Be Better Guys

When I was a teenager, my late step-mother worked for the Coffee Development Group, a lobbying organization on K Street in Washington, DC. She loved coffee and would bring home some of the best coffees on the planet for her and my dad to enjoy. With several distinct types of beans and literally dozens of varietals, coffee had the best scent I’d ever encountered.  I loved the smell of it in the house and swore that when I grew up, I’d keep fresh coffee around. Keep in mind at this point, I never drank it.

A few years later when I was in college and coffee was a necessity to make it through the long nights of study, I’d enjoy a cup of the good stuff at home, but existed off of Folger’s and whatever swill there was at the cafeteria. Working at restaurants, I began to recognize the subtle differences, but still didn’t get back to the sweet nectar that I’d experienced until I bought my first real coffee maker—a cafeteria from Italy. Suddenly, I understood that I wasn’t ever going back to swill. At least at home I wouldn’t. Once I learned how to get that perfect cup of coffee from the aluminum octagonal pot, it was all over from then on. My current weapon of choice is the French Press for a robust full cup with a bit of sediment from the grounds (I like that).

We, as a society, live on coffee now. Baristas can earn a living brewing perfect shots of the bean and fruit discovered to make goats so hyperactive in Ethiopia (or so the myth goes). The first coffee revolution took place in the 1600s, as part of the dawn of the modern world. Next, the counter-revolution in American society saw the young and distrustful gather to drink and discuss the changing world (this could be applied to multiple periods in American and world history, but let’s stick with the 60s). Then a seaport named after an Indian king spawned a generation of coffee fiends and literally thousands of coffee shops around the world. Yet, most of us drink some of the most ungodly swill imaginable, because like everything that’s become mass-produced, we get the lowest common denominator, warm, brown liquid with a roasted aftertaste. Brothers, it doesn’t have to be that way. You may not control the air pots in your office, or the banks of Mr. Coffee machines in kitchens around the globe, but you can make a better cup of coffee with what’s available in most offices, a microwave. Oh, you’ll need the coffee of your choice, and a French Press.

Choose a French Press (or Pot Press) in the size you deem best. I have a 20 oz press (an odd size), good for nearly two 12 oz. mugs of coffee. Use 2 heaping tablespoons of finely ground coffee to the pot (I use a tablespoon/cup). Also, I use a grind finer than drip; I prefer espresso grind, but that means more sediment in the cup. I’m partial to Sumatra Mandheling, Mocha Harrar, darker roasts and fuller tastes. If you have a burner, use a tea kettle, but if at work heat your water in a microwave for at least 1 minute, just before boiling (212° F, 100° C). Pour the water over the grounds.  Place the plunger on, but don’t depress it. Allow the coffee to steep for 3-5 minutes; stir once or twice after a minute. Depress the plunger, pour out a perfect cup of coffee.

This is my Sunday morning, on my porch shortly after sunrise cup of coffee. The scene may differ for you, but the brew doesn’t have to.