“Eef dat coffee was around and Napoleon knew about eet, he would have conquered Russia. Beethoven would have rewritten the feefth symphony.”
– bioluminescent cypriot, adding to the hulking body of esmeralda hyperbole
four evangelistic blind cuppings down, and the image of sarkis cradling a shot glass, savoring esmeralda as espresso and mumbling about something being illegal, sticks out. so does the remembrance of a nameless midwestern friend choosing the charbucks sumatra over the panamanian sublimity, but hey, this blog is doing its best to scrub its brain (and its list of ‘friends’).
there is now a precious fourth of a pound left, and i have put considerable research and development into a routine that ensures nary an oblong bean goes wasted on a poorly distributed shot, a bad grind or an early morning high-temp throwaway. let’s just say it involves a sort of elongated stockfleths move and stunt-double beans. several thousand words into this sojourn, the rest is mine to savor in peace.
the chicagoans drove the night friday, arriving at 9-ish saturday morning, just in time for breakfast and a palate cleanser — the gaggle arrived at 11. next morning, they drove back (by a strange and southwesterly route, but you can ask them about that. i suspect the influence of mesmerelda!). collegiate joel, he of the pricey camera and extreme shunning of sleep, posted a handful of pics here.
regular snarky riffing will recommence shortly.
UPDATE: still more staggering overstatement in the comments!