Estate Indian Mysore:

This coffee is brought to us by the Herculean efforts of Dr. Joseph John, a first generation East Indian who has devoted his energy to sourcing and importing specialty coffees from India to the United States. We regard the Mysore Nuggets as consistently the highest quality specialty coffee produced in India. Grown in Northern Mysore, the specific region where this coffee is grown is called Baba Budan Giris. The name of the region comes from the legendary Baba Budan who brought coffee from Arabia to India circa 1600 A.D. When people think of India, they typically think of tea. This notion needs to be reconsidered. India has consistently been among the top 10 commercial coffee producers in the world and is on the horizon as a budding producer of specialty coffees. The Kalledevarapura Estate is a prime example.

So, now I felt bad for the Herculean efforts of the great pioneer Dr. Joseph John. I also recalled the lesson of the Peet's Aged Sumatra, which grew on me over the course of a week in L.A.

I made another shot. And here is where my fickle palate did a reversal of sorts. There was still a dustiness and an aftertaste, but this second shot was much easier to take. Not great, but better. I allowed that perhaps this particular bag of beans had been on the shelf too long, or that I waited too long to open the bag and try them. Still, it was acceptable enough the second time around that I'll give it a few more chances. I doubt it will ever make a list of my favorites or that I'll buy it again.

An update: The next day, my first shot was nuttier than I recalled on Sunday, with a only a hint of the flavors that put me off yesterday -- not sure what I meant by dustiness, though. There's also a light sour finish of sorts. But that and a second shot were perfectly acceptable. I suppose I should go take a class at Joe the Art of Coffee to learn the language to convey this stuff. For the time being, I just need to know I probably won't be getting this bean again.

On the next trip downtown, I'll either pick up Joe's Barrington Gold Espresso Blend that people rave about or do some research into some of the other offerings, including other single-source coffees.

Recommendations?

A Shot of Cider Currant Spice From Rwanda

High-end culinary coffee tends to be marketed in specifically political ways. The goal may be to make the customer feel virtuous, or at least more at ease. Maybe buying a particular batch of beans will help the environment or a third-world economy. (There is an ideological divide, even in coffee, between free traders and those who advocate fair or direct trade.) When I hear "Rwanda," I think of the 1990s upheaval and genocide that left that African country in ruins. So I was curious to see this bag of beans and decided to give it a try. Rwanda's coffee industry was nearly destroyed in that era, but now is undergoing a resurgence, thanks to a chain of cooperative farms and efforts to provide simple economic tools, like bicycles. Name: Cider Currant Spice Origin: Nyakizu Cooperative, Byumba Provence, Zirkana, Rwanda Roasted: Jan. 6. Purchased: Jan. 10 at Café Grumpy, 224 W. 20th St., Manhattan, between Seventh and Eighth Avenues. Description: Bourbon, grown at 1500 - 1900 meters above sea level. The Pour: Quite tasty. It is a light and frothy mixture, more spice than cider, I'd say. Perfect for a snowy holiday day in New York. There's no overpowering aftertaste, and it goes down smoothly. Coffee tasters call it a "bright" cup, and I'm starting to get a sense of what they mean by that. I could drink this all day, and I just might. There was not a lot of information on the bag, although I found references elsewhere to the Nyakizu Cooperative, established in 2006. Here's a reference to the 2007 batch from this same cooperative:

The coffee, an Arabica Bourbon, is grown in rich, volcanic soil at a relatively high altitude and holds onto it’s milk chocolaty tones even when roasted a bit dark. Each cup I’ve pulled has given me god-like shots, heady with crema. Other reviews I’ve read recommend the bean more for press coffee than espresso, as there is a bit of a sharp edge to the pulled shots. With a touch of velvety steamed milk, I thought the sharpness wasn’t a problem, but others might.

I wasn't picking up on the chocolate or the sharp edge with this roast, and I thought it worked fine as espresso. But here was another review:

When I first tried this coffee the blackcurrant rushing through with a light and gentle acidity. Underneath there is a hint of floral with a thick creamy body with a really clean and sharp aftertaste. I personally love these coffees in the filter and french press, a wonderfully complex coffee.

I'll have to try this as a regular filtered mug of coffee. The second link above also includes a lengthy history of how the genocide affected the coffee trade (many of those with specialized knowledge of the industry were killed). Specialty coffee sells for four times as much per kilo as regular old coffee, and with direct trade, the farmers keep more of the profits. I don't mind paying more for a good cup, and the marketing works: I get to feel slightly virtuous about a habit that is -- let's face it -- an indulgence, a luxury.

Several Shots of Finca Santa Isabel's Best

This felt like a long week. A lot of meetings. My daughter had her first round of standardized testing at school. Two reporters I rely on the most at work took some days off. Then a plane ditched in the Hudson. We blogged, twittered, stayed up late. It was the rare big story with a happy ending. Way back on Sunday I had bought this bag of beans and, even before the crash landing, I was making myself three fast espresso shots with the Jura to jolt myself awake each morning before rushing out the door. That did not allow much time for contemplation of how these beans compared to the others I've sampled and written about. Name: Finca Santa Isabel (Rainforest Alliance). Origin: Mountaintop plantation by the above name in Santa Rosa, Guatemala. Roasted: Jan. 6 by Verve Coffee Roasters, Santa Cruz, Calif. Purchased: Jan. 10 at Café Grumpy, 224 W. 20th St., Manhattan, between Seventh and Eighth Avenues. Description: None on the plain brown bag. But this Cup of Excellence entry described a related batch as solid, well-balanced, with good acidity, clean and sweet. The Pour: This morning, with a small amount of the bag left, I took the time to savor a shot for the first time this week. A nice layer of crema on top. My impressions from the week are confirmed: a full-bodied, tasty shot. No fruity flavors. Not overpowering. No bite or unpleasant aftertaste. Pleasant. Probably what most people would think of when you say coffee. It reminds me of the Poker Face Espresso, a blend that also had some Guatemalan beans, as well as the serviceable Heartbreaker.

According to this account, the beans -- principally Canturra and Catuai, both from the Arabica coffee family -- are grown in volcanic soil in the ideal climate, then hand-sorted a couple of times in a water process before being sun-dried on special patios. Mmmm, sounds crafty. Then there's the "innovative two-step fermentation, which results in a smoother, cleaner cup." I don't know that I buy into much coffee hype, but they do seem to be doing something right. I'm still looking for something a little richer and smoother, in my quest for an ideal cup. I also wonder if the longer delay from the roasting to my cup has had any effect.

I'm probably going to miss it when I turn to the Rwandan beans that I also bought last Sunday. That bag remains sealed in a cool place, but the bag promises a "cider currant" flavor. What was I thinking? I'll stick with the Finca Santa Rosa today and try that tomorrow.

A Mug of Peet's Aged Sumatra

As promised, here is part two of my traveling coffee review, as my quixotic coffee quest continues on a second coast. After some misadventures with two ancient drip coffee makers, I bought a French press at Peet's Coffee and Tea on Ventura Boulevard in Studio City. I also acquired some of the specialty chain's Aged Sumatra, on top of the plain old Sumatra I wrote about yesterday. Name: Peet's Aged Sumatra

Geographic Origin: Sumatra, Indonesia.

Description: Nothing on the bag, but the Peet's Web site says: "A very rich coffee with a slight hint of a tropical wood flavor, a concentrated dried fruit sweetness, herbal notes, and ample body."

Date Purchased: Dec. 28.

Date Roasted: Unknown, but presumably this weekend, based on the Peet's promise that beans are roasted six days a week and are stocked in stores within a day.

Source: Peet's Coffee and Tea, 12215 Ventura Boulevard, Studio City, Ca.

The Pour: I had an easier time of it today with the Bodum Chambord, pictured above, because the Aged Sumatra was ground coarse, the proper method for a French press. The Sumatra had been ground finer, for an automatic coffee maker, which made it harder to apply pressure on the plunger. I was a little fearful on Sunday that it might all shatter, spraying me with glass and hot coffee. Today it was easy as pie. I enlisted a nearby child to time the steeping at precisely 4 minutes. Supposedly, aged coffee can be a bit of a shock, with a bite at first, and I suppose that was true in this case. But I found it tastier than the regular Sumatra, full-flavored with plenty of body. I guess I tasted the tropical wood, but I'm still trying to detect the dried fruit. It's certainly not an overpowering part of the taste, which is fine by me. The flavor is improving by the minute, in fact.

Effects: As I suspect is the case with most people, east-to-west jetlag is generally easier for me than the reverse. I just keep myself awake the first couple of days while sleeping in, which means I still wake up early on local time, yet refreshed from extra hours of sleep. But one drawback is that my body is aching for caffeine at inappropriate times. That makes me fuzzy, unfocused and crabby. The Aged Sumatra has taken care of that, giving me enough clarity to wonder, what's this about "aged" coffee? Isn't old coffee a bad thing? Apparently not. Here's what Peet's has to say about the aging process:

Good aged coffees are very hard to find, due to the lengthy aging process and the fact that coffee exporters usually want to convert their coffee to cash as soon as possible. But there are a few who are willing to wait, knowing that the fine aged coffee can be worth quite a bit more.... Aging must take place in a tropical environment, where beans take on moisture at the height of the monsoon season, and give it back during the drier season, without ever drying completely. This process deepens the flavor and makes it mellower, while accentuating certain taste components over others.

Well, whatever. I've had two mugs of the stuff, with no complaints, and I'm ready to roll.

A Mug of Peet's Sumatra Coffee

Making good coffee when traveling is a hassle, especially if you are staying with people who don't make it regularly, as is my current situation. So my search for the perfect shot has been somewhat disrupted. I went down to the Valley, as they call it here, and found a Peet's Coffee and Tea on Ventura Boulevard in Studio City. My coffee geek friends from the West Coast have always sworn by Peet's. The list of beans on the wall was heavy on citrus-y flavors, and I asked for something richer, nuttier. The staff concluded that I should go with something Indonesian. I settled on this and had them grind it for use in a drip coffee maker. I took it back to where we were staying, and then my troubles began. Name: Peet's Sumatra

Geographic Origin: Sumatra, Indonesia.

Description: Nothing on the bag, but the Peet's Web site says: "Very full body, very concentrated flavor. Sweet, slightly earthy, herbal nuances... It's not the most refined or elegant coffee you can drink, but its gutsy and earthy richness is very seductive." It's a longtime standard at Peet's.

Date Purchased: Dec. 27.

Date Roasted: Unknown, but presumably Dec. 26 or Dec. 27 based on this promise on the bag: "We roast six days a week to fill the daily orders from our stores... We don't store our roasted coffee. Coffee we roast today will be in our stores... the next business day."

Source: Peet's Coffee and Tea, 12215 Ventura Boulevard, Studio City, Ca.

The Pour: Our hosts had a couple of old drip coffee makers up on a shelf. Emphasis on old. And dusty. So when I got around to making coffee this morning, the first one did not function properly, and the water overflowed the plastic gold filter. The second one could not be compelled to push water through the filter. So it was back down the hill to buy a French press, a Bodum Chambord, at Peet's. This was my preferred method of making coffee before I bought the fancy automatic espresso maker I use at home. I also bought another pound of coffee, this time "Aged Sumatra," with a rough grind for a French press. In the confusion of re-learning how to make coffee this way, I ended up using the finer grind plain Sumatra for the drip machines. It worked out OK, though I did have some difficulty pressing down, which the French press instructions had warned about. I'll try the other grind tomorrow. After some trial and error, I had a good cup. The flavor was deep, rich, as promised, with a slightly bitter aftertaste (I may have made it too strong). It had a full, smooth body, quite pleasant. No citrus or hints of berry and so forth, as promised. I added a bit of soy milk to take the edge off.

Effects: It also took the edge off my mood, which had been aggravated by the broken drip coffee makers and the extra trip down the hill. I stopped growling at people and decided to do this blog post, even though I'm supposedly on vacation, because this is my strange idea of a good time. I look forward to comparing this cup to the Aged Sumatra tomorrow. Here's a little more detail from the Peet's site about the growing process:

Sumatra is another classic Indonesian coffee but totally different from Java. Java's coffees are grown on estates and processed by the washed method; Sumatra's coffees are grown by small landholders who may only have a few trees on their property, and they are processed by the dry method. The ripe coffee cherries are pulped by hand and spread in the sun to dry rather than being rinsed in water overnight. The net result of dry-processed coffee is very heavy body and very full flavor.

A Shot of Hartmann Honey Selection 5

In this quest for the perfect shot, I have written before about my fond memories of drinking coffee last December made from honey beans of Panama, so I was delighted to spy this bag on the shelf. Let's get down to business.

Name: Hartmann Honey Selection 5

Geographic Origin: Volcan, Panama

Description: Full body, grapefruit acidity, black currant aroma, gentle berry notes, nutty finish.

Date Roasted: Dec. 9, 2008, by Novo Coffee of Denver.

Date Purchased: Dec. 15.

Source: Café Grumpy, 224 W. 20th St., Manhattan, between Seventh and Eighth Avenues.

The Pour: I could not find any reference to the Hartmann honey bean on the Novo site (although there is a listing for Bambito Honey from another grower in the same region, using a honey process, that sounds delicious; I might just order some). I have to admit, in the case of this Selection 5, I was filled with mild trepidation at the mention of "grapefruit acidity" in the description. I have found beans with citrus hints interesting, but more and more I think I prefer the richer, nuttier flavors. Would this shot send me high-tailing it down to Grumpy's to buy more of this selection? I'm afraid the answer is no. I definitely pick up the strong grapefruit flavor when I first sip it, and the experience is not entirely pleasant. The taste is most pronounced when I swirl it in the front of my mouth and taste it with the tip of my tongue. Definitely weird, definitely not what I want in coffee. Too bad. I don't detect the nutty finish at all, which is also too bad. That could have saved it.

Effects: It does what coffee does. But the disappointment lingers, and another shot only hardens my impression. This is not what I've been looking for. And unlike some of the other odder beans I've tried, I'm thinking I might have a hard time getting through the whole bag. I may have to mix it with something else, not sure what. We'll be having guests tomorrow, and I guess they'll be getting the last of the Poker Face Espresso if they are not game to try this.

A Shot of Poker Face Espresso

My quest for the perfect shot of home-made espresso took me to the world of blended concoctions, The name and the white bag with a handy matching clip caught my eye, though on reflection at home the packaging seemed like a waste. It didn't help that I clumsily tore the bag up, causing beans to fly all over the kitchen. Name: Poker Face Espresso

Geographic Origin: 80 percent Guatemala Finca Cardenes with 20 percent Kenya Kiandu

Description: The Kiandu's effervescent berry aroma is complimented by the Cardenes' syrupy mouthfeel and undertones of vanilla.

Date Roasted: Dec. 3, 2008, by Barismo of Arlington, MA.

Date Purchased: Dec. 8, 2008.

Source: Café Grumpy, 224 W. 20th St., between Seventh and Eighth Avenues.

The Pour: Central America meets Africa. It is a pleasant mix, though I still have trouble with the fruitier tasting espressos. This taste is milder than the "floral shining citrus" of the Kurimi, which I still have hanging around. The vanilla may help a little. The meaning of the name was a mystery. Then I searched online and found this explanation from the roaster, Jaime van Schyndel of Barismo:

Poker Face is a creation I came up with in cooperation with Nik Krankl, owner of Taste and a serious poker player. .. In one way, [his coffee career] was a throwback to his father's success in the wine industry. An acknowledgment of his father's influence and deference to an exceptional wine his father created, of the same name. Much like the Syrah, this espresso has notes of berries, vanilla, and fruit but with a creamy texture and excellent mouth feel. Looking back before you go forward is something we respect a lot in our choosing names for blends and this is no exception. Nik now takes this name a bit more literally. As a former barista myself, I understand how difficult it can be to read the espresso drinker. They rarely come out and literally say what they felt. Instead they hold it tight and keep a 'poker face' in regards to their emotions about what they just imbibed.

Effects: I think this might make a good bean for a cappucino or even an Irish coffee, but I'm drinking it straight this afternoon after a night out with some old pals Friday. I'm a little tired and have a bit of a headache, but this hit the spot. One thing I did not expect when I started this journey was how much information I would find online. But I am discovering that behind nearly every bean, there seems to be a blogger with a story to tell. Here's a tip of the cup to the collaborators at Barismo.

A Shot of Novo Decaf Espresso

There are some who say that decaf is pointless, decaf espresso even more so. But of course, decaf does contain some caffeine, so it can be a nice way to put a little life back into an evening after a long day at work. That way I don't drowse off reading monster-sized novels, listening to podcasts or watching the idiot box. My quest for the samadhi shot continues, and this is the decaffeinated edition. Name: Decaf Espresso

Description: "Nuances: Full body, sweet, slightly nutty."

Source: Café Grumpy, 224 W. 20th St., between Seventh and Eighth Avenues.

Geographic origin: Ethiopia, no region specified.

Date Roasted: Dec. 1, 2008 by Novo.

Date Purchased: Dec. 8, 2008.

The Pour: I had a spot of trouble, because I wanted to keep the decaf separated from the regular beans. My fancy coffee maker has a separate chamber for powdered coffee, so I tried at first to pre-grind the decaf and brew it that way. But I ran into some problems too embarrassing to enumerate and finally gave up, putting a small number of beans into the main chamber and letting it do everything automatically, the regular way.

The Internet can turn anyone into an expert. That is a great strength, though it has some bizarre side effects. I had always deferred my coffee choices, as I still defer wine choices, to others. But I have been learning a lot lately. And coffee makers these days mix a lot of philosophy with their marketing. But they also explain stuff, too:

Because of temperatures required to remove caffeine from raw coffee, it has thus far been impossible to decaffeinate coffee without moderating its flavor. Normally, the lowest grade coffees are used so as not to waste the best seeds (beans). Additionally, among the number of methods used to remove caffeine, most involve the use of harsh chemicals. Our mission at Novo is to find the best flavor that results from a completely natural, water-based method of decaffeination.

This is not the first time I have come across references to this organic, water process for decaf. I'm not a big decaf drinker, but this is making me think twice about the old bag of Starbucks bold decaf beans in the freezer.

Anyway, this shot was certainly full bodied, maybe a little nutty, nothing special, perhaps because of the low-grade beans and the process to take out the go-stuff.

Effects: I may have perked up a little, but I didn't want to perk up too much. I already had plenty of coffee this morning. I wrote this blog post, so I guess it had some effect. It'll be good to have around for an evening like this. My wife sometimes wants decaf, and sometimes a guest requests it. I guess I'll put it in the freezer where I had the Starbucks.

A Shot of 'Floral Shining Citrus' Kurimi

My quest for the God shot, as a fellow Wordpress blogger put it, continues. I didn't get down to Porto Rico Importing Co. on Bleecker Street again yet, so it's back to my regular supplier in Chelsea. I bought some more Heartbreaker, and decided to try this bag of beans from Ethiopia too. Name: Kurimi

Description: Direct trade. "Floral Shining Citrus." Indigenous grown at 1700-1900 meters in Ethiopia.

Source: Café Grumpy, 224 W. 20th St., between Seventh and Eighth Avenues.

Geographic origin: Yirgacheffe region, Ethiopia.

Date Roasted: Nov. 18, 2008 by Intelligentsia.

Date Purchased: Nov. 24, 2008.

The Pour: "What's that? Smells good," said my wife from across the room. She does not drink anything but decaf, and that, rarely. The flavor is mellow, not overpowering, not bitter or sour, either. I'm not sure I am a fan of coffee that calls to mind fruit flavors, but this one does and pulls it off. It's subdued.

Intelligentsia says, "Charming the palate with its citrus fruit acidity, the Kurimi sparkles and shines as it brings forth flavors of orange, lime and lemongrass. Notes of jasmine and honeysuckle carry a delicate sweetness that gives the cup a juicy, refreshing character. A subtle and clean finish leaves notes of sweet spice and cocoa. Truly an elegant cup."

I caught the hint of orange, missed the notes of jasmine and honeysuckle, and did get a whiff of cocoa when the shot of espresso was brewing. I think I prefer something deeper and richer in a coffee, but this bean was a unique experience.

Effects: My first shot was made mild, in the early evening Wednesday, and I was still drowsing an hour later. That was probably a sign of my exhaustion from cramming a week's worth of work into three days before the holiday. I eventually perked up and roughed out this post while catching up on some podcasts and following the dire news from Mumbai. I didn't dare try another shot, or I would have been up all night.

This morning, I made a strong shot to wake up for the holiday. Feeling like a bit of a sluggard. Jane is cooking vegetarian stuffing in the kitchen to take down to our communal Thanksgiving feast with friends. CNN is chattering in the other room. The crowd are trapping us at home for a while. Our daughter is upstairs with Indian neighbors, who are watching the Macy's parade out their window a block away, big balloons passing through buildings on Broadway in the distance. I'll have to go up and get their take on the news. This shot of Kurimi was a brief moment for reflection. Does it shine? Maybe it does. We shall see how the rest of the day goes. I may need a third.

Peace.

A Mug of Flor Azul Coffee

O.K., I ground the "Heartbreaker" and drank it all up, so I decided to try something different in my quest for the perfect cup of home-brewed coffee. Now I am blogging about this so I will remember the next time. Why are you reading it? That is your business. Oh, Internet. You're such a mix of exhibitionism, voyeurism, the trivial and the ineffable. Name: Flor Azul Description: Direct trade. "Creamy approachable melon." Caturra, Catui grown at 1200-1550 meters (above sea level). Source: Café Grumpy, 224 W. 20th St., between 7th and 8th Avenues. Geographic origin: Las Brumas Cooperative in the Jinotega, Matagalapa region of Nicaragua. Packaging: Sealed in thick plastic bag. By the way, is that a rotten iPhone photo of the bag, or what? Sorry, I was in a rush, and my wife doesn't want this trash lying around. Better shot by coffeeruas on Flickr. Coffee porn! Coffeeruas says: "Nice mouthfeel, smooth, apple, nutty.... very mild." Date Roasted: Nov. 4, 2008 by Intelligentsia. Date Purchased: Nov. 12, 2008. The Pour: I fired up the Jura-Capresso Impressa F9 Espresso Machine that I bought (refurbished) when I felt richer and tried this first as espresso for much of the week. But it's not an espresso bean. It seemed a little sour and bitter at the same time, without any milk. Not apple or nutty either. Thick crema. Certainly "approachable" (!) and mild. Maybe I am just not a good taster. I also have a cold, and there's been a woody taste in our building's water since the new tank was installed on the roof. Yada, yada. I decided to try a regular mug of coffee on Saturday morning, brewed strong. Still kind of sour. Less bitter. It was indeed a little creamy. Huh. Still better than average coffee and fine with soy milk. Effects: It's coffee. It does the job. I will have another mug right now. Yes, it definitely grows on you. I am waking up, shaking off the cold a little, breathing a little better. For espresso, I think I still prefer Heartbreaker. I will probably widen my search for beans to the wide selection at Porto Rico Importing Co. on Bleecker Street, which comes highly recommended by some friends who are transplanted West Coast coffee snob. It always seems too damn crowded when I'm in that neighborhood, though. Suggestions always welcome.

A Shot of 'Heartbreaker' Coffee

Maybe it's the fault of my small-town redneck-hick upbringing, but I have a hard time taking any sort of connoisseurship seriously. I have always laughed at fancy descriptions of wines, and it seems even sillier for coffee. Coffee's coffee, isn't it? What kind of dope pays more than 75 cents for a cup of joe? My parents fancied themselves gourmets, but when it came to coffee we were still a Maxwell House family. Freeze dried! I had never even heard of espresso until I met an Italian kid in the dorm with his own stove-top macchinetta. It was a revelation. In the 20-plus years that followed, high-end coffee connoisseurship took off in this country, and I have been its willing victim. Here's my latest effort to figure out if this expensive habit is worthwhile or frivolous.

Name: Heartbreaker Description: "A Café Grumpy Espresso Integration. Rich fruit, chocolate, very balanced with an Amaretto finish." Roasted by Novo. Source: Café Grumpy, 224 W. 20th St., between 7th and 8th Avenues. Country of Origin: Not listed, but apparently a blend of Colombian varieties. Packaging: Sealed in foil bag. Date Roasted: Oct. 27, 2008 Date Purchased: Nov. 5, 2008. The Pour: Single shot of espresso, ground and made fresh. Let's stipulate that I probably don't have the nose for this sort of thing. Deep, rich flavor, but I'm not getting the chocolate, or the Amaretto aftertaste. The aftertaste is pleasant enough, not annoying. That said, this alternative description of Heartbreaker ("a smooth, fruity shot with a great creamy finish and silky mouthfeel" etc.) seems more on point. The flavor is not nearly as bitter as the canned Danesi from Zibetto I bought last week, which wore on me after a few days. It might be a freshness issue. My hands-down all-time favorite remains Honey Bean, which Grumpy did not have in stock. I may have to buy a truckload of it the next time they have some. (Many of these links are to the store's old blog; the new one is here.) Effects: I am now on my third shot of Heartbreaker. It's sublime. This has been a long and tiring week at work, and I still have a sleep deficit. But for now I am focused and clearheaded, and feel as though I can conquer the weekend and go join some friends, who are brewing beer today. But I better stop with the coffee before I get jittery and punch a hole in my Mac keyboard.

Standing Up for Coffee at Zibetto

Zibetto is right around the corner on Sixth Avenue, near 56th Street. You drink your cappucinos or espressos at the long bar or at a shelf in the opposite wall. There are no chairs. New York mag summed it up when Zibetto opened in 2006: "It takes nerve to open an espresso bar across the street from Starbucks—especially an inconspicuous nook without drip coffee, free wi-fi, or even seats." The service is friendly, with little or no waiting -- Anastasio Nougos owns the place and pulls all the drinks. The coffee is great, though I am still partial to Cafe Grumpy in Chelsea. Zibetto is an old-world experience that transports away from a part of the city where it's rare to find a place that isn't a chain or a ripoff. I find it hard to believe he can stay in business at this spot, but I'm glad he has. Today I knew I was running low on beans when we walked by, so I picked up a can of Danesi espresso beans imported from Italy. When I got them home, I decided to make myself another shot in the Jura. The top popped off the vacuum container with a satisfying whoosh. Fresh. Aah.

About the Name @Palafo

Updated  Sept. 16, 2012.

When I started working on the metropolitan desk of The New York Times in 1997, the newsroom was using a publishing system known as Atex for text editing. Usernames were six characters long. The naming convention at the time was to take the first two letters of the staffer's given name and the first four letters of the surname. Patrick+LaForge=Palafo.

Not every Atex username had a mellifluous combination of consonants and vowels, but mine did. On a whim, I used it as a username on various sites in the early years of the Web and as an e-mail address with a succession of Internet service providers. The vaguely Italian-sounding but non-existent name was usually available, while my actual name was already being snapped up by my French-Canadian-Irish doppelgängers.

The Atex naming convention used by The Times was abandoned (along with Atex), but a few of us still use the naming convention in e-mail addresses.

I have been a computer nerd and geek since a time before there was a Web, and I was a bit of an early Web pioneer, but I did not use the name for a blog until I started the earliest version of this one in 2008. Here's hoping I don't besmirch it in the permanent record for all time.

Regarding the pronunciation: Some people have been known to say PAL-ah-foe, but I prefer to stress the syllable that is also the first syllable of my surname: puh-LAAF-oh. Sort of like palazzo.