I Heart Sahagun

People are always saying, blah blah blah, Portland has too many coffee shops, blah blah blah. But you know what I have to say to those people? Shut it. The more coffee shops there are in this city, the more frequently I can get coffee without the same baristas seeing me and thinking that it’s all I do. Which is, like, totally untrue.

So on that note, I fervently endorse the recent opening of Heart Coffee and Roasting on East Burnside. Nifty, near home, and new, so they don’t recognize me yet. The aesthetic of the space echoes that of the Ace Hotel, i.e. four walls of perfection and troves of clever objets d’art. This alone would be enough to attract me like a raccoon to a shiny object.

But what is this? The espresso delights? Indeed it does. Their roaster sits in the café, and if you’re lucky, you can watch the impossible magic of coffee roasting happen before your very eyes.

Heart also offers siphon coffee: looks like a chemistry experiment; uses do-dads resembling fancy drug paraphernalia; yields delicious coffee. I’m into it.

The minimalist décor does not encourage loitering: the lack of computer outlets is inspired. Do people not have Internet access at home these days?  Did you know that you can use your laptop in that mystery room attached to your kitchen? Some call it the living room. Evidently you do living stuff in there, or so I’ve heard.

Across the river and through the woods (and by the woods I mean the Pearl), I paid a visit to Sahagun Handmade Chocolates. Owner Elizabeth Montes got her start at the Portland Farmer’s market, and her wee, nearly hidden shop peddles all sorts of treats, including a single-origin hot chocolate that was like a good slap in the face. Had me sayin’, Slap me again.

Also of note: sunflower seed butter and blackberry honey encased in bittersweet chocolate, and the Miracle Pill: an organic prune d’Agen with candied orange peel covered in Los Ancone’s Santo Domingan 67% dark chocolate. Amen.

More coffee–and why the heck not–in the form of Cartola, a tiny café on NE 7^th neighbored by what appears to be a secret church-sex-den. Sign says “Love Tabernacle“, but also says “Bible Study“. Curious.

Back to Cartola: Stumptown coffee! Sweet wallpaper! Vintage art! In conclusion, any place that has antlers and odd photographs of long-dead non-relatives on the walls receives an instant thumbs up.

Drink that squash!

At the fine old age of 26, I’ve learned a thing or two. I’m what people call “wise”. So when I tell you that a pint of pumpkin beer is roughly equatable to, say, a plate of broccoli–or perhaps several steamed carrots–in both vitamin content and overall healthfulness, trust my words.

Over the years, I’ve created a foolproof method to determine pumpkin beer drinkability. Take the name of the current month. Does it end in a letter? Excellent. Now take the day of the week. Does it also end in a letter? If it does, well, gosh, it’s a fine day for pumpkin beer. If it doesn’t, then perhaps you are reading this from the 27^th century? Did they change the calendar or something? For further clarification, please reference the following flowchart:

Moving on.

This fall, my forays into pumpkin beer have been admittedly calculated. Pumpkin ale with my pumpkin pie? Why, yes. Pumpkin ale with my pumpkin soup? Don’t mind if I do.

I fell especially hard for Wolaver’s Will Stevens’ Organic Pumpkin Ale from Otter Creek Brewing Company out of Middlebury, Vermont. I have a special place in my heart for this one, not only because it iz zee best, but also because I went to college in Middlebury and I think my four years there prooooobably have something to do with the beer’s degree of awesomeness. Will Stevens is the farmer whose pumpkins are used in the brew, and his farm is a mere 15 miles from the brewery. I love you, Vermont.

Also spectacular is Seattle’s Elysian Brewery’s Night Owl Pumpkin Ale. Each batch of this amber ale is brewed with 150 lbs. of pumpkin meat. HOT DAMN! Elysian hosts a pumpkin beer festival every fall, which you can read about here. I don’t want to talk about it. I wasn’t there, a choice that is in the running for ’single greatest regret of 2009′. Also, is it just me, or does that owl’s stare make you feel uncomfortable?

Dogfish Head also wows with Punkin’ Head pumpkin ale, and the Rogue Brewery here in Portland is pouring their Issaquah Ichabob Pumpkin Wit. Go forth and drink that squash.

To find out about more seasonal pumpkin beers (and there are many, many more), the Beer Advocate has a nice little list here.

Taza Chocolate: in your mouth AND on your legs

It’s been a while since I waxed lyrical about chocolate. Quelle oversight. Fortunately, I’m kind of a big deal, and people feel compelled to bestow gifts of chocolate upon me at random. That’s how Jeremy’s Taza Embrocation Cycling Journal limited-edition stone ground Mexican Chocolate disks came to be in my hot little hands. I’m pretty sure I’m the only person in the world who got one. As it should be. I asked myself, Self, what does one do with such exclusive chocolate? Play with it! Photograph it! Light it on fire! Obviously.

I wrote about Taza a few months ago using words bordering hero worship. I believe the phrase, “stone ground chocolate, you complete me” may have been used. Due to the fact that chocolate bars are so 2000 and late, Taza’s Chocolate disks–graced with the Embrocation moka pot–are infinitely cooler. Jeremy, you’re like George Foreman. Everything you touch, solid gold.

The disks are pocket-sized and travel well. Let’s say you’re cycling and need a snack: you can just reach back into that jersey pocket and inject your ride with stone-ground bliss.  They’re made of Taza’s stone ground Mexican Chocolate. Hello, rapture, we meet again. Plus, I think the disks have a little something extra added. Maybe it’s the spice of life? Dunno. But they made damn good s’mores.

What is this ‘embrocation’ business? Just so we’re clear, embrocation is not for eating. Cyclists rub the stuff on their legs to make them look shiny and sexy, and they will claim that it promotes “warmth” and “circulation”. Lies. Embrocation is really for creating that oiled, Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Edition look. Quite frankly, that works for me. Nothing finer than oiled legs. But again, embrocation is not for eating, even with names like Chocolate Wish or Mango Love. Trust.

Back by the fireplace, tragedy struck. I had intended to keep the one-of-a-kind Embrocation wrapper for posterity, but due to an unfortunate photographic experiment gone awry (did you know that paper is flammable? I did not know that), it has gone to that chocolate-wrapper place in the sky.

Speaking of cool things that my friends are doing, check out Natalie’s company, KIND, and their KINDED campaign. It’s hip to be kind. And, yes, I’m talking to you, man in the silver BMW who honked unnecessarily and mean-mugged us last night on Broadway at approximately 11:23pm as we were leaving the screening of Warren Miller’s film Dynasty at the Schnitz. For shame.

Just Say No to the Nordic Flying Elbow

Last week we had a few rooms at the Ace Hotel downtown, and that place is seriously jazzy. Clyde Common! A photo booth! Germans wearing capri pants! And their very own Stumptown Café. If I were a stealth ninja I would pilfer the lobby’s wooden chandelier. Also, soap on a rope? Hours of fun. Who knew?

But what, you ask, is the Nordic Flying Elbow? Contrary to popular belief, it is not my signature water polo move, but rather a barista term for the exaggerated hand motion used to smooth ground espresso before shots are pulled. While this move ostensibly denotes sophistication and skill—much like a British accent—I discovered the FNE to be nothing more than showponying. Precisely why I plan to master it.

Thanks to an espresso class at Stumptown’s headquarters with espresso trainer (teehee) and Northwest Regional Barista champ Jen Prince, I learned espresso etiquette (hence, ixnay on the flying elbow) and the ins and outs of the coffee industry, direct-trade, and Stumptown’s roasting operations. Now I know everything.

I like a little HOV with my morning coffee, don’t you? And as he’s always told me, I’m not a businessman, I’m a business, man. Well said, well said, Jay, and oddly applicable to the current discussion. The profundity of your wisdom astounds me. I’m loving those shades, that plaid, the chain, your wingspan.

After conquering the Pacific NW, Stumptown recently expanded east, opening a roastery in the Red Hook district of Brooklyn and a café in the NYC Ace Hotel. For those of you in Manhattan, shimmy on down to 29^th and Broadway and get a bevie.

Freelance designer Fritz Mesenbrink re-designed Stumptown’s simple packaging—a nod to the grade school bag lunch—and this year Stumptown celebrates 10 years in the biz.

And you know what I like? I like it when everyone wins. In sports, not so much: in sports, I like it when I win. But when it comes to the game of life (i.e. you make stuff, Bob packages it, and I buy it), everyone ought to win. Stumptown, in its pursuit of excellence and sustainability, is a model business in this regard. Here’s why:

Historically, coffee prices have been based on the NYSE Commodity—or C—market, which is driven largely my marketing rather than by real-time product values.  The Fair Trade system was created to minimize the amount of money taken off the top from producers by offering a fixed price for coffee regardless of the market. The Fair Trade Commission, however, certifies only farming cooperatives and offers few incentives for quality.

Stumptown’s Direct Trade initiative takes the Fair Trade premise further by offering financial incentives based on quality rather than a fixed price. In direct trade relationships, coffee prices are negotiated with producers, guaranteeing better and fairer wages. This system creates a more transparent movement of goods and capital through the market, yielding higher quality coffees and better business practices. Stumptown visits each farmer at least once a year to work with growers and to ensure that everything is honkydory.

While touring Stumptown’s Division Street roasting facility I chatted with Francisco Javier Garcia, a grower from Nicaragua who is in town to work in Portland’s roasting room. This is the second year that Garcia has brought coffee grown on his own farm to be roasted and distributed by Stumptown. Trade doesn’t get much more direct than that.

On October 8^th, I attended a “meet-the-producers” panel presentation and discussion hosted by Stumptown and held at the Leftbank building (Short aside about the space: if I had a business, I would set up shop here. Exposed beams and brick and all that. It’s a seriously sexy building).  Growers and exporters from Kenya, Columbia and Costa Rica discussed the current state of the coffee industry, proving yet again that the progressivism of direct trade is creating a better, more sustainable industry for all participants: growers, distributors, and consumers alike.

The Stumptown Annex on SE Belmont offers coffee tastings—or cuppings—twice daily, at 11:00am and 3:00pm. Did that too. I may have a rather astonishing mild coffee addiction. If it weren’t for the fact that coffee is plum loaded with protein, electrolytes, calcium, and everything else good for a person, that would be worrisome.

Apple Cider, fill it up again!

Fill it up again! Once it hits your lips, it’s so good.

I do believe ‘tis fall. Yes, indeed, pumpkins everywhere, shorter days, unexplained giddiness. Last weekend found me exploring the Willamette Valley, a dizzying pastoria of orchards and people with questionable lawn-ornamentation judgment. High points included shenanigans with piglets, fresh apple cider, and watching my dad squander wisely invest a small fortune in Domaine Drouhin Pinot Noir.

You see piglets and grain silos. I see bacon and pancakes. I kid, I kid. I like to pretend that bacon is actually derived from plants.

Saw the weirdest thing. A staged pumpkin patch. Seriously people, you may fool the small children, but not this girl, no siree.