And Then There's Coffee ...

Insufferable coffee snobbery. It's a way of life.

Lemme back up a moment. You're only a coffee snob if you're a poser. Chances are, if you're gone out of your way to seek out and read a blog named "Yoga Coffee Outlook," you actually have some interest in coffee for it's own sake. So relax and enjoy. Let's make great coffee.

But the picture on the left isn't coffee: it's compost. Really good compost, actually: the garden is a great place to dump your grounds. That doesn't mean you'd want to actually drink the ground coffee that comes in a can or even one of those fancy vacuum-packed bags. You can't judge a bean that's already mulched, and most of the conveniently ground blends you'd pick up at the store are the cheapest blends their manufacturers think they can get away with selling.

Start with whole beans. The delicate oils which give coffee its flavor begin breaking down the instant you grind, so cut your losses and do it yourself. It's not hard. Blade grinders can be had for less than $20, and they do an okay job. If you really want consistency, though, you need a burr grinder just like the barrista at Starbucks. A reasonable consumer unit can be had at full retail for $80, and you'll be able to produce perfectly ground coffee every time you brew.

Bean selection is a topic all its own, and will depend completely on your personal tastes. If you're unfamiliar with what's out there, visit an online vendor like Peets and browse the descriptions of the various coffee families. Once you try a few, you'll develop favorites. I drink my coffee black and prefer dark, mellow roasts with chocolate notes. You might prefer a tangy African or medium-roasted Central American bean. And then there are blended coffees, which combine different types of beans to arrive at distinctive flavors.

You can order coffee online or find it close to home. Just keep in mind that the beans you see in big hoppers at the chain stores could have been sitting there for a long time. Stick to the popular beans, and you'll be likelier to get fresh stock. And you can find good bean coffee at the grocery store. Try a few, and you'll figure out which to buy and which to avoid.

Automatic drip coffee makers are instruments of torture designed to break the spirit of underpaid office workers. In this tractable condition, they are content to submit to abusive managers, skimpy vacation schedules, and the largess of corporate America for their health coverage. It's a far-reaching conspiracy.

Why would you extend this situation to your home? Strike a blow for labor and buy a french press right away. It will extract the very best from your beans and allows you to control the brewing process.

The unit on the right is actually a cheapie (and the photographer appears to have steeped the beans all of ten seconds before snapping his picture). Look for one with all-metal hardware, particularly the threaded sleeve which locks the brew screen into place. Plastic locknuts strip out too easily.

Add an electric kettle, a coffee scoop, and an airtight container to store the beans, and your kit is complete. Time to make something nice.

Coffee making is the Western equivalent of the Japanese tea ceremony. I enjoy the process almost as much as actually drinking the coffee. Start with clean equipment and a clear workspace. Use fresh water in your kettle: if you reuse the leftovers from your last boil, the coffee will taste flat.

Water at a rolling boil is too hot for brewing -- it will assault the fragrant oils. You're looking for about 180 degrees. Either switch off your kettle before it hits a full boil or let it sit a few minutes before pouring.

While the water is boiling, mill your beans. How much coffee to use is a matter of trial and error. My press is about the same size as the one in the illustration, and I generally use six rounded coffee scoops of beans for each batch. Dump the ground coffee into the bottom of the press, then clean your milling equipment. Left-behind coffee will deteriorate and sour the next brew.

When the water is ready, gently pour it into the coffee. Don't overfill your press. The lighter grounds and beautiful, delicious crema will immediately float to the top. It's best to stir these down for a few seconds to be sure all your coffee is part of the brew.

Take your leftover hot water and pour a bit into your cups to warm them. This will keep your coffee hotter once it's ready. A french press doesn't hold heat very well, so you might consider using a serving thermos if you're planning on more than one cup of coffee. Let the thermos warm with the cups.

Steeping time again depends on your personal taste and the type of coffee you're using. A good rule of thumb is about four minutes. If you over-steep the coffee, it will become bitter. I'm a tad ADD, so I have a cheap digital timer to remind me when the brew is done.

Now you're ready to press. The screen forces the coffee to the bottom of the press, essentially ending the brew. Put the top on and press slowly. Pressed coffee will be much fuller-bodied than anything out of a drip maker, and it will leave behind a light crema like you'd expect from espresso.

Clear your cups and pour. There will be some powdery coffee as you get to the bottom of your pour, and you should try to leave this in the press. Go slow: there's no hurry.

And now you're done. If you're going to put some of that artificial coffee flavoring and cream into your coffee, please don't tell me about it. But however you like your cup, you've started with good coffee. Now find a book or a friend, slow down, and enjoy.

Ain't that fine? Damn straight.

That's yoga and coffee down. It's outlook tomorrow.