Coffee hunt

My search for good coffee is finally over. Before we moved to Seattle, I don't think we knew what good coffee really was. Then, after a few years living in the heart of the Starbuck's death star, we grew to understand coffee and its subtleties.

Eventually, we tasted the ultimate: home-roasted, home-ground, home-percolated coffee that was unbelievable. Who was our saviour? None other than Kim Cameron. Yes, that Kim Cameron.

Now, at home in Seattle, we have our own green beans delivered to the house. We roast them in our Italian roaster, grind them in our Italian grinder, and have great coffee every day. Gone are the days of lining up at a Starbucks. (Sorry Howard.)

We recently came across a blog post titled "How not to drink black tar in Paris?". I don't dislike the coffee in Paris but also don't yearn for it. The coffee in Paris is kind of like a slap that would wake you out of a sleep. Nothing wrong with an occassional slap - especially if leather is involved - but I don't particularly wish to endure one with every demi-tasse. As the blog author wrote:

...the French market is saturated with Robusta beans, grown in their own former African colonies. Robusta coffees are high in caffeine content, and brew into dark, oily, acidic liquid that gives me a toothache just thinking about it. In countries that are known for better coffees, like Italy and Spain, the predominant type of bean is Arabica, which is much more aromatic and less acidic than Robusta.

The author was kind enough to name a few places where one could either get a good cup of coffee or buy your own beans and have them ground. One of them was less than a 5 minute walk from our apartment which fortunately is equipped with both a mocha pot and a French press. I walked into Verlet and threw down the gauntlet, in French: Je cherche le bon cafe pour mon press, Monsieur - I'm looking for good coffee for my press. He smiled wryly at me and responded: Then you've found the right place, my friend!