Learning to Love Black Coffee Again

I'm drinking a cup of coffee right now, and it's really, really, really good.

It's black; I've added neither milk nor sugar. It barely tastes like coffee -- it's closer to a very intense black Darjeeling tea. This is coffee a coffee-hater might enjoy.

Ephemeral! and cool reflection.

This cup of coffee has nothing of the oily, dirt-like bitterness of a Starbucks coffee. (I say this as a person who will quite contentedly drink Starbucks coffee, though I tend to drown it in milk). Instead, this cup tastes light and floral, almost effervescent. There's even some citrus and lemongrass -- I'm not full of it; there really is so much more complexity here than I generally taste in any coffee except very good espresso. So much so, in fact, that I refrained from my normal splash of 2% milk. I like this cup of coffee.

How did this coffee come to be in my cup? Why is this morning unlike most mornings?

Well, for starters, I cleaned my coffee maker -- for the first time in the six months I've had it. Like, really cleaned it, by running a vinegar-water mixture through twice then rinsing. I have no idea whether or not cleaning the maker has a net positive impact, but it really can't hurt.

Oh, also, I stopped at Peregrine Espresso on 14th St. on the way home last night and purchased some SUPERB Ethiopian coffee. I asked the fellow working the counter for something light and interesting, and this is what he gave me. I should have photographed the beans, I suppose. Oops.

Now, I regularly buy decent coffee, but I'm often a little lazy and careless -- I'll keep extra beans in the freezer (a no-no), grind more than I'm using in a given pot (nope), and kinda eyeball measurements (like most of my cooking). But armed with very good, fresh beans and a clean coffee maker, I ground fresh this morning and carefully aimed for one level-ish tablespoon for every 5.5 ounce "cup" delineated on my machine. What a difference these tweaks made.

That's right, I've got a Magic Bullet As Seen On TV.

The questions remain: Will I change my ways? Will I clean the pot, grind fresh, and always buy in small quantities? Will I make that extra effort in the morning to elevate my coffee from pleasurable to phenomenal?

Stand by for a hostile takeover of Hungry Sam by Religion-Major Sam (Who is Also Hungry).

I think I will. My morning already possesses its ritual elements. I make the coffee, the omelet, and I prepare lunch, then I sit and watch TV or read or write. I relax into my day, rather than rush to meet it. Ritual imbues routine with a sense of intentionality and of transcendent reality; it can make my coffee into a hierophany (in Eliade's The Sacred and the Profane: the breakthrough of the sacred into the World) -- though that might be the caffeine speaking. Adding the morning coffee grind to my coffee-making procedure has already, in just one instance, improved not only the cup in my hands, but also grown my morning ritual in a new direction. And the best rituals seem to arrive from creative experimentation and combination -- just look at Christmas or Passover.

Anyways, it was a REALLY good cup of coffee. Washingtonians, definitely check out Peregrine. Those among you who brew in the morning, give a fresh grind of a new coffee a chance, and try it black. You may find, as I did, that a morning habit can become a morning treat.

My New Fig Tree, Or How My Life Keeps Getting Weirder.

I was feeling lousy yesterday, so I went to Whole Foods even though I didn't need to. I bought a fig tree, which made me feel pretty good. Here he is:

At the recommendation of my boss, his name is Figaro. Which seems apt, though I can't quite put my finger on why...

Prosciutto Wrapped Melon: Ham and Interns

What a confusing title for this post, Hungry Sam! you might say. Ham and Interns? Shigawhat now?

I'll explain. First things first -- I ate prosciutto-wrapped honeydew melon the other night, and it was super.

This tasty treat was the fortunate, shotgun marriage between two strokes of luck: I had found a truly superb honeydew (I know!) and Kevin (the roommate) had picked up a small package of tasty, smoky, nutty, sweet prosciutto.

The Melon: I have a friend who (accurately, I think) calls honeydew the "intern" of melons. Like interns, honeydews are so often useless. It's so hard to choose good ones -- there are so few exterior signs that the particular one you've chosen is worth it. More often than not, they're just not ready. But.

But.

When you find a good honeydew/intern, it's fanTASTIC. Both improve any project they touch, whether a fruit salad, position paper, or ham-based hors d'oeuvre (had to look that spelling up).

*Caveat: if my organization was a fruit monger, we would ALWAYS have good honeydews. We're just that good at picking interns.

**I wish there were more opportunities in English for use of the word "monger." Or that its standalone usage were more appropriate.

The Ham: Prosciutto is Italian for ham.

Ok, I'll provide more detail. In English, Prosciutto refers to cured ham, often very thinly sliced and eaten as antipasto (appetizer) or in a Caprese salad. The curing process involves salt and a long hang in a cool, ventilated area for nine months to two years. The salt does the "cooking," if you will. By the time it's wrapped for our enjoyment, it takes on a ripe, heavy scent and tastes quite intensely rich and sweet.

Now, next time we'll try to get our hands on some Prosciutto de Parma, cured ham from the city of Parma, Italy.

Fruit Salad Haiku

A morning brunch bash

Means an awesome fruit salad.

Mango-melons-peach.

Guest Post: Summertime -- And the Living Ain’t Always So Easy

This post comes courtesy of my friend Lisa P, a foodie and chef extraordinaire! She picked up and ran with a Google+/Facebook status I put up earlier about my intent to do a "Water Run," bringing bottles of cold water to some of the folks down here in D.C. who can't escape indoors or buy water -- some of D.C.'s large homeless population. (For the record, at 2:30 it is 102 degrees Fahrenheit, heat index at 121). Ok, so she's giving me some credit, but no reason not to push this message far and wide!

Summertime -- And the Living Ain’t Always So Easy


Today when I logged on to Facebook, I was greeted by a status reading:

"Want a cheap and easy way to do a good deed today? Buy some cold water and share it with people who can’t get indoors — those living or spending the day on the streets, at the parks, or in the alleys behind our houses and offices. Thanks to Sam for this great idea!"

But seriously, how amazing is this idea? It is so simple, but could make such a difference in someone’s life. This summer has been a scorcher, especially here in Washington, DC (heat index of 116 degrees F RIGHT NOW!?). All of us lucky enough to be relaxing in our air-conditioned apartments, browsing the web (reading my blog, of course) need to be careful in this heat, but don’t have too much to worry about. But think about all those people in the world who do not have a cool place to take shelter, or no access to drinking water. Do a good deed and if you see one of those people, buy them a bottle of water.

I challenge all of you reading this to go out and buy a pack of water bottles and hand them out!

Also, please spread the word! The more people who hear this idea, the more people we can help in the streets. I would like to give a special thanks to my friend who sparked this all with a Facebook status. Check out his blog, Hungry Sam for more food thoughts.

(Photo credit: Urban Canteen)

Planned Parenthood Birth Control Cookie

Does this really need any more explanation? Or does it raise a few questions? Like: Is it safe for me to eat this? Will I go to Hell?

I think we can agree, though, that if I eat this cookie, I will not get pregnant.

A Whole Fish, For the HALIBUT

GET IT? IT'S A FISH PUN DAMMIT.

Sorry I cursed. Now my sole is definitely going to eel.

I'll stop, I promise.

Once upon a time, I went for Ethiopian food at Dukem (one of the best in D.C.) with my friend Rebecca. Must have been a while ago; I seem to recall it being the first hot weekend day of the year. No matter.

For those who haven't had the pleasure, Ethiopian food, as it is served in America, tends to be various stew-like dishes of cheese and yogurt, lentils, other vegetables, and meats in little piles on top of the iconic, spongy Ethiopian Injera bread -- which also happens to be the main "utensil" for eating the stews. It looks a lot like this:

Anyways, Rebecca is not a huge meat eater, so we opted for the vegetarian platter. I do, though, like to make lots of a protein a dietary priority, so when we were asked, "Would you like fish on the side?" I enthusiastically said yes. I don't really know what I was expecting (maybe a cup of a fish stew? perhaps a tan of tuna in a bowl?), but I was not expecting this:

It's just a whole fish. Headless, obviously, and about 10 inches long.

It was DELICIOUS. The whole thing was fried but without any sort of breading or batter, with vertical cuts in the skin (presumably to prevent the fish from curling in one direction during cooking, as whole fish are wont to do). Great flavor (particularly with the included lemon wedge) though mild, much like trout, with a crispy texture and not too many wayward bones. I ended up attacking it with my hands as we didn't have silverware and the injera was too soft to make a good barrier between the fish and my fingers.

SO TASTY. Thank cod I said yes to fish.

Ok, I'll really stop.