People keep blogs so that they can confess the details of their lives to strangers, right? Well, here’s my confession: I don’t know much about wine.

White is cold and red isn’t. Most pinots beat most merlots. California is better than France is better than New Zealand is better than California (Wait, I forgot South Africa). Grapes and all that.

Make no mistake, there’s wine I like and wine I don’t like, and I definitely wouldn’t categorize myself as “not a wine person” — but at a restaurant I always try to find someone better-qualified to order wine.

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If you find yourself in Toronto on a bright Monday morning in startlingly-early spring, you are likely to want coffee.

If you want coffee, you are obviously going to want good coffee.

If you want good coffee, you’re going to want someplace hip. I know, it’s not fair, but you and I both know that any random hole-in-the-wall with schizophrenic music is going to have way better coffee than Dunkin Donuts Tim Horton’s. And you didn’t really travel this far to go to Starbucks, did you?

So go ahead and try the place on the side street where the surly, bearded, flamboyantly gay barista actually asks of your non-coffee-drinking friend: “Is he actually going to sit there and not drink anything?” The espresso base will be outstanding and the pour will be more artful than any you’ll find in any business district in stodgy old America (oh look, a rosetta!). You’ll probably interrupt your thought experiment on what, exactly, that guy’s problem is to leave him a tip, and your friends will do the same while pondering where the sugar got hidden. Because face it: you got what you wanted, which was a good coffee, and the rest is just details.

There are probably two dozen coffee shops that fit that description in Toronto (or, really, any city worth a damn), but, for us, Bulldog Coffee did the job perfectly.

The authors of (aq) are on vacation right now! We are systematically (read: randomly) sampling fine beverages from the northeastern states & provinces of the continent of North America. When we get back; cappuccino, wine, & beer, AKA, everything you need to make a vacation awesome. (besides friends).

Let’s face it. Wine is an acquired taste. Unless of course you’re fairly Mediterranean in origin, in which case I might even argue, it’s still an acquired taste, you just acquired it at an age that you don’t have any memories of. It’s hard to remember, after discovering wine, how much you disliked it before, and so, when a non-wino stayed with me over the summer, I was continually surprised by what she did and did not like. I did my best to test out new wines in hopes that we might find a collection of easy-going wines that could be shared over dinner… and so here’s a primer, if you ever have to introduce a non-drinking friend to wine.

1. Mixing with fruit juice is a start. Sangria, as we all know, is the nectar of the gods. A shiraz/merlot mixed with some pomegranate juice is half the reason why I started drinking wine. Bellinis (white peach puree & prosecco) & mimosas (orange juice & champagne) are always well-liked. However, none of this being actual real wine, I find that it doesn’t prepare a person for liking the taste of just wine by itself. If anything, it sometimes causes a bit of a mental sour/bitter shock when the new wine drinker tries wine alone.
2. Thirst-quenching, boring, easy wines, without all the complexity that you find interesting, tend to be good. One that everyone’s liked so far is vinho verde, literally “green wine” in Portuguese. While not exactly “sparkling”, its got just the slightest hint of a carbonated kick. Goes down easy, and incredibly cheap to boot. I think Trader Joe’s has a $4 version that’s pretty decent.
3. Sweet wines work well. Sweet German reislings, especially cheaper table wines ones like Kabinett, worked wonderfully.It’s a hard balance, though, of finding one that’s just sweet enough without being an overpowering dessert-type wine. In this regard, I’ve had more like finding friendlier wines in the cheap category, rather than the riper category of German wines, or, spätleses (p.s. Germany, can ya pleeease do something about your wine classification system? something a little more understandable for us mere Earthlings?).
4. However, low alcohol content is more important than sweetness. Or at the very least, the scent of a low alcohol content wine. I had a flash of brilliance one day; I should give my friend some port! Port is sweet! Port is delicious! She’ll love port! Well, let’s just say that experiment failed horribly, despite a lovely Stilton blue cheese accompaniment. Apparently port reeks of pure ethanol, and made it completely unpalatable. So I guess the fortified dessert wines are out. In retrospect though, I should have tried other dessert wines that are less hardcore than port, such as a nice cream sherry, or a Sauternes. Supposedly everyone likes ice wine (but props to you if you can afford it).
5. Of course, we all know that people generally start with white wines before discovering they enjoy reds too. I’ve had good luck with white zinfandels and some white wine blends. Chardonnays tended to be hit-and-miss, while sauvignon blanc didn’t seem to work well at all. Roses tended to be very accessible. For the first red wines, try fruit-filled table wines, such as a Portuguese tinto, or perhaps an easy pinot noir. Try to stay away from darker, fuller red wines (that first taste can be put off a first-time reds drinker for years), especially cabernets, shirazes, or gawd forbid, something like a Côte du Rhône.
6. Despite what happens, keep on trying! Mustn’t let anyone, much less a good friend, miss out on the wonderful and delicious world that is wine.

If I’m inside, seated, and paying more than $3 for a beer, you had better not serve it to me in a plastic cup. You’re running a restaurant, not a frat party or a music festival. Have some self respect.

Since this is a blog about liquids (as opposed to a blog about expensive food or incredibly crappy service) I’ll call that a good enough reason for me to never go back to Tommy Doyle’s at Kendall Square ever again. Ever. And you shouldn’t either.

[Seriously, boys and girls: if you’re at Kendall Square (which you shouldn’t be without a good reason, by the way — that place is a wasteland), just go to Emma’s if you’re patient or the CBC if you’re not. Emma’s has excellent food and a good selection of beer and wine from two continents, and the CBC is a craft brewery.]

I had rooibos tea (pronounced roy-boss, or if you’re me, roo-bose) first during my grad school interviews (now that I think about it, that was a major turning point in my tea drinking habits…). Not actually from the tea plant, but instead the African red bush plant, grown in one small location in South Africa, this is considered an herbal tea.

The flavour is strikingly like a nuttier and lighter hybrid of black & white tea, but still yet unplaceably different. I’ve always had it in tea bag form, and my favorite brand of that is Twinings African Rooibos Red Tea (in fact, I’ve generally enjoyed everything from their Origins line, well, minus the Lapsang Souchong, but that’s really not their fault). I went through a half year phase where I had a cup of rooibos every night before bed, and knew I needed to run to the Upper West Side to stock up on tea whenever I got to my last box of rooibos.

So, of course, as part of my first order of loose-leaf teas from Adagio, I had to get a box of the rooibos and see how it compares. I tried it last, after I had tried the various green & black teas, nearly all of which had astounded me with their quality & taste. The rooibos? Not so impressed…

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Like Harvard Square, Inman Square is a cool neighborhood. Unlike Harvard Square, Inman is actually cool in the college-town sense; it’s got a bunch of awesome little cafés, pubs, and shops. (It’s also a bit of a trek from the T, but that’s just Cambridge for you.)

I’ve been a few times to this really cool little pub at Inman called The Druid that has excellent music and some pretty solid selections. On Wednesday night some classmates concocted the brilliant idea of going thut we all needed to unwind.

But then it turned out that The Druid has trivia on Wednesday, and it was way too full. So we went down the street to Bukowski’s Tavern.

I’d never been to Bukowski’s before. The place is going for a bit of a “neighborhood” vibe — food seems to be an important part of the experience, and they serve it until 1 even on weeknights, and it’s good big windows for those of you who want to be reminded that there’s such a place as “outside” when you’re hanging out. It’s got a big open space (for better or worse).

Now, I’ll interrupt myself and give away the punch-line: the place has three stars on Yelp. I tend to hold out for more. For those of you too lazy to click the link (and I don’t blame you), I can summarize: some people don’t like the food, lots of people don’t like the waiters, it’s sometimes way too loud, and it’s always expensive.

So, okay. I was there on a Wednesday - it was neither loud nor crowded, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t when normal people are there. I didn’t have any food; some of the people I was with got some artichoke dip: one said it was good and one said it tasted like it was from Trader Joe’s (which I think means that it’s good but not worth $6.50). The waitstaff were waitstaff; I told them what I wanted and they brought it. When we first got there I ordered from the bar, which I would have preferred to keep doing (it makes the accounting a lot simpler when you’re in a group). Whatever.

While they have PBR on tap for $3, Bukowski’s does have some phenomenally expensive beer. I blew something like $25 on three excellent beers, a Dogfish Raison d’Etre, a truly wonderful Unibroue Trois Pistoles, and… hmm… I don’t remember what the third one was. At least I remember being satisfied at the time.

There are beers on the menu that are $45, which is pretty much permanently out of my range. Next time I’m there, I’ll probably shell out for the Chimay Bleue — I almost did last time, but I decided I was a little too drunk to appreciate a $15 bottle of beer.

Bukowski’s not the Sunset — it’s got less than half the beers, most of the stuff on tap is pretty standard, and for some reason I’m feeling like it’s more expensive (I’ve got a bad enough money sense even when I’m sober that I have no idea if that’s actually true). On the other hand, it is in Cambridge and its selection is, in its own right, nothing to sneeze at. I don’t know if I’ll be back on a Friday or a Saturday, but sooner or later I’ll be back. It will be expensive and glorious.

Think Coffee
248 Mercer St @ 3rd St. (map)
New York, NY 10012
(212) 228-6226

Gtalk last night
Y: do we have our date tomorrow?
Y: i read reviews for think coffee
Y: apparently, you have to go early so you can go and “pretend to work”
Y: i challenge you to a 7:30 date
Me: …
Me: you’re trying to kill me

And this is how I dragged my ass out of bed at 6:30AM and drank the best cappuccino I’ve ever had. Read the rest of this entry »

Last Friday, I re-entered the high heeled shark-infested waters known as the New York dating scene… to the great delight of more geriatric friends who love to live vicariously through me. The gent & I were meeting up at Union Square and winging it from there, and being a 21st century woman and all, I figured I should contribute some ideas for dinner & a bar afterwards. A New Yorker friend recommended a hidden bar, Angel Share, haphazardly located in the middle of a busy Japanese restaurant.First of all, let me say… this is not a bar for first dates. Or second dates even. Unless you’re 100% sure you’re madly in love with this guy/gal. This bar has romantic down to an art form, to the point where you’re going to want to take your pants off, regardless of how unattractive, uninteresting and repulsive your date might be. It’s insta-hook-up in bar form.

Three restaurants, 1 bartender with a chip on her shoulder, 1 run-in with a friend, and a flight of stairs later, we found ourselves inside a sushi place, standing outside a wooden door that could’ve easily passed for the entryway to a storage cabinet

“Are you sure it’s here?” my date asked. “I’ve been to this restaurant a couple times and never noticed a bar.”
“No no,” I insisted. “My friend said it was completely unmarked.”
I opened the door…

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I just got out of a terrible talk. The talk was good. Well, maybe at least — I wouldn’t really know. I fell asleep. Partly that’s a quirk of my metabolism, partly that’s because it was over my head, and partly because someone put the wrong coffee in the carafe.

The rules are simple:

1. Go ahead and drink decaf. Don’t let anybody give you crap for it. You’re an adult and, like all adult decisions, only you are qualified to decide.
2. Don’t tell me it tastes the same. It doesn’t.
3. Don’t serve me decaf without warning me. Yes, I do drink the stuff from time to time (like when I’m cold and want something warm, but rule #2 isn’t idle talk. If you do try to pass decaf off as the real thing, I might write snarky things in my blog about the etiquette of serving decaf. You don’t want that.

I would conjecture that people who drink decaf interchangeably with regular coffee are either used to tasting cream and sugar, and really can’t tell the difference, or are trying to nurse themselves out of a massive caffeine dependency, and can tell the difference but need to lie to themselves about it.

The latter group I can respect somewhat; there were a few times in college when I really just needed to take a coffee hiatus. I’ll admit that — to me — decaffeinated coffee is like non-alcoholic wine: it just doesn’t taste right. I’d rather drink water. (Speaking of which, if you’ve ever hypothetically tried to get female friends drunk on non-alcoholic wine as a psychology experiment, you know that it won’t work — they’ll notice straightaway.)

My opinions on the cream-and-sugar crowd are well-documented. It doesn’t make you a bad person, any more than drinking PBR makes you a bad person, but taking your coffee that way indicates that you have a different set of goals for your coffee experience than I do. It’s cool; I’m a beverage pluralist (more or less), just stay the heck away from my coffee.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to go get some real coffee into my system so that I can keep my eyes open.