Toronto City Life » starbucks

Sh*t Son, That Was Fun: 1

Katherine — Wed, 04 May 2011 16:50:22 +0000

Another busy weekend. Went downtown with my friend Naz and afterwards travelled to John’s hood for some wine and good times. Always good times with that guy.

Weekend started with some pictures in the kitchen. It’s the brightest room in the house. This is great in the Winter when we get about 12 minutes of sunshine a week, but in the Summer it’s brutal. The blinds stay closed all Summer. Right. I am remembering how effing hot it gets in there.

Did my nails again. Look at these bitch nails. Seriously, Raymi the Minx has turned me into a monster. She always gets her nails done all beautiful and it inspires me to do my own all shit-like compared to hers. At least I am making an effort. No longer am I a disgusting boy! I actually shower sometimes a lot more these days! Are you proud of me? Also, you should check Raymi out. I PROMISE you, you will not be disappointed. She is like crack. And while I am plugging people, you need to check out Toronto City Life. Awesome guy, awesome blog. And yours truly is a syndicated contributor over there!

Sorry Beethoven, my nails need a little air time and your head looks as good as any.

So this is my new bag. I was hankering for an expensive one. See? Turning into a pure girl over here. I thought about this purchase for a LONG time because it was expensive. I was going to go for a brand name guy, but at the last minute went to my fast-becoming favourite shop Fresh, and saw this one of a kind Moira Coughlan dumpling bag. At first I was like FUUUUUCK that’s a lot of money for a bag (c’mon it wasn’t THAT bad), but damn I love it more than life. I would save it in a fire if it meant I would burn myself.

Dave had some guys over to watch the fight. He is on the phone planning out his little date here. The picture below is hilarious because he was telling me that this guy was coming over who was a little wild and crazy (an actor, they all are), and that they were going to crush cans on their foreheads and drop pizza all over the carpet. My face says it all.

Guys, meet my friend Naz. GODDAMN she is beautiful. For a few years we were mostly work friends, but recently we went out for coffee. Like, on a weekend. We took it to the next level you could say. A sexy, going-out-for-coffee-level.

Oh hey look! It’s John! How’s it going my love? Yes, we can stop at Starbucks and you can get 124 shots of espresso. Not sure how you are still alive after that one.

It was sunny! I was happy!

Look at that sexy bag.

Super rich people Starbucks. I looked like a death slob compared to everyone else in that place.

We stopped at John’s parents house for an old photo album so we could laugh at our dumb early university selves. John’s parents’ basement is like a plethora of awesome things. There are literally amazing things everywhere you look. I want to spend a day down there and skip through the treasures and play with everything.

Every time I go to John’s house I am like FULL LENGTH MIRROR! We don’t have one so it’s always a surprise to see my body after so long. So THAT’S what you look like legs!

One of my favourite pictures of all time. John has good taste.

Oh hey there Joh…STICKS IN THINGS!! I have a bit of an obsession with sticks. Like, IN THINGS.

Love.

Where we sat for the majority of the evening. In my old age, I suddenly have vertigo when I go out onto balconies. I have a strange urge to throw myself off of it and get it over with. Not because I have a death wish, but because I am terrified that I am going to fall anyway, so why not end the terror?

Bean! Remember when she was pregnant? She gave birth to three of the sweetest kittens ever!! She really wanted out there with us, but yeah right.

I asked John to take a picture of me out there on the balcony. I had my arms raised and he told me I had pit stains. Only I DON’T! Ass.

This is my ‘fuck you John’ face.

Better. Ass.

Had a few at this point. Maybe.

Laugh. It does a body REALLY good.

Part two, coming right up!

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To Cheryl,

Patrick — Tue, 15 Feb 2011 22:50:18 +0000

Please toss your disused cups of flavoured filth in the trash. Just because your pay through the nose for your “coffee” and your Macintosh says you’re special that doesn’t make it so. At least not in the traditional sense. Oh, and maybe consider making a Facebook profile somewhere other than in your mind before advertising it; just a suggestion.

Thanks.

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Black, pitch, and very very grande

Patrick — Thu, 09 Apr 2009 02:29:03 +0000

Are you reading this with coffee? No? Well, do you wanna get one? I can wait…

I think it’s good to immerse yourself in a subject much, as it happens, like good coffee in hot water. It provides a much richer froth of experience and warm sensory delectation. Mmmm, I know you can taste it.

Now let me tell you why Second Cup is UH-SO-MUCH (said with gusto!), better than Starbucks. First, let’s take a detour to the basics: the bean. It starts as the green seed of a red cherry. The cherry part is stripped or sometimes left to dry off, the husk around the two beans in the center (sometimes one) is dried off along with the beans themselves, then they’re bagged, stored, and shipped. Basically: strip, dry, husk, bag, and deliver.

Up until this point, with the exception of coming from different equatorial regions around the world, most beans are pretty much the same. Green, there’s not much flavour. When slow roasted, though, some kinda magical alchemical reaction takes place in the bean and it starts to slowly release all sorts of flavourful oils onto its surface as it browns.

The lightest roast is green-brown. You probably wouldn’t want to drink it; probably something like boiled cabbage and two-day-old underwear. When brown, the next step up, the bean is nicely toasted throughout, but there’s no oil on the surface. The next roast up is medium. Here you can easily see oily spotting on the bean. Finally, with a dark roast, the bean is visibly blackened and very oily all over. If you’ve ever bought a French or Italian roast, that’s the guy.

So, the next time you step into a Starbucks, don’t forget that you’ve just wasted however long it took you to read that. If you skipped it, good for you. It’s pretty much irrelevant because everything at Starbucks is cinder. That’s the American style of producing “strong” coffee; burn the bean to hell and back and throw in milk and sugar like it went out of style two seasons ago.

But I don’t want to be too critical. Good blackened beans are good for a proper frothy espresso or espresso-based drinks.
Which I barely ever have.
End of story.

Second Cup, on the other hand, runs the whole gamut of browns. If you visit their bean counter, they usually have a display mounted front and center where they show off what I described above. There’s usually not much guess work between a light roast and a medium roast; just look at the differences in oil on the surface. I’ve been told their default dark roast is a bit sub-par but, at more than one location, they’ve made special cups from freshly ground bagged beans from the bean counter. Never hurts to ask because that’s how you might hit on that one awesome bean.

Not only that but the majority of their stuff is excellent; fair-trade-before-fair-trade ones like my fave of faves, La Minita Tarrazu, a coffee that has never disappointed. Mellow and just so laid back. That coffee doesn’t have a care in the world.

Summatran/Indonesian blends are also very accessible; their sun curing process creates a coffee that in some seasons tastes like cocoa. When done in a french press, it creates a really rich brew with some of the very fine particles of coffee suspended in the liquid. This thick hot suspension and it’s aroma of nuts and chocolate all get plunged into a sweetened steamed-milk bath. Like I said, accessible.

At Starbucks, the choices are basically: black, pitch, inner-anus, and very very dark. Even with caramel, I don’t like them odds.

Buy proud Canadian coffee instead! Raise that morning cup ‘o northen glory high and pronounce with pride: