Showing posts with label coffee. Show all posts
Showing posts with label coffee. Show all posts

Saturday, June 17, 2023

When the rain comes

 



A great cup of coffee, raging fire, sound of light rain drops on the forest. And a four-day-old earache, relentlessly slapping me, trying to pull me out of this moment. I hate pain. It works hard in so many different ways to take center stage in my life. This morning I am engaged in an all-out battle with it. 


The rain holds off for about 3 hours but then inevitably yields a forecast too bad to be wrong. It is a great sound, rain on the canopy, and the crackle of the fire. We had to retreat from the warmth of the fire because of the rain. Now it only provides sound and visual effects.


I knew this was coming. Don’t act surprised. The song The Rain opens up days passed in my life. Rainy days usually. My childhood, my sisters.


It would be a crime to deny myself this sensory experience. The sounds of the rain are quadraphonic (surround sound for you millennials). It is a testament to our creator's power. The world can grow on one drop of rain at a time, and the same drop can wipe everything out of existence.


My pain has now been squelched by anti-inflammatory drugs and antihistamines. It was getting to the point where it was all I was.


The age differential between us and people who stopped having children by the time they were 30 has been fascinating. At 50, those people talk of downsizing and retirement and taking more seasoned sort of vacations. When you start having kids around 40, it is a different world. At 55, I was thinking about an Appalachian trail thru-hike in the next 5 to 10 years. 


A year ago, I got Covid. When you live in so much pain, denial is a wonderful ally. A year later, I am acutely aware that I have long Covid. My energy is tapped right out. But, you know me, my rage and fight inside is relentless. Even this, I do not accept.


So the pattern emerges in my existence: a pattern of denial and rationalization. As a young man, this was a far more damaging quality, today, a mechanism for survival.


It’s funny the things we hear in the rain. I suspect there are no hiding places. Rightly so. It is like a journey to a land where pain and age exist. During our stay, those circumstances would be the only ones we would have to deal with. 


The rain ebbs and flows as it wishes, setting the rules as it sees fit. Really, why fight it? In 2018, I recall Ben Crawford saying as he was hiking the AT with his wife and six kids: “When it first starts raining, it feels like such a betrayal. But, eventually, you begin to barely notice it as you somehow become part of it.”


Friday, June 16, 2023

It’s coffee time


 The coffee watch is on. Those eternal moments in which the combination of propane stove and coffee, percolator make so much noise. It is almost industrial. But then that grand entrance with that first appearance of clear water into the glass perk top shows up, accentuated by the sound of perking coffee that in my recollection does not sound like anything else on earth except maybe the sound of a distant steam locomotive pulling a hill.


I turn down the burner so low, the flame is on the edge of not even being there. This is the careful process of massage, the art of creating amazing coffee in a traditional percolator. If I had it my way, I would still make coffee this way every single day as if it were 1977. This busy world challenges ideas like that with “essential tasks” that we have been re-programmed into thinking that they are indeed essential.

The forecast for this weekend is riddled with rain, showers, and storms. Thankfully, I am watching this coffee perk and the birds are singing. The sun is shining through the trees, and the mosquitoes are doing their best to ruin it.


I know I’m coming to the point where the coffee is perked enough, bliss awaits. But first, silence. Letting that pot rest for about 4 minutes seals the perfection.


As I wait, the remaining sounds are children’s voices in the distance and a couple of woodpeckers that are so loud they must be robotic woodpeckers. 


Now just birds singing sweetly all around. My friends, it’s coffee time.

Sunday, October 24, 2021

When you're down and low...

 I woke up Monday to learn that my friend Jim McLean died of COVID-19. Jim was a friend from the early 80s when I used to camp at lone Oak campgrounds in East Canaan Connecticut. I was close friends with his sister and he was close friends with my cousin Gary. His poor family is now having to carry on without him. Damn these people who have politicized a vaccine!  It’s been a hard week. 

On Wednesday, we had to put our Bogey down. I just can’t believe he is gone. I hate this. He was so much more than a pet to our family. I need downtime now. Before the frenzied race to winter begins in the fall. 

Tuesday. I really did not sleep last night. Tormented by the thoughts of Jim’s beautiful family having to move on without him.

There appears to be an obstruction in my ability to write on this trip. It came so easily when we were at Killington. I dare say that some of the paragraphs written were some of the best stuff I have done. I will be patient though as I think it will happen. Until then I just sittin'
waiting for the bus all day. So many sounds, mowing way off in the distance, wind rustling, tarps blowing, crows crawling, chickadees, water sounds, eggs boiling, noises from the camper.

It is now Wednesday, September 1st. Good morning. Sour Girl by Stone Temple pilots from 2000 is in my head. It was a song written about someone name Jeanette Jania. Another long night with hardly any sleep. Soon we will be out and everything down for the winter beyond the sound of the river there is the subtle undercurrent that the diabolical forces of winter await. 

September 1, they now begin stepping this way.  Don't you dare say that it cannot happen even now?  I have had seen snow very early in the season in my life. The earliest I have ever seen it was on September 11, 1979. 4 inches fell in Bristol Connecticut that day.

The coffee now officially begins to perk. The sound and the smells of coffee perking in a true percolator, on an open flame, are some of the finest interactions with our senses there can ever be. Decades ago everyone knew how to make coffee correctly (passive-aggressive dig intended I guess).  Around 75ish, a few people had automatic drip coffee makers or Mr. Coffees as they were referred to back then. But they were a joke. Lukewarm, weak, and plasticky. A disgusting assault compared to that stovetop bliss they left behind.   

So I started reading Kitchen Confidential by Anthony Bourdain. I must say that I am severely impressed with Mr. BourdAin’s stark honesty to admit the things that everyone else is too internally shocked. The honesty makes the rooms take on an almost holographic materialization. 

At times I wish I could go back to 1982 and kick myself right in the rear end. I’d like to believe that all of this literary regurgitation somehow is blog-worthy at some point. Isn’t that right Mr. Terry Ward? When I think of the hours that I spent reading Terry’s bleeding heart hemorrhaging off of computer dot matrix tractor paper by the light of a kerosene lamp in the cabin in East Alstead!  Wow!  My dad too was finding an interest in this person that was doing the same job as him and making a little bread on the side by sharing his hippie generation manifesto. As the pages rolled out of the printer, Terry found and then lost love much to our own discomfort as readers. But we stuck with you, Terry. Something about you was so maverick, that eventually, you graduated to a blog. The Internet bringing forward so many others just like you. There in Langdon New Hampshire, a tragic star was born or perhaps fell off the back of a truck. 

Nevertheless, we loved you, Terry, in all your whiny self lamentations. Why? Because somewhere in you, each of us saw ourselves. You, who did not worry about how embarrassing it was to bear your naked soul to strangers. We were thinking it, but we were too scared to say it. LinkedIn says that Terry Ward has published Notes from the Dump for 34 years and 11 months now. Yes, that is November 1986 through the present day. Terry is listed as going to the high school of Hard Knocks High 1957 through 1962. Terry is a reminder that we can all bring something new to the world yes anyone can, even you.

Friday, April 30, 2021

The Coffee Chronicles

 

 I like to hike. I also love my coffee. While I can get away with choking down instant coffee on the trail, there is nothing like freshly brewed coffee to make that experience so much more robust. In 2018 when the Crawford family was hiking the Appalachian Trail, Ben Crawford the dad, mentioned people that he saw using an Aeropress coffee maker and made the statement I feel like I’m missing out on something.

Ben's words intrigued me and I had no choice but to buy one on Amazon. If you don’t know what an AeroPress is,  the best way to describe it is like a wide syringe that holds coffee grounds and water and after a rest time allows you to push the water out into your cup using the syringe plunger. I then took the aero press with me on a family canoe trip and impressed myself and others with this amazing coffee. 

Three years have passed. Many pieces of hiking gear that I bought three years ago have not been used in quite some time. When it comes to cooking, this can be very detrimental. When I don’t practice all the time with my food preparation for the trail, it usually ends with me taking a homemade backpacking meal with me, only to take two bites out of it and declare it inedible. So now for two days, I have been making my morning coffee in the aero press as opposed to my normal French press. And I am currently struggling to make that perfect cup of coffee. In the first 20 minutes of my day, believe me, so many times I want to turn back and run to the safety of my French press.


But I am determined. I will scrape and claw my way into fantastic coffee making in this aero press device. In doing so I will become a mentor in the art of making coffee in this way. My motives are selfish but how many others will be thankful that I was?

A Walk Down Memory Lane

It is more than selfish, however. When you think of all the different ways that you have had coffee. In my generation, people perked coffee in electric percolators on tabletops, glass Pyrex percolators on the stove, and aluminum percolators on the stove that were sold for a dollar and a half in the grocery store. Then the mid-1970s saw the introduction of the Mr. coffee automatic drip coffee maker. To my recollection, this made a slightly higher than a lukewarm cup of coffee that tasted somewhat like coffee and a lot like plastic. In the first half a decade it was out it was a novelty and no one really took it seriously. It was a copycat of the Bun-style coffee makers that you saw at diners.

I remember at 13 years old I could make coffee in the morning on the old gas and gas stove while my mom got ready for work. She trained me well and I knew exactly when to turn the burner down so as not to boil over the coffee. To this day perking coffee on a stovetop is still a fine way to brew a cup.

During the 1980s the coffee maker became more prevalent and taken seriously. Advances in technology helped with the plastic taste and the temperature. Perhaps a sacrificing of standards coupled with the world getting busier helped.  

The War


By the time we got to 1990, I found myself shipped out to the Middle East during the Gulf War. I procured a large bottle of instant Nescafé instant and a four-dollar Chinese cookstove that burned anything except gasoline and used the equivalent of mop strings to wick flames through a vented double-wall heat tube to create a blue flame. This type of stove is better known today as the butterfly stove and I still have one in the garage for sentimental reasons.

In the desert, I’ve seen people make coffee in many ways including on dried camel poop. Believe me when someone says "sorry about the coffee" I can honestly say, “I’ve had worse“.

Diabolical Atrocities

Although tolerance in different stages of quality of the coffee will change with your situation at the time, there is one thing that is completely unacceptable when it comes to coffee. I am serious as a heart attack here. It is never acceptable not to have it. When all of the grand plans are made whether you are an individual going for a backpacking trip or going out on a family camping trip in your car or a business executive traveling from hotel to hotel or a national guard unit away at Fort Devens for the weekend in 1993, you will have coffee. No excuses. No apologies. No tolerance. Even if you were a Lieutenant in charge of a platoon in the United States Army, it is your responsibility to make sure that the people in your command have this one thing before you ask them to do anything else.


The lieutenant in this story in my opinion completely failed in his life mission. That Sunday morning when we were awakened from sleep made to sit in Army trucks on a cold gray Sunday morning in the Springtime, and sit there and wait for whatever it is we were waiting for. They pathetically handed us a stupid MRE (Meal Ready to Eat)  through the window. Again, absolutely not acceptable. If you have ever drunk the disgusting package of instant coffee that comes with an MRE with cold or lukewarm water, you would know that this is not coffee.

I don’t know if anybody remembers who was with me that day but I took a vow that I have held to for the rest of my life since that day. I promised that as long as I was around, the people around me would never go without coffee in the morning, never in the rest of my life. Thus far I have not broken that vow.

Y2K

In the aforementioned Gulf War, during the push into western Iraq, we basically lived the Gilligan's Island "3 Hour Tour" scenario.  A 36-hour mission that really took days taught me better than anything ever before about the personal responsibility to be prepared.  At the tail end of the '90s the new millennium was coming and maybe, so was Y2K.  In the summer of 1999, a supercell thunderstorm assaulted Claremont New Hampshire where I lived at the time.  A storm strong enough to take down the power for 4 days in West Claremont and level the gazebo on the town common.  I worked in White River Junction Vermont at the time.  On the day of the storm, I already know that my house at the top of East Green Mountain had no power (and unfortunately had an electric stove).  I decided as I drove down Washington St which is the local business district in Claremont, I would stop at one of the local fast-food restaurants because they did have power.



When I walked into each restaurant, it appeared that riots had ensued and people were screaming and having tantrums!  McDonalds looked like someone purposely emptied the napkin and straw dispensers and maybe even a trash can onto the open floor.  They were out of food and could not take many orders for popular items.  The patrons did not understand in a peaceful manner.  I moved onto KFC.  They actually killed their equipment trying to keep up, from what they said, but I wondered if maybe the storm might have been related.  Restaurant after another I tried to get food, to no avail. The thing I noticed the most though, was how fragile and explosive people were acting.  So post-apocalyptic!  For just a power outage!  Then, my real fear rose.  What if the embedded switches DO fail on January 1st, 2000.  What if the grid does go down.  In 1999 the internet was basically in its "toddler" stage and information was bad.  More so, the programs coming in from the shortwave radio underworld in which I had been a part of since the 1970s, was warning everyone, "Get out of the cities, get out of the cities, get out of the cities."

I am not going to be unprepared so I started sale buying just a little extra here and there.  One of the sales that kept reoccurring in 1999 at the local Market Basket was Beechnut Coffee for a mere 99 cents a pound.  I thought this would make a great doomsday coffee!  Besides, say it with me..."I've had worse." Or so I thought.




My friend Nick and I had shared many days in years past trying different coffee, all of it was finer and absolutely not Beechnut.  He was amused by this collection of doomsday coffee and wrote a wonderful list of alternate things you can do with Beechnut Coffee.  The most memorable suggestion was: "Your kitty likes it too!"

Of course, we all survived Y2K and lots of people got rich, me not being one of them.  I did try the "coffee" if you could call it that.  I can certainly say that Jack's Camel Dung Nescafe Instant in Saudi Arabia was much better than this.  So, it sat around for a while.  In mid-2001, my not-yet wife Donna was house-sitting for some friends of ours.  We were talking on the phone and she suddenly sort of choked and said, "Oh, this Beechnut Coffee is terrible!"  I was elated, "Beechnut Coffee?" I asked.  "I will be over in a half-hour."

I gathered every last can of it and brought it to our friend's house and proceeded to build a pyramid of doomsday coffee on their kitchen table.  They were happy, I was happy and the most important thing, we did not waste anything, although I think the "kitty" idea could have fallen into the recycling category.

I digress...


So, it's day 3.  I have stepped up my efforts to make an excellent Aeropress cup of coffee.  I even read 2 articles that differed from each other to gain a better understanding. (Is your head singing John Mellencamp's "Check It Out"?  Mine is).  I am far from arriving at the Master Brewer status that I long for.  But I am going to get it.  I promise.  It is too important because I know:



Wide Awake in Dreamland

 ...your guardian angel gives up the ghost.                                                                               -Between Two Point...