Good Coffee at Home

Do you ever wonder why making coffee at home just never quite tastes like it does when you buy a cup at the coffee shop? 

There are a few reasons for this (I believe)...

So today, I will share a couple tips... and this might just help make your cup-a-coffee that you enjoy in your PJs taste almost as good as it does when you pay over two bucks for a cup at the shop. 

Brewing the Best Cup at Home: 

#1: Use the best beans. Freshly roasted is key. Make sure you buy whole bean coffee. Or buy whole bean coffee at the store/shop and grind it on site. Some ground coffees sit on store shelves for a long time. Grinding as close to brewing is essential. 

#2: Use filtered water. Coffee shops like the one I work at have the best filter systems... coffee is only as good as the water that you use. 

#3: Use the correct grind. If your coffee machine is a flat bottom filter, or cone filter, or french press, or percolator, or espresso machine... there is a special grinding method for each type of coffee making system. Coffee ground too fine will be too strong. Coffee ground too coarse will be too weak. Know your type of coffee making system.

#4: Use the correct amount of coffee. This is for all of you who "eye-ball-it". Your Barista would never do such a thing! Our coffee shop recommends using two level tablespoons per 6 ounces of water. But you can adjust it to your taste. 

#5: Drink it up. Coffee should not be left on a burner. As it sits and heats up... the coffee starts to take on a burnt flavor. Put it in an air-pot, or cup. 

For the "coffee snobs" out there: 

I mean "coffee snobs" in a good way. Smile. When buying coffee beans... the best places to buy coffee are from stores that roast coffee beans in small batches to peak flavor. The Coffee Shop I work at roasts only what is needed. In fact, our coffee usually is sold within 5 days of roasting. The coffee that the owner/roaster chooses is selected from the finest coffee farms in the world. He has even flown to visit and "cup" coffees from different parts of the world. 

When visiting your local coffee shops... ask the Baristas about their coffee. If they are well-trained to answer questions... that usually means that they take pride in the entire coffee process and understand the art. 

Coffee Shop Life: An unhappy man, an indignant waitress and moral jujitsu

So, on my second day back at the coffee shop... I ran into this "older" gentleman. He cut his way to the front of the line and yelled... "I need a blueberry muffin and a coffee." He wasn't looking at one particular barista... he just blurted it out for the world to hear and attend to. The people behind him starred. I was helping another customer at the time and said, "Okay Sir, we'll be right with you." He proceeded to order a bottle of milk. This milk comes from a local creamery and is contained in a glass bottle. Therefore, the glass bottle costs a bit more. However, if you return the glass bottle... we give you your money back. Somehow, in the midst of our communication... there was a mishap. And he had thought I had told him something different. When I wrung up his order, he snapped at me. And then he snapped again. 

Every person in the vicinity heard this. I tried to explain it slower. I spoke a bit more clearly and pronounced. I tried to keep my composure. I tried to smile. Make it "light". Somehow, we both agreed. He took his muffin and his coffee firmly in hand and headed to a quite table nestled near the window. And I think he enjoyed his stay. One of our loyal customers approached me after and said, "way to handle that one, Lady! I want to give you a hug!" But I didn't always handle things this way.

I grew up as a CORO (child of restaurant owners). I was taught to work hard. To smile at costumers. To remember that the "customer is always right". I learned the art of people pleasing. However, sometimes it took a large effort. I took things personally. It was my family's restaurant.

 A year before my parent's sold their restaurant, a "regular" customer felt the need to place his negativity and bitterness on me (his waitress). He complained about his breakfast. He insulted our establishment. And therefore, insulted "my family". And boy... did I ever let into him. I told him that we didn't need OR WANT his business anyway. And I told him to leave. 

And then I went back to the kitchen and cried. I was 19 years old. 

So now, at 27, I've learned a few things. I've learned to perform a sort of "moral jujitsu". What is it? Well... I had not heard of it myself until a wise, learned, gracious, humble teacher taught me about such things. You take that negative energy that flings itself at you and you turn it around. Non-violently and non-abrasively... you resist it. You don't get caught up in this negative energy... you turn it around with good vibrations. You kill "it" with kindness. You out-wit this negative force. Not in a sarcastic way... but with a "trueness" to honestly seeking this negative energy's destruction and inevitably the soul's freedom that's behind it. 

I'm not gonna lie. I'm not so great at it yet. I think that when you get really good at it... you don't even have to do what I did: When that man in the coffee shop took his seat, I went into the dish room and "shook it out". I might have even pretended to kick him in the pants. I might have even cussed under my breath. 

But then I let it go. And I smiled at him later on. And he might have even smiled back.  

The road to the coffee shop

I guess I could speak about two roads. One, the actual, physical road... for it is one of my favorites. And the other... the reason why I am working at a coffee shop.

The road I take to get to the coffee shop winds in between New England style houses. There is always someone walking along the road. Or biking. Or running. It passes over water 3 times. A small marina. A few fish and chip joints. The local lobster hot spot. And finally, you get to the bridge that brings you across the river.... into the city.

Ahh.. the bridge. It hums as you cross over. And I love that sound. It's the sound of the way to the little New England city. 

And then, you arrive at the coffee shop. I may be a bit biased when I say it's THE coffee shop of the city. But... in reality... IT IS. For a time, I worked at the Starbucks across the street from that local coffee shop. And the district manager at Starbucks knew that I had worked off and on at that local gem... and she asked me quite frustrated one day, "What is it with that place? What is it about that place that people flock there? It's like a religion!" 

On a side note: I know, I know... you are thinking, " you coffee shop hoe, you". And in a way, I was. For the past 5 years, I have worked on and off at this local coffee shop and in between one of those "on and offs"... I worked at Starbucks. Starbucks, for some of the "locals" is considered the "evil empire". And I understand where they are coming from. We have become a "Starbucks Nation". However, my experience there was a positive one. I had a few friends working there at the time and had learned that Starbucks offers incredible part-time benefits... and GET THIS... $4,000 in aid for those employees who adopt children. Did you catch that? $4,000. Adopters take NOTE. For such a "corporate" company... they do care about individuals, and helping the people who are marginalized. And I'd like to celebrate that. BUT... why am I back at that local gem? I will tell you... 

To be quite frank... I felt so alive there. 

Being a stay-at-home mom has been the toughest thing I've ever done. Don't get me wrong... it's the wind beneath my wings. But that doesn't mean I'm flying high all the time. I wrote about that  here. After a tough day in "mommyhood" I took a drive into the city and walked along the snow-filled streets. And I felt a lighter air beckoning me back. Back to the coffee shop. 2 days a week. And it's just perfect. It's like putting a jet pack on my wings when I find it hard to fly. 

And why? The people. It's filled with that Life Blood I was talking about. People "flock" to that coffee shop because it's filled with life's energy. And it sells the best coffee around. Hand roasted in small batches... right there. The aroma fills the streets. The whistle of the espresso bar is like soothing waves at the beach for some. There is just something about it. The locals meet there at the same time, every day, and get the SAME THING they've been ordering for the past 15 years. The artists, the poets, the teachers, the high schoolers, the rich, the poor, the elderly... and my most favorites... the ones who work behind the counter. They all have stories to tell. And for some reason... at the coffee shop... it's easy to tell your story.

So, I'm back. They took me back. Thank you. And so, I will write about life at the coffee shop. There are always life lessons taught. Always people you meet that make you go, "hmmm". So, look for a little button on the blog coming soon. I hope you'll love it as much as I do. 

Love... I get so lost, sometimes.

Yesterday... was a day I tell you. In the morning, I spent an hour packing up my kids for the day to go hang out with some friends. I walked out my front door to 6 inches of snow. I cleaned off the car... I shoveled... lugged the twins out... and got stuck. Really stuck. So... I brought them back in. 

But before I gave up... I slammed my foot against the bottom of the car, gas pedal in-between, and I let careless, careless words fly out my mouth. I turned back to see these innocent little faces taking it all in. They looked confused. And I prayed to God that they forget. I prayed that my anger just soars over them... that it didn't stick to them like we were stuck in the snow. "I'm so sorry, my boys. Mommy's so sorry." Can you taste my tears? 

Oh, this year has been hands down the toughest year OF MY LIFE. Oh sure, there will be years to come that I will look back at this one and think it was a simple walk in the park. But, for me, the first year of Mommyhood has been a bit like our first year of Marriagehood. You make it through, but for grace,  limping across the finish line with a pulled hammy, stitches, squinting at the sun and exasperated. But OH do you finish! And when the gun sounds the next time, the others are spitting dirt out of their teeth as they watch your shadow grow smaller and smaller. Running becomes like breathing. Oh, do I hope that's what Mommyhood is like.

Now, don't get me wrong, sometimes, no, no... MANY times, being a mommy is simply glorious. These moments come that are almost too much to bear. Too much joy. Too much love. You think that your heart might just burst open. After spending a day without my boys... I would run 600 miles to just see them smile.

But that wasn't yesterday. Yesterday was a limp-across-the-finish-line kind of day. In fact, I called my husband to say, "Hi. Hows it going? I gotta get out. Really badly."

He's so good it's sick. Not that he's perfect by any means. (Darn close though, Love). But he took my, "I gotta get out" like a champ. He understands. He understands that being with them can make you your very best. And your very worst... just...like... THAT.

 I swear it was like listening to Peter Gabriel's song in a real life key: "When I want to run away, I drive off in my car." So I did. I drove up the hill, into the dusk and off... into the city.

Ah, "the city". I worked there off and on for the past five years. My time spent, in what we in New England call, "The City", was some of the best in my life. WHY? I think it's all the life that it holds. SO much LIFE.

Off and on I worked at this little coffee shop downtown. Actually, it was THE coffee shop downtown. There were at least 8 people behind the counter at all times, always a line out the door, the La Marzzoco was always crankin', and the people... oh the people it attracted were ALWAYS... always... crazy.

Crazy in a good way. A really good way. There was "Homeless Joy-filled". He smiled and said, "God bless you," all the time. There was the"Always-High-Guy". He made finger paintings and thought that he was Van Gogh. When he spoke to you he stared into your soul (which is quite common for those who live on copious amounts of weed). There was a woman who always had a story about the CIA trying to track her down.There were the poets. The musicians. The filthy rich. The dirt poor. The business-men. The exercise-nuts. The women who were insecure. The frat-boys who tried so hard. They were kind. They were mean. They were lonely. They were joyful. They were in trouble. They were dying. They were full of life.

LIFE I tell you.

Just like me. Just like you.

Being a "stay at home" mom is a bit of a struggle for me. You see, for me, befriending "Homeless Joy-filled", watching "Always-High-Guy", and giving the "business woman" a smile... ignites my soul. In all honesty... being home A LOT has made for some very dark days.

And then of coarse I start thinking, "Do I want to get out because it's too hard to be home? Too hard to have patience ALL THE TIME? Too hard to pour every little bit of myself into these little vessels? Too hard to do medial tasks, day in? Day out? Too hard?

Yesterday, as I walked through the slush on the city streets, I started to appreciate the brown snow. The snow that was plowed, driven through, walked in and pee'd on. It reminded me of the messy lives of everyone in that city. It reminded me of myself.

I need some things. I want to be better for my little Tender Heart and Brave Heart. There are parts of me that I wish were so different. Edges that need to be smoothed. Soft spots that need to be hardened. Something inside me needs to change. And I have two ideas.

The Salvation Army.

The Coffee Shop.

So, in telling you all this, it means I'm really ready to make a jump. You'll hold me to it.

I'm going to try to work 2 days a week at a local coffee shop and get plugged into all that "life blood" again. AND... I want to somehow volunteer my time at the local Salvation Army. So much of this year has been, "I've got nothing left to give... I'm being poured out every day." Oh.. get OVER yourself!

So... thats it. Brown snow. Needs. Patience. And "Life Blood".