Hot Coffee

Writing about Black Russians last December, I was struck anew by the cultural importance of coffee. I can think of no beverage other than wine with such a vivid social profile. Since it first appeared on western shores, coffee has informed our cultural identity. Diners along dusty stretches of the American road have lured weary travelers inside with the neon invitation for a hot cuppa since we became a car culture. The most famous road traveler was a keystone of the beat literary movement, and popularly if not exactly literally the beats exemplified the craze of the beatnik coffeehouse, where poetry and espresso were served tableside to the starvinghystericalnaked in black turtlenecks. Those espressos redoubled their cultural impact when a certain Seattle-based coffee vendor opened its first counter outside the city limits and latte became a term as common to mallrats as it once had been exclusive to sophisticates.

Few slurps move us to the flights of fancy that coffee does. In Black Coffee, that freshly brewed pot’s capacity to keep us awake becomes a conduit for expression both wry and rueful for great vocalists from Peggy Lee to Julie LondonOne of my favorite mystery writers, Cleo Coyle, brews a successful series featuring a historic Greenwich Village coffee house. Coffee books occupy their own shelf in the food and wine section of the local bookstore -- two I've written about before are Coffee Love and Cafe Life. Perhaps it’s my own fancy, but I believe that coffee has a special relationship with writers. I myself can verify that there are days when I might not leave the house at all if I wasn’t headed to the coffeehouse to log a couple of hours over a manuscript and an Americano.

On the homekeeping front, almost any fundamental cookbook – the kind given to new homekeepers at their housewarming – contains instructions for brewing coffee. Depending on the period of and audience for the book, this might include anything from grinding the beans and feeding them into a stovetop percolator (remember to keep the pot holders handy) to brewing urn coffee for a crowd (thoroughly clean the unit with vinegar and water the day before brewing to cut down on bitterness). Most vintage entertaining books contain a section on the coffee klatsch, an informal afternoon gathering of neighbors where the thoughtful host/ess will offer a house specialty baked good – usually a quick bread, perhaps of the species "coffee ring" that evolved just for the occasion – along with fresh hot coffee. This event was a reaction to the complimentary and more established practice of afternoon tea, but coffee’s cozy aura encouraged fellowship over teatime’s fussy rules. We still have the coffee klatsch, though not always in our homes -- how often do you and your friends make plans to meet at the coffee bar?

Coffee aficionados get absolutely buzzed over their favorite beans and the sources for them. A true coffee connoisseur is as exacting in palate and about terroir as any oenophile. And, just as with wine, some drinkers want to know the exact hillside the berries were grown on, and from there they can and will determine how the growing conditions – sun, wind, rain, soil quality, the phase of the moon, the maturation of the plant – affected the brew. As with wine, coffee know-how and know-what are the currency of the orthodoxy. One way you will know you are among such is that coveted beans often have colorful names: Blue Mountain and Purple Princess are two such.

In our urban home, a morning cup is de rigeur, but so is an afternoon pick-me-up -- even, on weekends, evening demitasse. The coffee station is set up between the kitchen windows, where the view through cream colored curtains is of the courtyard, including the bat house. For years, we used an electric percolator -- its steel curves struck a suitably retro note while brewing a strong cup. But with the move to this then-new apartment came a new Cuisinart, and this workhouse has long since become coffee maker in residence both for the quality of its coffee and the indefatigability of its brewing. At night or for gatherings, though, I still break out the French Press. It's perfect for carrying on a tray, and as the brewing method ritualizes making the coffee, the press' deco sleekness references coffee's continental nature.

As for the beans themselves, there are specialty beans and house blends. As food and lifestyle writer I've had the chance to sample special brews: a spicy Jamaican bean that left me wanting more; a buttery Mexican bean that, sorry to say, left me wanting; a velvety Ethiopian bean that the coffee master swore was from the first cultivars in Abyssinia. My favorite single bean coffee, though, is Kona, which grows in the volcanic soils of Hawaii and is usually priced accordingly. This brings up an interesting point that is among coffee's special characteristics: soil quality, condition and composition are vitally important to the plants, and some coffee tasters swear they can detect the soil in the finished brew. If we are aware of terroir in our wine glass then why wouldn't we be in our cup? There is a smoky quality to Kona, which to me evokes the volcanic soil it grows in.

We always keep a few blends on hand, rotating them based on availability, season, and, yes, whim. We are fortunate to have a legendary coffee vendor in New York City, and aside from an excuse to traipse around Greenwich Village a trip to McNulty's keeps us stocked in French Roast Java Mountain Supreme and Pumpkin Spice. French Roast Java, as you will hear it called when you enter this temple to Old New York, is the quintessential dark roast, with a deep, almost aphrodisial quality not unlike the sweet spot you'd expect in a good brandy. Pumpkin Spice is an agreeably spiced flavored coffee so beloved that it is part of our Thanksgiving day traditions.

From large providers, Starbuck's Yukon Blend lives up to its name with a bracing, intense darkness that, as a matter of fact, does make you feel as if you could race the Iditarod (or that you just did). It is similar to their Christmas Blend, which even coffee snobs of my acquaintance snap up by the bag during the short window of its availability. Trader Joe's Smooth and Mellow blend strikes a tonic note between bitter and smooth, recalling late night conversations over dessert plates picked clean. And Irving Farm's Gotham Blend, available at Whole Foods as well as online, is a showstopper: these bags of hand-crafted small batch roasts make a smooth and syrupy brew so delicious that I hereby declare it Best Cupping in Show.

Whatever you're brewing, following a few guidelines will guarantee a satisfying cup every time. First, buy coffee in small batches of whole beans and grind at most a day or two's worth at a time. If you need a grinder, Cuisinart's could not be improved on; you can order it here. Second, do not store coffee in the refrigerator or the freezer. Store coffee in an airtight container away from extremes of light, temperature and humidity. The best vessel for this practice is a ceramic or metal coffee canister with a rubberized locking lid; you can order a good one here. Third, use a correctly calibrated coffee scoop to measure coffee. Use one slightly rounded scoop of coffee per cup of cold, filtered water.  The standard coffee measure is two tablespoons; you can order my favorite coffee scoop here. And fourth, brew your coffee soon after you grind your beans and drink your coffee soon after you brew it. Coffee starts to deteriorate as soon as it's made, and after about twenty minutes is no longer drinkable. So don't let your coffee sit there -- drink it!