Fred Aiken Writing

Tag: coffee

November 8, 2024

How to Brew Coffee with an Aeropress

  • Pick a coffee. Any coffee will do. Most industry professionals will tell you that it needs to be whole bean, and freshly roasted, and naturally processed, and ethically sourced, and single origin, and have had no impact whatsoever on the environment lest that coffee be part of the problem rather than the solution. But I guess if those sorts of coffees aren’t available, then choose whatever is most convenient.
  • Grind the coffee. Unless it’s already pre-ground, in which case you can skip this step because while you’re coffee is a little more stale, you saved that extra five seconds of grinding it with an electric grinder or five minutes with a hand grinder, so you can take that extra time you saved and lord it over the plebeians that are stuck with having to grind their own damn coffee beans.
  • Invert the aeropress with the plunger level on the tabletop and put the ground coffee in the brewing chamber.
  • Heat up some water. You probably should have started with this as the first step. But it’s too early to remember the most efficient way to brew your coffee, and you just want the early-morning voices to shut up by drowning them out with as much caffeine as possible, but you can’t do that yet because you haven’t brewed the coffee. Begin to think this entire process is taking to long, and contemplate just buying a keurig. Yeah, sure, they’re really bad for the environment, and those little pods are outrageously marked up. But all it takes is pressing that little button in the morning and the damn thing spits out some pod coffee. And while pod-people coffee might taste like toilet-water sludge, it at least takes little to no effort, and you wouldn’t even be questioning your life choices at this moment. You’d be sipping on your shit pod coffee!
  • But hey, the water finishes heating up, so you no longer have to worry about killing the environment and, by extension, yourself because now you can pour the water into the brew chamber of your aeropress to the very tippy-top. Some coffee professionals measure out this whole process by using x amount of grams of coffee and y amount of grams of water. But your scale’s batteries died a month ago, and it always sucks buying batteries, and for some reason they’re always the most difficult things to remember to buy. And even when you remember to put batteries on the list to buy at the store, they’re never in a convenient place. It always feels like you’re on a scavenger hunt, and none of the employees at the store want to help in your quest to find some little lithium tube that looks suspiciously like a sex toy for gadgets, so instead you decide to go the easy route and just let all of your electronics that run on single-use batteries to die until your parents or sister gift you batteries for xmas or your birthday, though neither of those things are any time soon, so it’s best to just go without batteries. Go without measuring your coffee and water ratio properly. Like a maniac.
  • Wait!
  • Continue to wait. But less aggressively this time. Maybe pick up a book. Like one of those books that you keep on the shelf in the living room to impress guests that swing on by, even though none of those guests really care about the books that you pretend to have read because they’re too busy waiting in line for the new apple and orange product, or some such nonsense. Either that or your guests are too busy tweeting more so than being. But either way, after contemplating how things used to be and how much better everything was back when you were a kid, it will be time to filter the coffee so that you can get on with your day and stop reminiscing and/or romanticizing the past that never was or will be. Perhaps use a timer next time. That’s what all the cool coffee professionals do. But buying a timer does also mean you have to keep track of yet another material object—one that requires a battery of all things!
  • Drink black coffee! No matter how good or bad the coffee is, always drink it black. It’s not so much because of the purity of the matter, but rather because it’s better to taste the coffee rather than some saccharine abomination drowned out by too much milk, plant, moo-moo, or otherwise, and all those things keep adding up, like pennies weighing down your pockets without a thought. Before you know it, you’re pantless with a cup of milked-up luggernaught sludge sauce careening carelessly through your veins at top speeds, no brakes, until the thump of plague tears down your arteries from all that milky-way-out-there-too-far-out-there coffee you keep on drinking. No, no, no, my good sir or madam, tis better to bark up at the black moon of a cup of joe screaming to the testament of pure caffeine.
  • While thinking about how much money you saved, realize that this whole process might have been significantly easier if you had just gone to the cafe a couple blocks down the street. Sure, the markup would have been a couple hundred percentage points. But at least you wouldn’t have spent all this time grumbling and mumbling about this or that. Though if you’re being honest with yourself, and I sure hope you are, then it probably doesn’t matter one way or the other. You would have complained about your coffee no matter what, whether you made it yourself if you had some undergrad working to pay for their degree and cheerios made your coffee.
  • So, I dunno, maybe come to some realization that, sure, coffee might be an art form, but it’s kinda one of those plebeian art forms that everyone can do, and everyone can mess up, like royally mess it the f— up. So maybe don’t be so harsh, cause it’s kinda bringing down the mood on society’s buzz.
  • Rinse. Repeat. Coffee on.
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June 11, 2024

cold coffee//but not in a good way

my coffee went cold
because i left it next to the fan on my desk,
and i feel kinda dumb for that,
but at least it wasn’t all that good of a cup of coffee,
even when it was hot
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June 10, 2024

Luxury Crop//Good to the Last Drop

Daily writing prompt
What’s the one luxury you can’t live without?
View all responses

I often wonder what my life would be without coffee, but the thought is too grim to entertain for long. It’s not just the caffeine that hooks me; it’s the entire ritual, the rich tapestry of history, and the intricate processes behind each cup. Coffee isn’t just a beverage; it’s a luxury I can’t live without.

Every morning, I retreat to my little sanctuary—our living room couch—with a cup of coffee and a book.

I start with the beans. Not just any beans, mind you, but single-origin gems sourced from the highlands of Ethiopia. Yirgacheffe, specifically, known for its bright acidity and floral notes. These beans are the offspring of heirloom varietals, nurtured in the fertile, volcanic soil at an altitude of 2,000 meters. This terroir imparts a complexity to the beans that mass-produced coffee could never achieve.

Next comes the grind. I use a precision burr grinder that allows me to dial in the perfect grind size for a pour-over. Too coarse, and the water will rush through the grounds, leaving the brew weak and under-extracted. Too fine, and it’ll slow the drip, resulting in a bitter, over-extracted cup. The grind is a delicate balance, a fine line between perfection and disaster.

I weigh out 20 grams of beans, not a milligram more or less, and grind them fresh for each brew. As the grinder hums, releasing the intoxicating aroma of freshly ground coffee, I prepare my V60. I place a paper filter in the dripper, pre-wetting it with hot water to eliminate any paper taste and to warm the carafe below.

Water temperature is crucial—at exactly 201°F, or about 94∘C for those on the other side of the pond—or really anywhere else in the world, I suppose—it extracts the perfect balance of flavors from the grounds. Too hot, and you’ll scorch the beans; too cold, and you’ll miss out on the subtle nuances. I use a gooseneck kettle for precision, ensuring a steady, controlled pour.

As I pour a small amount of water over the grounds to bloom, the coffee bubbles and releases carbon dioxide, a sign of freshness. I wait for 30 seconds, allowing the bloom to settle, before continuing with a slow, circular pour. The water cascades through the grounds, drawing out a complex array of flavors.

The first sip is always a revelation. Bright acidity dances on my palate, followed by a cascade of flavors—blueberry, lemon zest, and a hint of dark chocolate. It’s a symphony of taste, a complex interplay of terroir, processing, and meticulous preparation.

But coffee is more than just a morning ritual. It’s a journey around the world, from the sun-drenched plantations of Colombia’s Huila region, where the beans are handpicked and meticulously processed, to the bustling streets of Tokyo, where baristas treat coffee preparation as a high art. I’ve visited cupping sessions in Guatemala, where I learned to discern the subtle differences between Bourbon and Caturra varietals, and attended barista championships in Milan, where the craft of coffee is celebrated with fervor.

This obsession extends beyond my kitchen. I own an AeroPress for travel, compact and versatile, allowing me to enjoy a quality brew even in the most remote locations, like at the edge of the Acatenango Volcano. I’ve even experimented with cold brew methods, perfect for hot summer days when a chilled coffee is a welcome refreshment.

Coffee, to me, is the epitome of luxury. It’s a daily indulgence, a connection to far-off lands and cultures, a testament to human ingenuity and the relentless pursuit of perfection. It’s the one luxury I can’t live without, a ritual that grounds me, inspires me, and fuels my every endeavor. Without it, the world would be a little less vibrant, a little less magical. And that, I simply cannot accept.

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