Roastmaster's Blog

TOP 10 coffee gifts

I'm sure you're scrambling to figure out what to buy for certain people on your holiday gift list.  You've probably been googling to see what cool new gifts are out there for people who love coffee, and who doesn't love coffee?  Well, google no more.  I have compiled a list of my TOP 10.  The top 10 things that, if I didn't own the DoubleShot, but I were still me, I would be stoked about getting for Christmas (which makes shopping for ME a lot harder).  Here it is, David Letterman -style: from number 10 to number 1!

10. A DoubleShot gift card. If you just have no idea what to get, but you know they like coffee, get them a gift card. Buy a card in the DoubleShot or buy one online HERE. We can even email you a coupon to send to your favorite coffee drinker so they can buy on our website!

9.  The new DoubleShot Corporate Mastermind Tshirt!  You know your friend loves the DoubleShot.  Get them a shirt so they can let everyone else know.  It's the new design, it's just arrived, and it comes in two colors:  blueberry or split pea soup.

8.  The Thermos Sipp stainless steel travel tumbler is the most popular cup we've ever sold.  They're so popular that it's hard to keep them in stock.  Rightfully so.  All we get is positive feedback from these awesome cups.  They keep coffee hot for hours and hours, they don't leak, they're indestructible, and they come with the stylish DoubleShot logo right there on the side.  This cup has been missing from our shelves for a few days, but the new shipment will be here today.  Order now, or stop in to get one before they all go bye bye again! 

7.  The DoubleShot proprietary coffee travel kit.  I've been using one over the past year, and it's just been a lifesaver on the road.  I got the idea when I was packing for my trip to Tanzania, and it took me a few months after my return to fabricate the missing link to the whole kit:  The Connect3 Adaptor Ring.  This ring, which I construct by hand right here in the DoubleShot basement, makes it possible to screw the Hario Skerton hand grinder directly onto a Nalgene bottle (I prefer this stainless steel version), so you can grind and brew with the H2JO right in the bottle.  Saves tons of space and makes brewing on the road a piece of cake.  See a video of how it all works here:  http://www.doubleshotcoffee.com/products/connect3-adaptor-ring

6.  Gooseneck kettle.  I've been using one of these kettles for so long that whenever I try to make a pourover without it, I remember how much I like my kettle.  Available in electric or stovetop models.

5.  Everything you need to make a pourover (except the kettle).  Get your friend a Hario V60 pourover cone, some filters, and the DoubleShot filter crib to keep the cone filters neatly stacked on your counter, and they'll be in coffee paradise.  This is the method and the equipment I use every day to make my coffee, so you know I think it's good.  There's really no need to own an auto-drip if you're patient enough to make coffee by hand.  It's so much better.  Watch a video of how it works:  http://www.doubleshotcoffee.com/products/hario-v60-dripper

 4.  A burr grinder.  I've often said that, second to great coffee beans, the biggest difference I've ever noticed in my coffee brewing has been in the grinder I'm using.  Anyone using a blade grinder to whirly chop their coffee to smithereens is not getting the most out of their coffee.  A burr grinder uses a set of grinding disks that adjust to grind consistently coarse or fine, depending on your brewing method.  A consistent grind size will change anyone from a coffee drinker into a coffee taster.

3.  Subscription!  Get someone signed up for our automatic coffee shipments.  One pound of coffee will be shipped to them either weekly, bi-weekly, or monthly for 6 or 12 times.  They'll remember you each time a pound of coffee shows up at their door, and they'll thank you every time they see you.  Sign up online and we'll get started shipping whenever you say the word.

2.  Maduro coffee beans plus a MADURO chocolate bar.  This is THE gift for someone who is a coffee and chocolate lover.  The Maduro, an exclusive natural coffee from Colombia (only available at the DoubleShot), is just an amazing coffee, and since we're always trying to push the envelope, we teamed up with a chocolatier to produce a chocolate bar made with Belgian dark chocolate and bits of crushed-up Maduro coffee beans, roasted right here at the DoubleShot roastery.  Satisfy two vices with one awesome gift.

And the number one gift on my list this year is...

1. The Perci Red/Lycello box set.  THIS is the ULTIMATE gift.  The best gift ever.  It's a 2 Barrel Project double wooden box, containing the Perci Red experience and the Lycello experience.  This set is extremely limited and will only be produced as they are ordered, so order yours today.  If you want this before Christmas, you'll have to get it done asap.  My dad has been nice enough to build some more Double-boxes for this awesome gift set, so you still have time to get one, but you should hurry.  The box is solid and beautiful, and the lid is etched with the DoubleShot and 2 Barrel Project logos.  Two Gesha coffees, one washed and one natural, in one box - and each with their own cup!  (If I can't have this, I'll have one of each, Lycello and Perci Red.)

 Happy holidays!

Perci Red

The first time I took a vacation as an adult, I had never really been anywhere besides Illinois, Oklahoma, Louisiana and the couple states in between.  So when it occurred to me to go somewhere, my options seemed limitless.  I eventually settled on Moab, Utah, because I was really into mountain biking and everyone knows that Moab is the "Mecca" of mountain biking.  So I packed up my bike and began this pilgrimage into a vast and mysterious territory.  I had never been in the mountains, nor desert, but I did grow up in farm country much like the scenery during the first 9 hours of my drive.

I didn't do much research about Moab, other than finding it on a map, because Moab is legendary.  Without a naysayer, the mountain bikers who have ridden Moab say it's Mecca, and the people who haven't ridden it either want to or are too scared.  I knew that Moab is in the desert.  So I had this image in my head of a desert.  The desert of Lawrence of Arabia.  Of Captain Riley's "Skeletons on the Sahara" and of my roadtrip to Little Sahara in Northwest Oklahoma during my first year in college.  Of the great, 1,000-foot dunes of Namibia.  And I wondered how people could ride their mountain bikes through sand as deep as a camel's knee, but I never questioned that they did; I just didn't know how yet.  

The drive from Tulsa to Moab is a dogleg north and straight west for hours through wheat fields and sunflower farms.  And then, on the horizon, the Rocky Mountains appear through the haze over Denver.  I camped as soon as the sun set, up on a 4WD road, and I awoke to a mountainside matrix of white trees, which I assumed were aspens.  Needless to say, the next few hours were some of the most amazing miles of my life.  I stopped frequently to look around and take pictures of landscape completely foreign to my corn-fed eyes.  And then the western slope.  And I entered Utah.  

When I turned off I-70 onto Highway 128 and traversed the ledge overlooking the Colorado River, Moab became real to me.  It was no longer a sandy, barren expanse of dunes, but this amazing, ominous land of cliffs and canyons and arches and rock formations of every unimaginable shape.  It became ride-able and beautiful and real, and better than I could've ever imagined.

And honestly, that's the way I feel about Perci Red.  For you, right now, coffee may have a certain Saharan stigma as a bitter, bland, caffeine-saturated eye-opener.  Perci Red will change your mind.  Even if you are a die-hard DoubleShot fan, and you've enjoyed the variety of coffees we offer, from the blackberry notes of our Natural Sidamo to the heavy smoke and herbals of Sumatra Aceh Gold, Perci Red will open your mind to what coffee can be.  It will change your perspective.

Perci Red is a natural Gesha coffee from Ninety Plus Gesha Estates in Volcan, Panama.  It's the sister of our washed Gesha, Lycello.  It has all the amazing flavors of jasmine and lemon and tea and milk chocolate that you tasted in the Lycello, but it has a complex stratus of flavors lingering over that base - black cherry and cranberry and mace.  Layers of complexity are the hallmark of Perci Red, and the aromas are just stunning.

When I visited Panama last January, I was able to taste the fruit of the Gesha trees and watch the coffee pickers carefully selecting only the ripest cherries.  I saw the meticulous nature by which the workers harvested and cared for the coffee.  I made my way to nearby Finca Hartmann, where the coffee was laid out on African raised beds, so the cherries could dry evenly in the sun.  And I experienced the unusual sounds and fragrances and tastes and sights that emanate from the Panamanian rainforest, which all contribute to the terroir of Perci Red.  

The coffee beans are red.  Most unroasted coffee beans are green or bluish-green or yellowish-green, but mostly green.  But the ever-curious instigators of coffee quality at Ninety Plus Coffee decided to separate these beans that mysteriously turned red in processing.  Or maybe they were born red.  And they hand-selected all the red beans from the lot of green ones, creating the coffee we have and hold in such high prestige.  The red ones turned out to be so much more intense and unique and complex from the rest of the lot.  And of the 330 pounds in existence today, we bought 132.  This is the coffee that we have chosen to offer this holiday season.

As part of the 2 Barrel Project, we took this amazing coffee and created an experience around it.  I worked with Tulsa potter, Teresa Rechter, to produce a cup that met my specifications for one that is uniquely suited for drawing out all that Perci Red has to give.  The shape of the cup cradles the Perci Red just right and draws all of its magical aromas into your mouth and nose.  The cup is accompanied by a booklet I wrote that tells all about the origin of Perci Red, and the proper brewing method for the coffee, as well as a food pairing that is just going to rock your world.  All this, with 200 grams of our Perci Red, craft roasted right here at the DoubleShot, held in an amber glass bottle and encased in a custom Perci Red wooden box, build with the tools and vision of Paul McEntire, the creator of the North American Wood Amp.  The Perci Red experience is ready, and you should reserve yours today.  

Buy Perci Red online here:  www.DoubleShotCoffee.com/red

You are invited to our free tasting this Saturday, December 8 at 10:30 a.m. right here at the DoubleShot.  It's open to the public and completely free, so bring your family and friends.  I'll talk about the coffee, show you the goods, and we'll all enjoy a taste of the Perci Red and the food pairing that really amplifies this coffee.

Thanks for being a part of all that we do here at the DoubleShot.  We do it for you, and we hope you enjoy the fruits of our labor this holiday season.  Take some time off.  Take some deep breaths, and retreat from life with a cup of Perci Red.  Happy holidays.

Lycello

I opened the box, and there, rested on a bed of aspen wood, lay an amber bottle.  And a cup, crafted to a particular shape.  And inside, the bottle contained a symphony of flavors and aromas that is Gesha.

Experience: The 2 Barrel Project

It's raining and about the time the sun would set, but for the storm clouds.  I've opened a window at both ends of the house, so I'm listening to the disjointed pittering and pattering of two different rainfalls in stereo.  Inside, my house is made of hardwoods and leathers and antiques and sticks I brought home from Colorado and I'm currently reclining on a dark chocolate Chesterfield sofa in front of the idle fireplace.  And the whole situation begs for one thing.

I ruminate over my humidor and finally decide on a very nice cigar from Jaime Garcia (that's HY-may).  Every bit of a 66 guage (1 1/32" diameter), this barrel of a cigar smokes cool and flavorful.  But when it's time to perform my pre-smoke ritual of cutting, feeling how moist and tightly wrapped the tobacco is, and tasting the dry-draw, I was surprised to see the tip pre-clipped.  I love my Xikar cutter, and I felt a bit sad it didn't make a showing at tonight's performance.

There's something to the rituals we perform when we partake in things we enjoy, and I can't help thinking these little ceremonies are part of the enjoyment.  I can appreciate the professional cut on the conical cap of this Reserva Especial, giving me the draw Jaime intended when designing this cigar, and I can appreciate the simplicity and sealability of a screw cap on a bottle of Martin Ray Pinot Noir; but I love the part of wine drinking that is cutting the foil and pulling the cork.  And leaving my corkscrew out of the game is poor form.

That's one thing I love about making coffee.  It's not enough to scoop ground coffee into an auto-drip; there's an experience here that is missing.  Like preparing to smoke a cigar or drink wine or have a cocktail (You don't use an auto-cocktail-maker, do you?), preparing to drink coffee has its own set of unique rituals.  The most famous coffee ritual is in Ethiopia.  The ceremony involves roasting, pulverizing, boiling a couple of times, and drinking together.  My coffee ceremony usually involves a hot water dispenser, an electric grinder, a pourover cone, and my special cup.  I enjoy making coffee by hand.  It's simple, whether it be a pourover or presspot or aeropress, or any number of methods available today, and hand-brewing changes coffee from a drink into an experience.  A ritual.  A ceremony.

I grew up going to a church on Wednesday nights and twice on Sundays that sang old hymns and baptized in a pool before the congregation.  We knelt to pray and sat quietly while the minister preached lessons from historical accounts of the Bible.  Evangelists evoked images of fire and brimstone, and camp meeting every summer was held in an open-sided tabernacle where sweat accumulated and flies were attendant.  As I got older, the church modernized and exchanged hymns for prayer choruses, history for funny stories, and kneeling for standing, suits for chambray.  And the rules of the church, the rituals of the church, the ceremonies were exchanged for a book on How to Grow Your Church.  The simple act of kneeling to pray exhibits a reverence that I felt was lost.

That's the reverence and ritual I want to bring to you with coffee.  No kneeling or praying is required, but just taking that extra effort in your coffee-making will make the experience more rewarding.  The coffee will taste better and you'll feel more connected to the process.  Take the time to smell the beans when you open the bag.  To boil some water and then grind the coffee and linger over its fragrances for a moment.  Brewing is a craft.  It's a romantic and simple craft and it will open the door to an enjoyment of coffee you've never experienced.  Your coffee-drinking should be an experience.

The 2 Barrel Project:  micro-lot experiences

We're focusing on that experience even more with a series of super-coffees starting next month.  The DoubleShot Coffee experience for you at home is going to be magnificent with each of these unique micro-lot coffees.  Each one will come to you with accompaniments and tasting notes and brewing instructions that will elevate already-amazing coffees, so you can get the most out of the whole ritual.  Look out for this new series we're calling the 2 Barrel Project*, commencing in a big way with a Gesha from Volcan, Panama.

And in the mean time, pick up a pourover or a presspot or an aeropress at the DoubleShot and add a little ceremony to your coffee time.

* Named for our Jabez Burns 2 barrel sample roaster, where we discover great coffees in 200 gram batches.

Percolating

I turned off the air conditioner in my house five days ago.  Yesterday the temperature crept up into the nineties outside, and in my house, the insulation I so fervently felt I needed made sure to keep that thermal energy from escaping.  And so here I sit, sweating beneath the impotent, oscillating ceiling fans.  My body radiates in a futile attempt to generate a moisture barrier to cool my skin through evaporation, adding to the haze of humidity that permeates my lungs like second-hand smoke in a crowded bar.  I pick up where I left off on a dog-eared page of Out of Africa, hoping Karen Blixen will carry me off to a place where the heat seems justified.  And where I might crawl into bed under a translucent net to keep from the mosquitoes that so debilitated Henry Morton Stanley on his long trek across Tanganyika in search of Dr. Livingstone.

My legs are tired because my lungs don't work right because of this damned air conditioner.  And because I rode my bicycle 68 miles yesterday.  A twinge of pain in my knee.  And in my ankle, where I turned it on a rubber tire trying to reenact my youthful and more agile days of high school football.  And a scene drifts across my mind, as if a movie projected on the shadowy ceiling silhouetted by the outline of deer antlers, of Hemingway's gangrene-addled invalid adventurer in the Snows of Kilimanjaro.  

I've just finished another AA Cafe podcast, and I can still feel the hike and conversation with Steve Holt of Ninety Plus Gesha Estates on the farm, in the mountains, surrounded by rainforest, sweating in the unbroken rays of the midday sun.  Steve brings us up the mountain and around the largest Gesha farm in the world, describing the coffees of Panama; and across the Atlantic Ocean, across the dark continent, to the origin of coffee and of Ninety Plus to tease us with tastes of what's to come from Ethiopia this year.

Ethiopia is having a good year for coffee, and we hope to gather a nice crop from a variety of regions and processes (or of the influence of fruit, as Steve Holt defines it).  The newest of our Ethiopian coffees is from the Harrar region.  It's called Deep Blue, and it is a dry-processed coffee, which means the fruit had a large influence on the taste of the coffee.  This Harrar Deep Blue is a product of many very small farmers, who picked the coffee cherries when they ripened and laid them whole on mats and cement patios to dry and shrivel into coffee raisins in the high-elevation equatorial sun.  The coffee, from its terroir and its unique varieties and the weather that allowed the coffee to dry properly at each farmer's home, blends together to give us brilliant flavors of chocolate and blueberries and cinnamon.  So good.

Reminds me of an experiment we did back a couple years ago in Colombia, at the farm of Las Animas, where we asked Gabriel and Orfilia Escobar to let the fruit influence their coffee.  And I remember my visit last year to Concordia, when I rode in the back seat of a pickup truck over dirt roads, winding through coffee trees with no leaves bearing immature green fruit that would never ripen because of a fungus called the Eye of the Rooster.  We rolled up to Finca San Rafael, where Alfredo Correa tends his grandmother's coffee and has produced such an amazing product for us in the past, but instead of picking or milling or sorting coffee like Alfredo usually is during the harvest, we found him working on his motorcycle.  The Eye of the Rooster took 95% of Alfredo's crop and the sweat of all his years of toil dried up on the mountainside and was replaced with the sweat of a young man with almost nothing to show and no way to pay.  Somehow Alfredo produced one bag of super-high-end coffee this year that rivals the best washed coffees we've offered, and we have that bag.  It's a great example of fruit influence in a washed coffee.

I've just finished a cup and washed it down with a rinse of water and the taste instantly transported me to another sweaty time in college, working for my dad.  He is adamant that it must be hot inside in order to lay commercial floor covering, and so we worked on dirty concrete floors with scratchy carpets and heavy ceramic.  And all day long, we drank coffee out of the little metal-covered plastic lid that screws on the top of my dad's beat-up green metal thermos, on our breaks and in between our breaks; and when we needed some water, we would fill up that empty cup and the residual coffee would lend a distinct, mild, flavor to the water.  And the residual coffee in my mouth lent a coffee taste to everything.

The "coffee taste" can't be so easily generalized or genericized any more, as the variety of DoubleShot Coffees spans a breadth of flavors broader than all the Scotch of Scotland.  And even one coffee can become three (like the Holy Trinity) when extracted through different methods.  We are going to do just that.  One coffee, three brewing methods.  On June 28 at 7p here at the DoubleShot, we will premier Alfredo Correa's Colombia Finca San Rafael through pourovers, presspots, and espressos.  Three different stations will allow you to learn the method, pose questions of the barista, and enjoy the unique flavors that permeate each cup.  Alfredo's coffee has depth that is best explored through different types of extraction.

This event is brought to you by Coffee Illuminati, and proceeds will be used to build a swingset for the children at Ninety Plus Gesha Estates.  You can register for this event at the DoubleShot by talking to your barista or by emailing info@coffeeilluminati.com

Will Trade for Horse

It's Christmastime again. I've received a few cards in the mail. Most of them were not really cards, just dressed-up requests for money from one charity or another. That's irritating.
I remember when I was a kid, flipping through the JC Penny catalog, looking at all the toys, and I remember that unmistakable smell of the catalog pages and seeing pictures of such lucky kids getting to play with the coolest stuff ever, and I would find the letter that corresponded with the letter next to the picture and I would read all about the best ones. I would read the whole toy section of the catalog. And I remember writing down things I wanted and noting what page each thing was on, dog-earing the pages, so my parents could find it quickly and with the least amount of effort because less fuss maybe would mean they would find it easier and buy it for me and maybe since I made it so easy they would buy more stuff, as if they were on some sort of shopping time crunch. I remember always asking for a horse.
They bought us too much. My parents must've put on soft music and slowly filled my brother's bedroom with sleeping gas, where we were determined to stay up all night coloring in our coloring books, listening for Santa Claus, watching through the curtains for the red dot in the sky that was Rudolf and not some small aircraft flying over. And the next thing I knew, my brother would be waking me up on Christmas morning telling me that Santa had come while we were asleep, and I would run out and check to see if the milk and cookies we left for him on the table were gone because I knew if those were gone it was really Santa who had been there. And the living room was always filled with presents, wrapped in colorful paper and curly ribbons, so much that we had to tip toe around it all just to get close to the Christmas tree.
It seems hard to believe now, looking back, because now I know that we didn't have much money, and I just ascribe it all to my being so small and seeing things as being so much bigger and more plentiful then. I've no doubt that they spoiled us too much and suffered on our behalf in order to make us feel like we were special, like we were rich, like we were no different than everyone else. And it worked. My parents gave us more than we needed, and I can only guess how much they had to sacrifice in the course of it all. And, for the most part, we just felt lucky that Santa Claus was so generous.
So I guess this should be a time where we look back and think about the traditions we grew up with and smile at the silly memories of the Muppet Christmas record and Emmet Otter's Jug Band Christmas on the TV with the rabbit ears and the channel-change knob that sometimes had to be jiggled to keep the static away. And fighting over who got to put the first ornament on the tree, which, back then, still smelled like evergreen and dropped its pokey needles about our shag-carpeted living room.
Christmas should be a time to think about the people who have made us feel special and say thanks for caring.

This Christmas I want coffee.
Every year, we try to find unique coffees to sell over the holidays. This year we have two coffees to offer. One, we started selling at Thanksgiving and the feedback has been phenomenal. Kenya Peaberry Karimikui is a nutty, rich, savory coffee that lends itself amazingly well to traditional breakfast pairings. Kenyas have been hot coffees this year in the marketplace, and I selected this lot specifically because peaberries are unique anomalies in coffee, and my experience with Kenyas have taught me that peaberries are superior and I know you'll notice the difference in the cup.
The second coffee I'm offering this year is one you may have tasted by now. Tchembe is a coffee that was sourced by a company called Ninety Plus who is out working the front lines in Ethiopia, learning what makes coffee taste great, and implementing that knowledge for us to drink. Supplies of Tchembe are pretty slim because it's such an amazing coffee. Sweet, fruity, blackberry aromas emanate from the cup, accentuated by Belgian chocolate and banana esters like you'll find in Belgian beers. Definitely a smooth cup, one of my favorites, and a strong partner with desserts and fruity breakfast items.

Both of these coffees are extremely limited in their availability. We are selling both in commemorative 12-ounce quart cans, which are great for gift-giving and help to preserve the coffee from its environment, keeping it tasty. I only have 36 quarts of the Kenya and 85 quarts of Tchembe to sell.
There are two ways you can get them.
1) Take your chances and come in and hope we have some when the time comes.
2) Or guarantee yourself some by purchasing a voucher. Come in and pick one up at the counter or buy one (or however many you need until they run out) online.
Purchase your vouchers here for IN-STORE PICKUP after I roast:
Tchembe - http://doubleshotcoffee.com/store/index.php?productID=137
Kenya Peaberry Karimikui - http://doubleshotcoffee.com/store/index.php?productID=136

Of course, you can still order online and I'll ship them to you. But get it soon because both of these special coffees will be gone before you know it.

Happy holidays.
Brian

ps. If you're wondering what to get me, I like New York Strips (preferably dry aged) and I still haven't gotten that horse I've been asking for.

Contrast

It's a bit wild on my porch. With moths flittering about and the tiniest hummingbirds hovering precisely, pointy beaks inside cone-shaped flowers three shades of pink. The three-foot-tall bouquet of green onion stems sprouting from my concrete steps. An army of green vines straight out of the Amazon, slowly marching across the entry all Summer long. One night a rat-tailed possum climbed the Crape Myrtle next to my green-cushioned love seat, and three brave and curious raccoons scampered up to try and make off with the round slices of venison sausage and club crackers that are so often my dinner.

But I love contrast, and so I sit smoking a Nicaraguan cigar, sipping Russian River Pinot Noir, listening to Mendelssohn and reading iPhone texts from my winsome girlfriend about the beauty of the moon (which is glowing from behind my arched roofline) and the bright planet hanging below (and behind a tall, tall tree).

Contrasts are important. All of one or the other and you might not notice either.

We had driven for hours along a graded dirt road strewn with rocks and the holes they dislodged from, occasionally passing another vehicle and its trailing red cloud of dust, sporadically stopping to look at a care-free elephant or a distant ostrich, a black orb overing on the horizon, or an almost-imperceptible serval cat with its over-sized ears, pouncing on a snake in the knee-high grass. We passed wandering Maasai warriors in tartan shukas driving emaciated cows and goats, and awkward, skittish, knobby-kneed giraffes chewing leaves of the thorny Acacia. The road became paved and began climbing and I nodded, fighting drowsy, motion-induced slumber. The plains turned to forests as we ascended the side of a volcano that was probably one of the tallest mountains on the continent of Africa before it blew its top and formed a 12-mile-wide crater. The cool green rainforest was a far cry from the brown, endless plain we spent days criss-crossing, pointing out perfectly camouflaged antelope and their predators. The smallest Dikdik, the fastest Topi, the ugliest Wildebeest, the sleekest Cheetah.

In high-elevation mist, Baboons sat on the road, licking the pavement and plotting, like Yogi Bear, to steal our pic-a-nic basket. And as we rounded a switch-back, our Tanzanian guide quickly stopped and exclaimed, "Oh look at this!"

Five lionesses and a great, maned, muscular beast walked down the road toward our Land Cruiser and warily but confidently skirted by, three feet from our faces pressed against the nippy windows. A wild kingdom. Our hearts raced, and we continued our windey, ascending drive. Until suddenly, the trees opened up before us, over the edge of the crater into the clouds below and the ridge beyond, and the wilderness transformed into a palatial hotel, colorfully-robed and kufi'd bellmen dashing here and there, fetching bags and escorting us, like foreign dignitaries, into a grand lobby. Marbled floors and huge, carved, wooden columns, exquisite lounge furniture next to glowing fires, under an ominous, thatched dome. We lived like royalty, sipping Scotch in the bar overlooking the crater, fine dining on white tablecloths, and escaping to our '70s-style quarters to where we were escorted by an armed guard, wary of the predators about.

A shocking change. But I don't think it would've had the same effect on us, had we not spent the previous three days in a primitive safari camp, washing in a gravity shower, eating in a mess tent, and zipping our door behind us at night to slumber with the sound of hyena calls.

We'll be exploring contrasts in coffees through a coffee tasting that you are invited to on Thursday, October 27 at 7pm. I'll brew a few of my favorite coffees for you, tell you where they were cultivated, how they were processed, and together we'll taste and smell and enjoy the variety that DoubleShot Coffee can offer.
Entry is $10 and we're using the funds through our 501(3)(c) not-for-profit, Coffee Illuminati, to give to projects that support coffee-growing communities.
Spots are limited, so register right away by emailing me at Brian@DoubleShotCoffee.com.

Tulsa Tough Coffee Blend

I once rode my mountain bike 180 miles from my parents' house in Galesburg, Illinois to where I was meeting my dad for work in Shelbyville, Illinois in the middle of the summer, down sometimes-sticky, freshly-oiled and pea-gravelled roads, long, undulating plains where all I could see was corn and soybeans until a watertower from the next town would appear on my horizon. I had no map, except for a crude printout of the towns in between, and I followed my instincts which led me to a dead end once but generally steered me south and east until I reached my destination. And then I went to work.

I grew up in a town and a time when kids could ride their bikes to school, and a lot of us did. It was that feeling of independence and self-reliance that I could ride my bike all the way to Farnham Elementary, past my older brother's middle school, when I would leave him and be truly free. Up over the bridge that spanned railroad tracks and down alongside the playground, past the grumpy old crossing guard who used to catch us climbing up the tubular fire escape during recess and send us to Mr. Douglas' office for detention. And then I would be late coming home on my metallic green Schwinn Stingray and my mother would worry and I would have to confess that I had to stay after school.

Bikes have always been a mode of transportation and a doorway to liberty. I rode my bike to little league baseball games and to my friend Wayne's house and down country roads to Spoon Lake where I was a lifeguard at a private club called Oak Run. And once I discovered that wheels were an accelerated version of walking, of hiking, I found my freedom in the vistas of Moab and the valleys of Crested Butte.

And I found my front tire on many a starting line, cross-country racing and 24-hour racing and adventure racing and rolling out of transition on my fastest leg of a du- or triathlon. After my 180-mile commute to work, I took second place in a Cat 2 XC race in Telluride and then watched the pros flow through the ribbons of singletrack that bucked me like a wild stallion. And their finesse and fitness inspired me like poetry. Like the first time I roasted coffee and discovered that it could be SO MUCH BETTER.

I found this again, much to my surprise, at Tulsa Tough. I've been at almost every single race every year, at first because I wanted to support a local event, but it got me right off, the speed, the power, the sounds of chains being turned by professional lungs and legs and the wind that blows my hair back when they pass. And two years ago, it inspired me to actually buy a road bike. And at the end of last year I upgraded to a really nice road bike. And now I'm about to compete in my first criterium races. Tulsa Tough is this Friday night, all day Saturday and Sunday morning.

So this year, not only am I turning over a new set of pedals, but we've teamed up with Tulsa Tough to bring you a special coffee, the Tulsa Tough Coffee Blend. It's a smooth coffee with notes of berry and nut and chocolates, and it's suitable for espresso or drip or presspot. We got you covered. I roasted it today and they'll be selling it for $20 a pound at the races this weekend. If you're doing one of the Gran Fondo rides Saturday, you'll have a chance to sample this limited coffee before you roll out. If not, drop by the Tulsa Tough merchandise tent while you're watching men and women pour their hearts into their pedals and pick up a pound to brew at home.

I'm going to keep riding and roasting. Because it's possible that the bike brought me to where I am today. Bikes and coffee. Ask any real cyclist. It's possible that the faster the cyclist, the more they love coffee. I know why, but I'm not telling you.

29 Again

Tomorrow is my birthday.

How Did This Happen?

I drew a diagram... (You're welcome)