Pourover brewer vs. poor press brewer

As mentioned in a previous post--I have had trouble with my coffee press. Rarely--maybe one out of six times--did I get a solid cup of coffee.

But, I am happy to report, my brewing problems are over. My pourover brewer arrived. I gave it a try this morning, and it produced a remarkably nice cup--and on the first try! The only caveat, at this point, is that it will brew only about 12 ounces at a time. This amount is perfect for me... but if I have guests, I may have to give the coffee press another go.

The improbable sexiness of paper

What is it about paper? Out of context, paper is quite plain (or 3-hole punched-- ah thank you, Jim Halpert). But considered in many of its ubiquitous forms--paper is undeniably sexy.

The thank-you note A promptly sent paper note says, "Thanks for [insert laudable behavior here] --I truly appreciate having you as a [insert relationship identifier here]." But a thank-you email says, "Well... you're still in my Contacts List, so... thanks, I guess."

Congratulations Well, in honesty, a paper card probably won't add a whole lot of sincerity to these. But at least the paper version has tabs under which freshly printed $20 bills (also paper--arguably) may be placed for that deserving graduate.

The love letter Love emails simply cannot compete with a hand written, paper enveloped, love letter. With a paper letter, you have personal details to study--neatness of the letter, handwriting style, possibly an aroma. You can tell, to some extent, how much care was invested in writing the letter. Are there mistakes (remember, no spellcheck)? If so, were they ignored, crossed out, whited-out, or just overlooked? The perfect handwriting, spelling, and grammar may indicate that there were discarded drafts, and therefore extra time involved in crafting the letter. Besides, without handwritten love letters, what would people do with empty shoe boxes?

Fresh meats (and other consumables) Your butcher knows: nothing is sexier than red meat--nothing, that is, except red meat wrapped neatly in thick, bleached white, butcher paper (Tip: use plain white paper tape for added sexiness). In addition to meats and fishes, paper adds a certain je ne sais quoi to other food and drink. If you've ever had the local party store put your bottle of Beefeater in a plastic sack, you understand, by contradiction, my point.

The book Here it is... the inspiration behind today's post: I said to someone this week, "I am reading The Prestige," a novel by Christopher Priest. I lied.

The truth: I have been listening to the audio book, The Prestige, as I drive to and from work, each day. This is... not reading. I didn't intend to lie--I don't think. But, I realized, as soon as I said the word "reading" that I wasn't. And I did not correct myself. Am I ashamed?--yes. Reading a book is worth twice the points of listening to one. Why? It is simply an axiom of sexiness.

The journal Finally... we address the very medium with which I convey these thoughts--the journal. Or, to, again, use the parlance of our times--the blog. The very term, "blog" is pragmatic, ugly, and utterly un-sexy. By comparison, a hand written journal--perhaps leather bound, with flowing script, occasional smudges, quaint illustrations, and relevant addenda cached within its pages--is, immeasurably, sexier.

It seems, though, that sexy is but a luxury. And though we would like hand-written love letters, french baguettes in brown paper sacks, and all of the other niceties, we settle for audio books, shrink wrapped meats, and Honda Accords.

I am George--the real George

I am in the middle of a novel by Caitlin Macy--The Fundamentals of Play. I am literally in the middle. Page 145 of 289.

The book has been lying, spine up, open to page 145 for weeks. I am just not interested. But I feel I've invested to much to give up now.

I don't like the characters: George (who also narrates), Chat, Harry, and Kate. The very names reek of pomposity. I think I might like George... but I like the real guy. The actual person Caitlin Macy went to school with. He is me--I think. A "too nice" guy who, I am certain, will get screwed by page 289--and not in a good way.

He is the only guy in the story you can root for to get good-way screwed, but he never will, because he's not exciting enough for Caitlin--or Kate. Kate likes the bad boys. Not the bad, bad boys... but the Wall Street and yacht club bad boys. The rich-brat jerks.

Early in the book, I found it easy to forget that George was the narrator--it feels like a girl is telling the story (which, of course, she is). But when Caitlin writes Kate, the story feels right--makes sense. It makes sense when she writes Kate, because Kate doesn't make sense. She feels complex; real. George, on the other hand, makes perfect sense--and is therefore not real. I know this because--well... he is me.

Coffee, irregular

I am still experimenting with a new burr grinder and a coffee press. I don't have it down yet--and it's especially hard to judge now that I have run out of cream. I am not used to black coffee, so it is hard to say if I've done it right. I am certain that my coffee doesn't come close to Old Crown Roasters' consistently delicious brews.

A pourover brewer is en route. Maybe that will help.

Meanwhile--back to today's coffee. I've messed it up, somehow. The first few sips seemed okay--while it was still piping hot. After it cooled for just a minute or so, it became sour. Very nasty.

Googling "why does my coffee taste sour?" brought up top listing, faqs, which points to a site called Merlo Coffee. There it explains, "All coffee makers are designed to only be used for the maximum. I.e. no half plungers, no half stovetops!" (yikes... an exclamation point--danger) So, maybe that is my problem--I have been using a relatively large coffee press to make only a single cup of coffee. But I have gotten some decent results as well as some poor ones--so there must be more to it than press size.

Shrug. I am, for now, at a loss.

Across the Universe: Romance, history lesson, musical.

As a romance, Across the Universe is unspectacular. Why did Jude find Lucy so attractive? She was blonde, I guess.

As a history lesson, it is trite.

And as a musical, it is, well... a musical. Which is to say it is sometimes fun, and oftentimes embarrassing--kind of like a crazy mom.

On the plus side, the film does feature covers of and references to one of the great bands across the universe.

I write

Today I sent out some mail. I made some coffee (a nice Ethiopian with blueberry nuances). I rummaged through the cupboards, looking for food.

After deciding that I had nothing suitable for breakfast, I walked down to Cindy's Diner (Cindy and John were at their grandson's wedding and the diner was closed, said a paper sign hung in the door). I returned home and verified that I was correct and that, indeed, I did not have any food suitable for breakfast. I decided to hold out for lunch. 

I made some more coffee. I called Grandpa Bill. I did the laundry. I opened the windows. I watered the plant (yes, plant--singular).

Around noon, I walked down to the Chinese take-out place. I returned home and enjoyed some dumplings and hot & sour soup while I watched Across the Universe (see review in next post).

I basically did nothing all day. But these things, to me, were significant.

I've been ignoring, or delaying, many of the things I did today. Returning phone calls, doing laundry, opening windows--walking--these are the activities of people who do things. I am a person who merely exists. Many nights, at about 8:30 PM I start to wonder if I would be too ashamed of myself to just go to bed then, instead of trying to come up with something else to do that I probably am not going to enjoy all that much anyway.

So what makes today different? Well, yesterday I had lunch with another guy in the IT department. Our discussion landed on weekend activities. When it was my turn to share, I had to think--"I watch a lot of movies," I said lamely.

I watch a lot of movies. That was all I had.

Here I was talking to this IT guy, a validation analyst--who, based on his job description, should be a pretty boring guy. But this guy, first of all, works longer hours than me. He doesn't usually get holidays off, and his job is way more stressful than mine. He should be exhausted all the time. But his weekend activities include swim meets with the kids, baking bread, CAD moonlighting, and farming. Yes... the guy is a farmer!--a bread baking farmer who spends time with his family. "I watch movies--pleased to meet you."

So, I've decided to do some things. Don't get me wrong; I will still be watching movies--let's not get too radical. But I will also do these little things that people do--go for walks, open windows, chat with friends. And, to my point: I've decided to start a journal--a blog, to use the parlance of our times--and here it is.