Coffee Cupping In Colombia

“A hint of chocolate, a whisper of citrus,” he tells the barista. He’s a foodie, so unlike me, he actually smells these aromas. This isn’t a wine tasting – I’m at a coffee cupping in a coffee lab in Bogota, Colombia. Coffee cupping is a ritual taken very seriously by food and wine geeks, and an intriguing challenge for caffeine addicts like me.

We’re standing around a table in the pristine lab that’s tucked behind a glass wall in E&D Cafés. Locals seated at tables in the coffee bar on the far side of the glass drink espresso and stare at us, while cafe owner Jamie Duque introduces us to the ritual.

Ten empty cups sit on the table before me near a metal bowl, our spittoon. We start by taking a sip from each of the first four cups, which have been filled with different types of water. After each sip, we spit into the metal bowl before moving on to the next one. Deciding which cups hold the sweet, salty, bitter and acidic tastes helps activate our palates.

I step back to take a picture and bump into the metal counter that stretches the length of the room. On it, there’s an industrial-size coffee grinder and containers with clear water that Jean’s assistant is using to fill our coffee cups. A colorful coffee taster’s flavor wheel hangs on the wall. At one end of the room a massive coffee-bean roaster sits against a brick wall and there’s a lingering smoky scent, perhaps from the last coffee that was roasted.

Apparently there are more than 30 different aromas a truly sensitive palate can taste while drinking coffee, according to Duque. Coffee from the central region of Colombia, for example, tends to be sweet because sugar cane also is grown in the same location. Coffee from Sumatra, however, has a more earthy taste, because the beans dry on the soil, Duque says.
After this discussion, we move to three more cups that have been filled with samples of the inexpensive brands of coffee one buys off a supermarket shelf. Duque pours water into them and says, “Break the crust gently by moving the spoon back and forth to release the aroma. Then, sniff hard.”

I follow his instructions but have to swallow a giggle listening to my friends sniff like they are in the fourth day of a cold. Here’s when the suggestions start flowing. “Chocolate,” “bitter,” “sweet,” different people reply. I keep quiet, recognizing that subtle coffee tastes are not my forté. To me, it’s “just right,” “too strong,” or “too weak.”The remaining cups are filled with carefully measured amounts of three different types of ground coffee beans that were picked in different growing areas in Colombia. (To create good coffee, the amounts used are very important, according to Duque.) After going through the sniff routine, we move on to the “slurp” movement we were taught when tasting the first three cups. We gently skim off the crust that’s formed on the top of the coffee in our cups and toss it into the spittoon. Then, as Duque had explained, we proceed to “slurp” a bit of the brew and move it around our mouths to sense the coffee’s essence. For the next few minutes, it sounds as if we are in a Japanese noodle shop, slurping noisily to show our appreciation for the taste.

Finally, the specific coffees we are tasting, and the region each comes from, are revealed. After amiable arguments about which brew has the best taste, we’re each allowed to choose our favorite and take 100 grams of beans back home to the States.

As we’ve been tasting, Duque has been scribbling facts about Colombian coffee on the glass wall with a black pen. Duque has a friendly face, with a smile that invites friendship but disappears when he starts giving you facts about the coffee industry in Colombia. At times, listening to him is like learning from a college professor teaching a popular class. He explains that there are 800,000 coffee farms in this country and about two million people make their living directly or indirectly from coffee. The coffee is grown mostly in small farms on land that’s between 1,100 and 2,000 meters above sea level. The types of soil differ greatly, ensuring different coffee profiles.

Duque knows these facts because he’s a driving force in Colombia’s coffee industry. An agricultural engineer by training, his youthful looks – despite slightly thinning black hair – belie that fact that he has spent 20 years working with coffee growers and producers. His focus: to help coffee growers reach social, technical and environmental sustainability, in part through the implementation of certification programs to ensure quality coffee. In the lab he designed at E&D Cafés (which stands for Education and Development of Coffees), he works with coffee producers and retains an overview of the coffee chain, from the growers to the baristas making cappuccinos for the line of locals in the coffee bar.

If you’re visiting Bogota, you can arrange to partake in a coffee cupping in the lab at E&D Cafés. It takes about one- to one-and-a-half hours, and it costs approximately $25 a person, although the price for bigger groups is flexible.

Drink, slurp, spit! The essence of a coffee cupping. Back home, after brewing the coffee I purchased at E&D Cafés, it’s strictly “drink, drink, drink” – and savor the memory of a special day.

The 3 Best Spots For A Drink In Newport, Rhode Island

During summer, the city of Newport, Rhode Island, brings in millions of visitors who want to experience history, mansions, sailing, boutique shops, delicious restaurants and relaxing on the water. One facet of Newport worth exploring is the drink scene. To help you enjoy scenic views, historical cocktails and quality craft beer, here are three of the best spots for a drink in Newport.

Castle Hill Inn
590 Ocean Avenue

Located at the end of Ocean Drive, you’ll find a welcoming waterfront mansion with a rich history. While most people know of Castle Hill Inn as a luxurious hotel, many don’t realize it’s also Newport’s most scenic drinks spot. Once you have your car valeted, you can make your way to the hotel’s spacious backyard, which features a patio, bar and an award-winning restaurant, as well as a lawn littered with Adirondack chairs. While the drinks are a bit pricey – about $12 for a cocktail, $10 to $35 for a glass of wine and $5.50 to $14 for a beer – you won’t be spending much more than you would anywhere else in Newport, and you’ll have a great view. Relax with a cold drink while watching sail boats passing by, children giggling and playing tag and calming waves on the waterfront. If you’re hungry, you can order from the “lawn menu,” which has dishes like “Surf ‘N’ Turf Burger” ($24), “Native Fish Wrap” with chickpea salad ($16) and artisanal cheeses with jams, almonds, honey and grilled bread ($19).White Horse Tavern
26 Marlborough

While this dimly lit bar may appear unassuming, it’s actually said to be the oldest tavern in America. White Horse Tavern was originally constructed in 1652 as a two-story residence. In 1673 when it was acquired by a new owner it was converted to a tavern. For the next 100 years, before the Colony House came about, it was a meeting place for the Colony’s General Assembly, Criminal Court and City Council. With its clapboard walls, plain pediment doors and gambrel roof on the outside, and wide fireplaces, giant beams and tiny front hall on the inside it’s said no building in the town better resembles colonial Newport. The staff is extremely friendly, and will be happy to show you their international wine or quality bourbon lists. Additionally, this is one of the only places in Newport you can order a Long Trail IPA, a much-loved beer with a golden color, small white head, flowery nose and herbal notes.

Pour Judgement Bar & Grill
32 Broadway

Beer nerds will love this brew-focused venue, which features one of the widest selection of craft beers in the city. Unlike many drink spots in Newport, Pour Judgement Bar & Grill is reasonably priced, with $2.50 Narragansetts, $4 Newport Storm Winter Ports and $4 Peak Organic Nut Brown Ales, as well as other local, domestic and international beers. Not only will you get to sip quality brews without breaking the bank, you’ll also be getting to experience local life, as this is a popular hangout for Newport residents. Moreover, staff are friendly and are more than happy to help you choose the perfect beer to pair with your burger, turkey chili or seafood curry.

Bringing My Love Of Backpacking Home

“One’s destination is never a place, but a new way of seeing things” – Henry Miller

Every year, I spend months saving money for backpacking trips abroad and learning about the foreign cultures I’ll be visiting. The farther away from home and the more exotic the destination, the more value I put on the trip. It wasn’t that I didn’t think cities drivable from my home weren’t worthwhile; but I wanted to experience unknown local delicacies, mountainous landscapes, ecofriendly villages, rich history, interesting communities and just a place that was generally different from my home of Long Island, New York. How could I possibly do that without getting on a plane?

My friend Mike recently invited me to come visit him in Rhode Island. I agreed, expecting nothing more than a long weekend of photographing Newport mansions, going for drinks in Providence and just relaxing on the beach. Surprisingly, the jaunt turned into a mini road trip of New England, as well as an eye-opening experience about how to find culture in your own backyard.Rhode Island

“What’s a lobster roll? And Rhode Island has it’s own clam chowder?” I asked Mike as we perused the numerous cafe signs wandering the streets of Newport.

Apparently, a lobster roll has nothing to do with sushi, as I had assumed, but is fresh cooked lobster meat tossed with mayonnaise and served on a grilled hot dog bun. Additionally, Rhode Island clam chowder is a local favorite, with a clear broth, potatoes, onions, bacon and quahogs. Both were delicious, and I couldn’t believe I’d gone 25 years without sampling either.

“Now we’ve got to get you some Coffee Milk,” said Mike, telling me about the state’s official drink. “It’s like chocolate milk, only with coffee syrup instead.”

Continuing our tour through Newport, I was able to sip a classic cocktail at America’s oldest tavern and learn about the history of the famous Newport Mansions, embodying 250 years of history and featuring among the highest number of surviving colonial buildings of any city in the country. Providence, the city I knew only for its bars, actually proved quite historical with a walk down Benefit Street. Immersing myself in 18th century architecture, it was hard to imagine that I was only three hours from home.

New Hampshire

Next we were off to Franconia, New Hampshire. As we drove toward The Granite State, sea-level landscape transformed into mountain peaks reaching over 4,000 feet. The sense of adrenaline I only get while backpacking immediately washed over me, and I again I forgot I wasn’t all that far from home.

Mike and I spent three days hiking the Appalachian Trail, swimming in lakes and waterfalls and summiting Mount Washington, the highest mountain in the northeastern United States at 6,288 feet. I called my
mom excitedly about my newly discovered landmark, just as I had when hiking in the Andes in South America and the Blue Mountains in Australia.

The downtown area where Mike and I went for a nice dinner on our last night in town reminded me of some of the small towns I often visit abroad.

“This is the theater district,” Mike joked, pointing to a group of older men playing guitar at a one-stop pizza/ice cream/T-shirt shop, which was adjacent to an all-in-one dry cleaning/postal/Internet cafe/dog daycare. We walked across the street to the locally famous “Dutch Treat,” where I was once again introduced to a new meal, a burger topped with a flaky crab cake. While not authentic New Hampshire cuisine per say, it still made me feel like I do on backpacking trips when I’m able to find a cozy local restaurant selling a never-before-tasted food.

Vermont

In Vermont, I experienced a degree of culture shock. It began at the Windham Hill Inn in West Townsend, a beautiful hotel in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by the rolling hills of the Green Mountains, peaceful meadows and colorful gardens. The inside smelled of fresh-roasted granola, and locally made teddy bears adorned each room. I thought the emphasis on local products and country living was unique to the hotel; however, journeying into the nearby towns showed me southern Vermont was passionate about going local and community closeness. In fact, I didn’t see one chain establishment during the five days I was there.

In Brattleboro, almost every shop had a sign advising people to “go local.” Remnants of the town’s rich hippie culture from the 1970s are still visible, as you weave in and out of the many bead stores, eclectic galleries and laid-back cafes and bars. Colorful signs advertising events like poetry slams, indie film screenings, farmers markets, environmental workshops and fiddle contests abound, and it isn’t surprising to find locals fighting for moral cause.

Venturing off to the small village of Chester, I was transported to a time when Late Victorian, Colonial Revival and Federal-style architecture was the norm. In Chester, it still is. I was astounded by the depth of warmth conveyed by the city. Wandering down Lovers Lane as well as nibbling on scones at Inn Victoria‘s high tea and playing with the 10,000 plus teddy bears at Hugging Bear Inn and Toy Shoppe helped me experience an unusual culture.

Before heading home, we stopped in Grafton, and sampled some of Vermont’s local cheeses made with raw milk from nearby farmers as well as Vermont maple syrup candies at Grafton Village Cheese. Here I purchased souvenirs from the trip, Pure Maple Butter for my mom and Palmer Lane Maple Jelly Beans for my dad. I felt like such a tourist, but in a good way.

Going Home

For me, the trip wasn’t a “staycation,” “nearcation,” or any other “nearby getaway” term that implies escaping from reality to relax. Instead, it was a chance to experience cultures different from my own, learn about interesting pieces of history and sample foods I had never tried. I discovered new sites, sounds, flavors and lifestyles, but most importantly, I discovered a new way to travel by bringing my love of backpacking home.

‘The Perennial Plate’ Partners With Intrepid Travel For Online Food Documentary Series

I’ll be the first to raise my hand and say I despise most of the food shows currently on television and online. That’s why I got so excited when I heard about “The Perennial Plate,” a weekly online documentary series, “dedicated to socially responsible and adventurous eating.”

That angle by virtue does not a good show make. But Daniel Klein and Mirra Fine, the team behind the show, have the ideal background to make this concept work, which it does. Throw in a collaboration with well-regarded Australian adventure company Intrepid Travel, and you have the makings of a cult classic.

In case you’re thinking this is another “No Reservations,” or “Bizarre Foods,” the focus is different in that the duo explores the increasingly connected global food system, minus the machismo. That said, there’s plenty for those more interested in armchair travel.

Klein has an impressive resume as a chef, filmmaker and activist, while “camera girl” Fine has a background in graphic design and writing, and has previously released short, food-based films. Together, the two have completed two seasons. The first took place over the course of a calendar year in their home state of Minnesota. The second was filmed across America, taking viewers on a journey of “where good food comes from, and how to enjoy it.”

Season three, which premieres in October (check their site for dates), is the first since joining with Intrepid Travel. The season kicks off with a tour of Vietnam. Future episodes will include China, Japan, India, Argentina and Italy.


Culinary Cab Confessions: Ghana on the Hudson

“I want you to take me to lunch.”

These were the first words I said to the driver after getting in his cab outside my apartment on W. 10th Street in New York City. His eyes went from looking at me in the rearview mirror to whipping his head around to look at me face to face.


“Huh?” he said.

I repeated it and then mentioned the reputation cab drivers have: that, in addition to being oft-eratic drivers, they supposedly hold the secrets to a city’s best cheap eats. He let his head fall back, his face staring up at the ceiling of his car, and let out a huge laugh.

“You see,” said Joseph, “I mostly eat junk food.”

I pressed him, fearing I was going to end up at McDonalds or Taco Bell, asking where he usually eats when he’s taking a break from cab. I know it was cheating but I verbally cajoled him a bit. “Something good,” I said.

And then a lightbulb went on above his head: “Ah,” he said. “I have it.” He stepped on the gas and we whipped eastward down W. 10th St.

When seeking out new restaurants in a place, some people look at food blogs or local magazines or ask friends. I have a different method: I talk to cab drivers. As I’ve done several times in the last year, I’m testing out the theory that cab drivers are also great restaurant finders. So far I’ve done this in Ethiopia, Burma, Mexico, and, once, in New York City and I’ve yet to have had a bad meal. The last time I did this in the Big Apple I was taken to a Turkish restaurant in the Village by a Turkish driver. Would ethnicity once again determine my lunch spot?

Joseph, it turns out, is from Ghana and the restaurant he was taking me to – which he frequents once or twice a week – was a west African place. So, yes, I had my answer. Not that I have a problem with this. One of the goals of doing this is to find a place I’d never think about eating, a place I didn’t even know existed.

On the way there, stuck in traffic on Sixth Avenue, Joseph told me about the Christian book and music shop he owned in Brooklyn. “My specialty was Christian rap,” he said.

Christian rap?

“That’s right. It’s good stuff. And it has a good message. No violence. No profanity.” He suggested I get started with Sho Baraka, the “Jay-Z of Christian rap music.”

I thought this would be a good time to change the subject and asked if anyone had ever hopped in his cab and made such a crazy request like taking them to find a place to eat. About seven years ago, Joseph recalled, a drunk Irish guy asked to be taken him to a strip club – any strip club. “So I took him to a place in west Chelsea. When we got there he insisted I go inside with him. And, you won’t believe it, there were naked ladies in there!” At this point, Joseph buckled over, bursting with laughter while still talking. I understood nothing he was saying. It was totally incomprehensible except it sounded something like “Extra tiny midgets enjoy magical candies with Mitt Romney and Jesus,” but I’m almost sure that’s not what he said. He kept laughing and speaking, though, and I still had no idea what he was saying. At one point, I thought: did he just say, “Punk rock grannies give the best relief when their wooden legs are off”? Nah. It sounded like it though.

A few minutes and turns later and we were idling in front of B&B restaurant (165 W. 26th St., New York, NY, 212-627-2914). “Get the peanut butter sauce,” he said, as I handed him money for the fare.

Joseph shook my hand and reminded me that I should give Christian rap a try. I nodded and made my way into the restaurant. It was set up buffet style. There were no placards on any of the chaffing dishes, so I just grabbed a plate and began putting stuff on. Most of the food was reminiscent of Indian cuisine: a lot of saucy, meaty (sometimes curry-flavored) dishes dumped over rice.

And Joseph was right: the peanut butter sauce (bobbing with super tender lamb meatballs) was amazing. So was the yassa Guinar, a tender chicken in an onion-y sauce. I was the only non-African in the place and felt like I’d really discovered something, a place I really would have never thought to wander in.

Score another one for the taxi drivers. But only ask for music recommendations at your own peril.