Space

Quarter to one. The quiet is different. The sound of cars passing outside does not carry with it the roll of the highway or the speed of the busy neighborhood surrounding. We are out of the city, outside the familiar community and narrow potholed streets. We are back contained within walls we left so many years ago. It is foreign and too close, separate but comfortable, a guest at home. I left. I left the rhythm of my little Greenwood house because I had to. Because I couldn't stay and see things not change. I packed clothes into a messenger bag and shut the door behind me. I pulled together what I knew was mine and moved it out of those walls and into boxes taped shut and put into storage. Heart aching for unfinished conversations and things left to accomplish that no longer can happen in that space. I'm adjusting. But it is strange. I'm finding stability over breakfast with supportive friends, over cups of coffee at familiar shops, in bending over my kitchen-aid carefully sifting flour into butter or separating yolks in my palms.

Time Out

This change is infectuous, overwhelming and complicated. There are new beans in the hoppers, new bags on our shelves. We are beaming with excitement, the eagerness to demonstrate proficiency and confidence in our brewing coming out in every pour. We are tired but willing to push through because we can see the promise of where we are heading.

The sun is starting to draw itself out of the cloud cover. I can see the warmth building through the cafe windows as I nibble on my scone and sip the remnants of my latte. This is comfort, rest: me with my legs tucked up on the barstool reading, the cracking of the roaster, the tangible earthy sweetness of the latest batch of beans cooling.

It has been a crazy stressful couple of weeks, so much pressure and long hours. I have not given myself time to just sit and let my muscles unwind, so this morning is a welcome gift. Much like the loyalty of a staff. A comfortable dinner with a friend to laugh or talk through things. A day devoted to only pots de creme and clean socks and chasing a seven year old around a park on a sunny Sunday.


Blueberry Wollondi Pots de Creme

This pot de creme was inspired simply by a cup of Ethiopian Wollondi that tasted so fiercely like blueberries, I knew I had to incorporate it into a dessert. The coffee itself was so fragrant even from grinding, and upon tasting, the bright citrus came out as well.

The coffee flavor here was not that strong, and since you won't be able to get your hands on these specific beans now, another lighter-roasted fruity coffee (think African for the berry tones) would work. I followed Whisk-Kid's recipe and left out the chocolate, as I didn't want too many flavors competing and the blueberry to not be the central focus.
Geeky note: after further tasting and discussing, I am playing with other ways to incorporate the coffee flavor into the cream. Check back for updates as I tweak and play. :)

That said, this will not disappoint.

Coffee Pots de Creme

3 cups heavy cream
1/2 tsp vanilla extract
1/4 cup whole coffee beans

6 egg yolks
1/2 c sugar
3 tbls brewed coffee (or espresso- see geeky note)

Preheat your oven to 325 degrees F.

Combine cream, extract and coffee beans in heavy saucepan, and heat until simmering, letting the beans infuse into the cream. When heated, strain out beans using a mesh collander, and let the cream cool on the counter.

Whisk together egg yolks and sugar until light and fluffy in texture (about 3 min). Slowly temper the cream into the egg sugar mixture by adding a small bit at a time, whisking constantly so mixture will not curdle. Continue adding until cream is fully incorporated.

Stir in brewed coffee. (I brewed a slightly stronger cup through pour-over in my baby Hario, but the original recipe used espresso instead). Pour mixture into 8 6-oz ramikens (they will fill about half way- this is good!), and place the filled ramekins in a baking pan with an inch or two of warm water. Bake pots de creme in water bath for approximately 35 min. They will be jiggly in the center but mostly firm when they are done. They should cool about ten minutes in the pan before taking them out and letting them cool on the rack. Once cool enough, they should fully set in the fridge for at least two hours before serving.

Meanwhile... make the Blueberry reduction!

Blueberry-Lemon Sauce

2 cups blueberries, washed
1/3 c sugar
Zest of 1 lemon
1 tbl lemon juice
1/2 tsp vanilla extract

Pour blueberries into saucepan, and using a potato masher, gently squish berries to release juices. Add sugar, lemon zest, juice and extract. On medium heat, bring blueberry sauce to a gentlt boil, stirring to keep berries from sticking to bottom of pan. When sauce begins to thicken, remove from heat and strain through fine mesh strainer (so you'd better have washed the one you used for the coffee beans, or you're going to have to do it now!). It may take a bit of coaxing with the back of a spoon to get all the juices out of the berries. The sauce will be a deep sparkly purple-blue. Put bowl of sauce in fridge to cool completely.

Once Pots de creme and sauce have cooled completely, spoon or pour a layer of blueberry sauce over the top of the custards. Evenly distribute sauce over all the ramekins. Sauce-topped custards will stay fresh covered in fridge for a couple days, though I dare say you will have a hard time making them last that long.

Soothe

For a recent goodbye party, a halting awkward sorrowful last day, I made poppyseed lime cupcakes, topped with a lime-zet buttercream and dark poppyseeds that crunched between your teeth. They were decent; my buttercream came together without issue and the cupcakes were squat little rounds buttery and slightly tangy with citrus. I wanted to be happier about how pretty they were- I mean, look, they are adorable with their polka-dotted top.


But my heart just wasn't in it. There is such deep joy in baking for me- in baking, giving, celebrating- and this, for my vast attempts to be joyful, was a struggle. I am not good with change.

I however was renewed in my next effort: Coconut Almond cupcakes for a friend's birthday the following week. They were dense and moist, with pockets of shredded coconut and nuggets of marzipan that had stubbornly refused to incorporate, and so became tiny treasures buried in coconut-milk batter. I swooned. I beamed. I felt all the heart and happiness lacking in the poppyseed cakes was imparted into these little guys. I resisted, with great restraint, eating them all myself.



Coconut-Almond Cupcakes

1 cup butter, room temp
2 c sugar
4 oz marzipan or sweetened almond paste

2 eggs
1 tsp vanilla extract
1 1/2 tsp coconut extract

1 tsp salt
2 cups flour (the original recipe calls for cake flour)
1 1/2 tsp baking powder

1 cup coconut milk

3 egg whites
1/2 cup shredded coconut

In a stand mixer, cream together butter and sugar. Add in marzipan/almond paste and mix until combined. Add in two whole eggs, and both vanilla and coconut extracts.

Sift together all dry ingredients. Add half of dry ingredients to batter, then 1/2 of coconut milk, scraping the bowl as you go, then put in remaining coconut milk and flour mixture.

Beat egg whites until fluffy and soft peaks and fold gently into mixed batter along with the shredded coconut.

Bake in cupcake tins for 15-20 minutes at 350 degrees, or until toothpick comes out clean.

Makes 18 cupcakes, plus two 4 1/2 inch springform cakes. :)


Almond Buttercream
5 egg whites
1 cup sugar
2 sticks butter, left to soften on counter for half-an-hour
1 tsp almond extract

Start water boiling in a pot for the bottom of a double boiler. In the meantime, combine egg whites and sugar, whisking together gently until combined. I usually do this in the bowl of my stand mixer. When water boils, bring back down to a simmer, then position bowl over simmering water (making sure water does not touch bottom of pan). Whisk egg/sugar mixture for a few moments over double boiler, until mixture rubbed between thumb and finger comes away smooth and warmed, not grainy. It should "ribbon" into bowl in thin strings when pulled out of mixture.

Remove bowl from stovetop and immediately put back on stand mixer base. Using the whisk attachment, beat egg/sugar mixture on high until it forms a stiff-peak meringue. While this is mixing, cut butter into 1/2 tablespoon-sized pieces.

When meringue has come together, turn mixer down to medium-low speed. Start adding butter cubes, pausing between each to let the cube integrate into meringue. After all butter is in, turn mixer back up to medium-high and beat until frosting comes together. It should happen fairly quickly after speed is increased. If after a few moments the frosting is still liquidy, pull bowl off mixer and put in freezer for about five minutes, then whip again.

Pipe or spread onto cooled cupcakes and top with toasted coconut flakes.

Ground

Caramel corn. I plunge my nose closer to the wide-mouthed pint jar and breathe. The Sulawesi smells like caramel corn.

The cafe is sparsely filled, students clustered over books and laptops, two girls at the high table pasting hearts and sparkles on homemade valentines. The mid shift has ended and Rachel has gone home. With a eyebrow raise, I throw out a subtle "soooo did you bring coffee?" which prompts Brady to pull three jam jars from his bag with a grin.

Freshly roasted, small batches in an airpopper. The beans are brightly cocoa, dry and fragrant. Eagerly (but subtley, not at all excited about this), I unscrew the tops.

Ten minutes later, we've assembled our spread. Three squat glasses with precisely-measured grounds, spoons, water glasses, spit cups. The water is heating and the timer is set. We wait.

It is with an odd mixture of enjoyment and awkwardness that we break through the crust of grounds and start slurping. The customers seem too busy with whatever they're immersed in to notice our loud "FTTTTTTT!" as we suck the coffee over our tongues and then spit it back out after a moment of savoring. The El Salvador is brightly citrusy; the Sulawesi herby, with a black tea bitterness that contrasts so brightly with the glorious Panama next to it that is overwhelmingly chocolate, dark berries, honey sweetness.

I am amazed at the quality and, frankly, deliciousness, of these coffees. It is bittersweet to me that we are not prouder of what we pour daily, what we sell, especially since the scope of coffee in general is so grand. When my husband and I started dating, our first date was (I'm ashamed to say) at a Seattle's Best. I think I chose a white chocolate something, drowning the espresso in frothy milk and sweetness. When I started at the shop eight years ago, my drink of choice was heavy with fat and syrup, again masking the boldness of the coffee I have grown to love purely for itself now.

I dip my spoon into the glass again and scoop off the top, then bring it to my lips to taste. I am met with a spicy bittersweetness that swirls gently around my mouth long after I swallow the last drop.


Panama: Chocolate-Cardamom Cupcakes with Honey-Cinnamon Buttercream

The cupcakes were made from this recipe, with 3/4 tsp of ground cardamom added to the batter.
The buttercream was made from this delicious recipe, with a generous squirt of honey, a couple shakes of cinnamon, and 1/2 tsp of vanilla bean paste.