In a Golden State 1: Coffee

fig. a: golden eagle, golden state

It seems like eons ago now, but in the month of August, at the height of summer, Team AEB found itself in Northern California for the first time in five years. Not for lack of desire. Our last trip had been a dream, jam-packed with all kinds of memorable adventures and discoveries. Probably the best AEB expedition of all time. Certainly one of the longest. If you had told us it would have taken five years to get back, we would have said, "Are you loco?" But that is in fact what happened. So when we finally got around to paying a return visit, we were more than ready.

Back in '05, when it came time to start typing up our field notes, we went a little overboard. We broke things down into a series of "revelations." Nine of them. Some were themed (burritos, dim sum, Point Reyes Station), but the overwhelming majority were profiles of specific places/people/businesses (June Taylor, Andy's Orchard, Tartine). This time we've elected to go a more consistently thematic route.

Installment #1, as I'm sure you've figured out, is on coffee. Few things about the Golden State helped to keep us in a consistently golden state as effectively as its rad coffee scene.*

And when we got back from California, one of our most prized souvenirs was this simple bag of beans.

fig. b: the other Michelle

Not only did the bag bear the name "Michelle" on it (never did find out why), but it contained some truly lovely beans from one of the irie-est of coffee-growing regions, Ethiopia, and it hailed from one of our favorite SF coffee establishments, Four Barrel.

It's safe to say that the coffee scene in the Bay Area has changed dramatically in just five years. There may be other cities in North America that have undergone similar coffee revolutions during the same period (Chicago? Portland?), but, if so, we haven't had the pleasure of visiting them. What we witnessed in San Francisco was entirely new to us, unprecedented in any of the coffee towns we're familiar with (Montreal, New York, Toronto, Vancouver). You see, not only had several hardcore, high-end coffee operations opened across town, transforming a town that was already coffee-obsessed into a town that was positively twitchy with meticulously sourced, carefully roasted, and expertly executed coffees using a wide variety of brewing methods, but many of them were sourcing and roasting their own beans (!), and most of these establishments housed their roasting operations on-premises in beautifully designed spaces that were oftentimes minimalist in style (lots of wood, exposed beams, etc.), but gargantuan in size. Think high-end, tech-friendly, funked-up loft style, then add some post-industrial industry back into the brew.

Take Four Barrel, for instance. Here's their selection of freshly roasted coffees:

fig. c: interior design 1, Four Barrel

And here's the coffee roasting operation that's housed just beyond their twin banks of espresso machines.

fig. d: interior design 2, Four Barrel

Add a turntable, a sizable collection of vintage vinyl, and a crowd of die-hard coffee aficionados, many of them with new media devices in tow, and you start to get the picture. This place was positively buzzing with Mission cool. And the buzz was addictive. Montreal likes to think of itself as a coffee town, and it is, but this was next-level.

Or take Sightglass, another of our favorite coffee joints.

fig. e: interior design 1, Sightglass

At the time of our visit, Sightglass was just a tiny hole in the wall in another gorgeous post-industrial space. Just a small counter, an espresso machine, a bench, and some basic appliances.

fig. f: interior design 2, Sightglass

Their roasting operation was next door, mostly out of view. But only temporarily. You see, they were busy transforming the warehouse space that surrounded the shop into another gigantic new-school café, and all indications were that this too would be a marvel of design.

(Again, to put this into local perspective. Take one of our favorite Montreal restaurant spaces, one that was created/renovated in recent years, and one whose design bears quite a bit of resemblance to a place like Four Barrel: La Salle à Manger. Imagine opening a space like La Salle à Manger, putting just as much care and attention into the reno, and then devoting it entirely to coffee. No food (okay, maybe just a few pastries), no alcohol, just coffee. Crazy, right? Well, that's exactly what's going on in SF.)

Most importantly, though, both places were roasting some truly mind-blowing coffees, like Sightglass' Blueboon Blend, and both had the chops to turn them into the headiest of brews.

Four Barrel Coffee, 375 Valencia St., San Francisco, (415) 252-0800 (Mission)

Sightglass Coffee, 270 Seventh St., San Francisco, (415) 861–1313 (SoMa)

fig. g: Ritual mobile unit

Other recommended SF coffee establishments:

a) new school

Ritual Coffee Roasters, 1026 Valencia St., San Francisco, (415) 641-1011 (Mission), plus two other locations

Another of the pioneering new-school cafés/roasteries, and the only one I can think of whose beans are available here in Montreal (at Myriade)

b) "hand-made"

Philz Coffee, 3101 24th St., San Francisco, (415) 875-9370 (Mission)

you know full-well how much we love Philz (Philz's?) original location on 24th--Philz has franchised widely since 2005 (they now have 7 locations!), but the original store still has all the old charm, not to mention those killer Philharmonics

aj

* to use the local parlance

p.s. Way to go, Giants!

Green Mountain Getaway 1

fig. a: Mad River Valley

We saw a lot of mountains (including some that still had snow on 'em), and we drove over and around quite a few more, but we didn't get around to climbing any, because our spring getaway to Vermont took place several weeks ago, right in the thick of what they call Mud Season in the Green Mountain region. So our only hike of the trip was actually just a six-mile walk along the greenway that cuts through the Mad River Valley, and most of our discoveries were made indoors.

Cold Hollow Cider Mill

fig. b: SH CIDER HOT CIDER BAK

One could hardly call Cold Hollow Cider Mill a "discovery." A sign out in the parking lot indicated where tour buses should stop to unload their busloads of passengers. They also have a 1-800 number. But we'd never been, so it was new to us.

Cold Hollow Cider Mill is exactly that--a big, ole cider mill that allows you to waltz through the works and check out where they press their famous apple cider. They're also famous for cider-based products like their apple cider jelly. But the main reason we were there was for the doughnuts--the apple cider doughnuts Michelle and I are such big fans of, and that Cold Hollow Cider Mill is legendary for. They were good, damn good, but what really caught my eye was that beautiful Lady apple on the wall next to the coffee machine. I asked the guy behind the counter if I could take a picture of it and he just said, "Uh, yeah. Whatever." So I did.

Red Hen Baking Co. + Nutty Steph's

fig. c: CHOCOLATE BUNNIES HOT CROSS BUNS HERE

Red Hen Baking Co. sits in Middlesex, just a few miles away, and Michelle had heard that they were making some of Vermont's finest loaves of bread. We went twice. The first time was just to take a peek, check out the baking schedule, a have a nibble (a fantastic potato bread roll). The sign out front read "HOT CROSS BUNS," but it was late afternoon by that point and they were out, so we made plans to return early the next morning for pastries and a coffee.

fig. d: Chocolate giraffe

This being Vermont, Red Hen shares a space with a knitting shop and an artisanal chocolate-maker/granola-maker. We didn't get to meet her to verify, but the chocolate-maker/granola-maker goes by the name of Nutty Steph ("It doesn't get any nuttier than this!"). Frankly, we were a little scared of a concoction that consisted of a chocolate-covered banana coupled ever so suggestively with a chocolate-covered pineapple ring and that came complete with a suitably saucy name--"Tropical Intercourse," or "Jungle Love," or something--but we can vouch for Nutty Steph's exceptional chocolate bark, which kept me revved up and rarin' to go for the better part of the next 36 hours. The Nutty Steph's story started with real, honest-to-goodness, maple-sweetened Vermont-style granola, however, and granola remains the bread and butter of the operation. Like I said, this is Vermont, after all, and the fact that artisanal granola is a viable option here is one of the reasons we find ourselves so fascinated by the place.

Vermont Artisan Coffee & Tea Co.

fig. e: COFFEE LAB

On our way out to Red Hen/Nutty Steph's we passed a mysterious place that was situated down off US Route 2, in a warehouse-like building, but that had an intriguing sign out front: Coffee Lab. I turned to Michelle and said, "I bet you there are some seriously entrenched hippies in there roasting some far-out beans." I had a good feeling about the place, so we made a pledge to take a closer look on our way back.

Thank god we did.

45 minutes later we pulled into the parking lot in front of Coffee Lab. I was good and ready for some kind of transcendental coffee experience, but as we walked up towards the door I suddenly got the strange feeling that we had misread Coffee Lab. Maybe it wasn't the hippie roasting outfit we were both hoping for. Maybe it was just some oh-so hip design firm with a suitably caffeinated name, because all we could see on the inside was an office set-up, some computers, and a small group of people standing near the door having a discussion. It was almost 5:00 pm. Was it closing time at the design firm, or something? I was just about ready to head back to the car, but Michelle, who was apparently experiencing a rare instance of chutzpah, forged right ahead, through the door, into their circle, and, mustering her best Rita Hayworth, announced, "I'm afraid I interrupted something."*

Turns out the group consisted of a handful of Aussies who'd flown halfway around the world to seek the wisdom of one Mané Alves, founder of Vermont Artisan Coffee & Tea Co. and of the Coffee Lab that adjoins it. And why had these Aussies flown halfway around the world to seek Mr. Alves' wisdom? Well, it just so happens that Mr. Alves is a world-renowned expert on coffee, a man who not only travels the world sourcing his coffee, who not only runs a sophisticated roasting operation, but whose opinions on coffees, roasts, and blends is prized by firms large and small from around the world.

So, no, this wasn't a coffee shop, but it was a small-scale but major-league roasting operation, and Mr. Alves was a true gentleman. Though neither the Coffee Lab nor Vermont Artisan Coffee & Tea Co. is a retail operation, their doors are open to the public and locals do swing by to pick up their top-notch coffee. We ended up having a nice, long conversation with Mr. Alves about Vermont Artisan Coffee & Tea Co., its history, its sourcing, and its latest ventures, about Montreal (as a young man in the early 1970s, he'd been urged by relatives to relocate to Montreal and become a lawyer, where he was told the recent influx of Portuguese immigrants would mean unlimited business; he opted for Vermont instead) and its surprising lack of artisanal coffee operations (which he attributes to powerful regional coffee cartels operating just north of the border), we got a tour of the premises and got to check out their current line of beans firsthand, and, when we were done, we got Mr. Alves' advice on which of his coffees we should take home with us. After years of abiding by the corsé culte, in recent months we've becoming big fans of such medium roasts as Philz "Canopy of Heaven" and Kicking Horse's "Kootenay Crossing." Mr. Alves highly recommended his Ethiopian Yirgacheffe,

fig. f: yirgacheffe

and he was right on the money.

Hands down, our Coffee of the Year.

The Alchemist

fig. f: tapheads

It seems hard to believe now, but the fun had just begun. Literally minutes after leaving Vermont Artisan Coffee & Tea Co., we were sitting at The Alchemist's, big, handsome bar, quaffing some of their handcrafted extreme beers. Sometimes you want to go where everybody knows your name and they're always glad you came. Other times you want to go where everybody knows your name, they're always glad you came, and they've got an exceptionally talented brewmaster who uses only the best imported malts and the hoppiest domestic hops and who knows his way around his seven barrels. That's when you go to a place like The Alchemist. And, let me tell you, this place is serious. Not only do you overhear guys having serious discussions about serious beers, but you also hear them having serious discussions about each other's limited-edition serious beer t-shirts. Seriously. Hell, even their Lightweight, a pilsener-style beer "made with the light beer drinker in mind" was a serious trip.

fig. g: samplers sampled

Unfortunately, we didn't get a chance to try their hand-pulled, cask-conditioned ale, because they only do one batch per week, and we'd shown up on Day 7 of the ale cycle, but we loved their assortment of British-inspired, Belgian-inspired, German-inspired, Hoppy, and "American Wild" beers, and their $4 pints and $1 samplers made enjoying them awfully easy.

Good-looking food, too. We didn't partake, however, because we had a dinner date.

A Brief Stroll

We still had a little time after quaffing and before dinner, so we took a stroll around Downtown Waterbury,

fig. h: W is for...

and imagined what it would be like to live in such an enlightened place.

Hen of the Wood

fig. i: mud season @ the grist mill

It was almost dark by the time we finally made it to Hen of the Wood, but the old grist mill which houses the restaurant had a promising glow to it.

Hen of the Wood was our star attraction, the single most important reason we'd come down to Vermont in the first place.

Michelle had been talking about Hen of the Wood even before Mark "The Minimalist" Bittman began gushing about how he's "sort of in love with the joint" last year, but afterwards the phrase "Hen of the Wood" became something of a mantra for her. It sounded like a little slice of heaven: a top-notch restaurant that places a pronounced emphasis on all things local, environmentally sound, and sustainable, that features a carefully chosen All-American wine list and an equally carefully chosen All-Vermont cheese list, and that is situated in an old stone mill, next to gushing rapids, in a sleepy Northern Vermont town. And with a menu that included such highlights as

Hen of the Woods Mushrooms, Grilled Vermont Bacon, Poached Egg, & Grilled Red Hen Bread

Smoked Cavendish Quail, Mustard Spaetzle, & Braised Greens

&

Winding Brook Farm Pork Loin, Local Fingerlings, Turnips, Valentine Radishes & Parsnips with House-made Red Wine Mustard

plus some truly wonderful service, Hen of the Wood lived up to all expectations. Put simply, we had such a good time at Hen of the Wood that we didn't really want to leave. When we finally managed to tear ourselves away, we spent the whole drive back to our motel through that crisp, starry Vermont night trying to figure out a way we could relocate to Waterbury.

Cold Hollow Cider Mill, 3600 Waterbury-Stowe Road, Waterbury Center, VT, 1-800-3-APPLES, www.coldhollow.com

Red Hen Baking Co., 961-B US Route 2, Middlesex, VT, (802) 223-5200, www.redhenbaking.com

Nutty Steph's, 961-C US Route 2, Middlesex, VT, (802) 229-2090, www.nuttystephs.com

Vermont Artisan Coffee & Tea Co., 80 Commercial Drive, Waterbury, VT, (802) 244-8338, toll-free 1 (866) 882-7876, www.vtartisan.com

The Alchemist, 23 South Main Street, Waterbury, VT, (802) 244-4120, www.AlchemistBeer.com

Hen of the Wood, 92 Stowe Street, Waterbury, VT, (802) 244-7300, www.henofthewood.com

* The line appears in Howard Hawks' Only Angels Have Wings (1939).

Philz in the house

"Good things come to those who wait," right? Politically, I've always found that dictum a little suspect, but in other spheres of life it's not without its merits, I guess. For one thing, fasting and feasting traditionally served as the natural rhythm of most societies. Then there's that clinical study Michelle and I heard about on CBC 1 a couple of weeks ago: the one where children were basically told, "You could either have this one cookie here in front of you now, or if you wait an hour I'll give you five cookies. Which option would you prefer?" The two groups of children--the impulsive ones who need to be gratified instantly, and the ones who were willing to wait to get gratified five times as much--were then periodically studied over the course of a lifetime, in a manner not unlike Michael Apted's Seven Up! series. Guess which group turned out to be a "more productive" part of society?

Well, we here at "...an endless banquet," always keen to prove that we belong to The Elect, have patiently done without Philz coffee truly extraordinary coffee for months and months, and for our tremendous patience we were rewarded with not one but two bags of Philz coffee--one bag of Philz Philharmonic and one bag of Jacob's Wunderbar--a few weeks ago when Michelle's sister, N., returned from a trip out west. From the moment we opened that bag of Philz Philharmonic, the first blend that flipped our lids back in 2005, it was love all over again. And from the moment we brewed our first two cups of Philz Philharmonic, it was true love. The only thing left was to "make love" to our coffee, as Phil would say (remember, we'd been "saving ourselves" for this moment for months and months), but we were out of the whole green cardamom necessary to give Philz Philharmonic that Philz touch. So we headed off to Jean-Talon Market to pay Olives et Épices a visit.



The timing couldn't have been more perfect, because when we arrived, Ethné de Vienne, just back from a 3-week trip to India and Sri Lanka, told us that they'd returned with the most phenomenal cardamom ever. Not the Guatemalan variety that we usually get here in North America, but real Sri Lankan cardamom. We checked it out and took a sniff and, sure enough, it was the most perfumed cardamom we'd ever encountered. We snatched a canister (not without stopping at the till first, mind you) and raced back home, and within about 15 minutes of arrival we were savoring a proper cup of cardamom-laced Philz Philharmonic. Bliss. The only thing we forgot was the mint leaf. Sorry, Phil.

Anyway, if you're going to San Francisco, pay Philz a visit. If you know someone who's going to Frisco, get them to pay a visit on your behalf and show some love (i.e., bring some back). If neither of these scenarios apply, you could always mail order some of Philz magical blends. Call in your order and you might even get to talk to Phil himself. Imagine.

aj

Revelation 1: Philz

Philz Philharmonic
Originally uploaded by michelle1975.

Getting back on the food tip (as they say), our trip to San Francisco was made up of a series of revelations, some of which had a rather profound impact. Not the least of these occurred on Day 1. Somehow we'd gotten ourselves booked on a hellish flight plan on our way out to California, one that took us from Montreal to New York at 6:00 A.M., then continued on to San Francisco International Airport with a 6-hour flight. The gods were apparently smiling down upon us, though, 'cause we scored these amazing seats on the New York-San Francisco leg that were in their own little quiet compartment, between two sections in coach class and next to a flight attendants' workstation, and that had seats that fully reclined (!). We showed up in San Francisco in half-way decent shape, actually, and because it was still only noon when we got there, we had a half-day to play with.

We decided to not waste any time and just head down to the Mission District from my sister's apartment in Noe Valley and dig in to our first burrito of the journey. For our first one we went to a place I've been going to for about 10 years now and which I've always found friendly and tasty: Casa Sanchez. Not only do they make excellent tacos and burritos, but their salsa and chips are outstanding, free, and "bottomless" (courtesy of a handy self-service bar), and they have a beautiful courtyard.

Afterwards, we were in the mood for our first coffee of the day. We'd made an attempt to score a coffee in JFK, but the results were undrinkable. I'd told Michelle that San Francisco was riddled with good coffee houses and espresso bars--this was her first time to San Francisco, after all--and that, in fact, San Francisco was one of the few cities in America where you'd been able to get good, strong coffee prior to about 1990. A couple of blocks up 24th St. from Casa Sanchez we came across a coffee house, and it looked kind of interesting. It had a generic sign outside declaring that its coffee had won a Best in the Bay award, but what really intrigued us was their own sign announcing the fact that they served "handmade" coffee and that each coffee was made "one cup at a time." We didn't know it at the time, but the gods were smiling down upon us once again.

Behind the bar they had a sign listing all their espresso-based drinks, but they also had a sign with all their "handmade" coffee selections, and each of these sounded a whole lot more interesting. I initially ordered a Arabic-style "handmade" coffee, but when another patron ordered a "Philharmonic" blend I asked the barista to change my order to one of the same. She ground just enough coffee beans for my order, then threw them into a large, long paper coffee filter held in a stand and placed the coffee cup underneath. Then she threw a couple of secret potions into the filter along with the beans and added a long, steady stream of boiling water. She asked me if I wanted cream and sugar and I said, "yes." A minute or two later she handed over my perfectly brewed, perfectly creamy, and perfectly sweetened Philharmonic and I headed over to where Michelle was sitting. I took a sip on the way and it nearly blew my mind. I took the lid off the coffee and saw that it had a mint sprig on top. I handed to cup to Michelle and said, "You're not going to believe this."

Neither of us had ever tasted a coffee as exotic or delicious ever before. We both take our coffee quite seriously and we've both done a fair bit of traveling, but we'd never experienced anything like that first Philz "handmade" coffee, with its strong hints of cardamom, its wonderfully mellow depth, and its mint finish (sounds crazy, I know, but the sprig is really an stroke of genius).

Needless to say, we got seriously hooked by that first Philz coffee and Philz became a touchstone for our trip. We went back at least half a dozen times and we tried almost all of the "handmade" blends they offer. We made a point of initiating my sister into the brotherhood (she'd never been), and then we started making the silliest excuses just so we could pass by Philz. The Philharmonic remained a favorite throughout the trip, but we also became very attached to the Jacob's "Wunderbar," which was a little less spicy, but was made with a stronger roast, and the Phil's Tesoro Mocha was also a big hit, although the intensity of its chocolate flavor made it a "special occasions" blend for us.

One time we stopped by and Michelle ran in for a couple of take-away coffees before we headed out to Treasure Island. When she got to the bar Phil himself was waiting for her. He asked her how she was doing and she responded, "I'll be a lot better once I've had my Wunderbar." Phil looked at her and said, "You're already fine." She was on Cloud 10 when she got back to the car--Phil is a very charming man who sports a dashing and unpretentious fedora and has a sly sense of humor. Which brings me to another point: the atmosphere at Philz takes a close second to their amazing coffees. Like many other San Francisco coffee houses the interior design is whimsical and eclectic and the place is frequented by regulars who can only be described as "true originals," but how many other coffee houses in San Francisco (or anywhere else, for that matter) can you purchase a potted plant with your coffee?

interior decor, Philz
Originally uploaded by michelle1975.

By the end of our trip I was only half-joking that Philz alone had been worth the price of our airfare out to San Francisco, but if you don't believe our hype, check out the testimonials that you can find online on the topic of Philz, or, better yet, go there yourself.

Actually, let me finish with yet another anecdote. Last night, we were gathered at Le Pocket Palace, talking with Hermine and Kazi about our trip over a glass of wine. We had gotten on the topic of Philz, as we're wont to do these days, and we were giving them the full lowdown: the "handmade" process, the use of spices and herbs, the devoted following, the rapture, etc. I was going off on some spiel about San Francisco being a city of coffee houses, but that nothing could compare with this coffee house we'd found there, when I noticed a young woman listening in on our conversation, waiting to see which coffee house I was going to name, waiting to weigh in with her own opinion. When I named the coffee house in question as Philz, she turned to us and said, "You mean the place on 24th?" Turns out she had lived just around the corner on 25th St. for six months and had become a very regular regular during her time there. Imagine her surprise. Imagine ours.

Casa Sanchez, 2778 24th St., San Francisco, CA, (415) 282-2400

Philz Coffee (a.k.a. Phil's Coffee, a.k.a. Gateway Market), 3101 24th St., San Francisco, CA, (415) 282-9155

aj