The Thin Side of Fries

Rosemary Garlic French Fries

I can't recall how many people have told me over the years that Brewer's Art has "the best" French fries in Baltimore. They're to die for, or so I've been told. But for whatever reason, I just never find my way down there to try the fries myself. Until today.

With the spirit of the Best of Baltimore in the air and Brewer's Art once again winning the Best French Fries category, I made a point of it to stop there on the way home after the Mid-Atlantic Restaurant Expo at the convention center. I made a deal with myself that if I could easily find a parking spot on Charles Street (in the middle of rush hour), I would stop.

There was an open spot a half-block away and I had to make good on my promise.

I squeezed myself onto the end of the bar and since they make their own beer, I decided to try one - their Proletary Ale, a dark musty beer that was pretty good. I'm not really a beer connoisseur so you'll have to check it out and decide for yourself. It was similar to Murphy's Stout and lacked the creaminess of a Guinness.

The menu has a good selection of stuff and I'm tempted by the steak frites. Described as a grilled coulotte steak with fries, I have no idea what a "Coulotte Steak" is so I asked the friendly bartender. She said it was the end cut of a strip steak and very lean. For some reason, in my mind "lean," "steak" and "tasty" do not usually go together. I decided to go with a simple order of the Rosemary Garlic Fries and a Crab and Corn Salad.

Crab and Corn Salad

The salad was nice. Simple. Plain. Squeezed into a mold and topped with rocket greens. Not bad. Not much corn so the flavor was lost but there was ample crab but I think it needed something to make it pop. Salt and some lemon juice might be nice.

After a few moments the fries that everyone raves about arrived. They give you a good amount. Really thin fries that are blanched and then finish fried with rosemary, garlic and salt, served with a side of mayonnaise. Time for the big moment.

To be honest, I'm not a fan. First off, I really don't have an appreciation for really thin french fries. Thinner than McDonald's, these are almost the same thinness as those Durkee french fries you buy at the grocery store in the can - and nearly the same in texture and oil content. The rosemary is nice and I think there's garlic in there somewhere but fries of this size just don't hold up. They're too thin to hold temperature for very long and quickly, my fries had gotten cold. Not to mention that I found my fries to be a bit on the greasy/oily side.

I think part of the problem is that the thinness of the fries allows it to cook through too quickly, creating fries that are more crisp and crunch rather than a balance between the crisp exterior and the steamed creamy potato on the inside. These fries really were closer to Durkee than anything else. And I'm just not a fan of mayonnaise with my fries. It really does nothing for them - just adds more fat.

Perhaps I also just don't have an appreciation for beer. I'll drink it from time to time but I don't love it. A number of people have said that these fries are the perfect accompaniment to beer and I have to disagree. There's so much oil and fat going on that you need something acidic to cut through it all and cleanse the palate. And the only thing that will suffice is Coke. Let Coca-Cola's phosphoric acid cut right through all that oiliness.

For the record, I prefer a thicker cut of fries a la Brasserie Les Halles in Washington DC. They've got the recipe down. I want that balance of crisp exterior and soft, creamy interior. Add some salt and what else do you need? Nothing. It's just beautiful, potato goodness.

I wish more places would perfect the basics before adding all sorts of whims of flight and fancy.


Brewer's Art
1106 North Charles Street
Baltimore, MD 21201
410-547-6925
www.thebrewersart.com

The Obama Watch

This mornings' CNN.com Front Page.

Democrats still have a serious problem on their hands.

A day closer to the election is dawning and still no sign of Obama in the media. This morning's CNN.com Front Page mentions either McCain or Palin in at least five separate pieces but not a word on Obama.

We're looking for coverage on Obama, but we're not seeing any...

Best Cup of Coffee 2008

The City Paper's Best of Baltimore Dining Art by Mel Guapo.

It's not too far past midnight and I'm sitting here in a mixture of feeling stoked and shocked - all at the same time.

The Spro has won the City Paper's Best of Baltimore 2008 "Best Cup of Coffee."

Wow.

Holy Shit.

Part of me wants to kneel down and Thank the Lord. Part of me wants to cry. Part of me wants to jump up and down. Part of me wants to streak naked down the streets of Towson. I'm struck with a sense of accomplishment. After all, it's been nearly ten years since we started Jay's Shave Ice in a little shack in Timonium producing the highest quality product that we possibly could - and consistently being ignored by our local press. I'll admit, it was a bitter pill to swallow every year that the Best of... came out and we were never listed.

And it was just a few weeks ago that we were profiled in Baltimore Magazine, not to mention the book Coffee Drinks being released and a mention in one of the Mexico City dailies, it's been a media busy few weeks for us at The Spro.

It's like it's all coming at once.

But none of this is possible without a great team backing you and making it all happen. Not to mention a group of people whose work and toil were built upon, culminating in today's recognition. People like Al and Polly and our parents, who helped us get started oh so long ago. A legion of hard-working staffers at Jay's Shave Ice - many of whom we are still friends with today. Mentors like John Sanders and the crew at Hines. Coffee friends like Nick Cho, Daryn Berlin and Jon Lewis, who have inspired and helped us along the way. And, of course, our very hard-working barista team at The Spro: Arianna, Glenn, Beta, Ruth, Katie, Cristy, Ana and Allie. Not to mention Jennifer Haire and the wonderful people at the Baltimore County Public Library who've welcomed us into their home.

Hard to believe, but surprisingly incredibly satisfying.

I guess I'll be going to the Best of Baltimore Party on Thursday night...

Obama Who?

Obama surfs Sandy Beach. Honolulu Star-Bulletin


Not too long ago, Barack Obama was amongst the glitterati of the election season. Trim, fit and the man for change, he was the guy who was running full-bore towards the White House. He thundered in front of 85,000 people during the Democratic National Convention in Denver. He even took the time to visit his grandmother and body surf at Sandy Beach in Hawaii.

But today, Obama is looking rather vulnerable. He's looking quite petty. In fact, we're looking in the media for him and we can barely find him at all.

It's been known for months now that John McCain would be the Republican candidate for president. Sure, he's a veteran, but he's old, he's slightly grumpy and he's part of the Washington establishment (like Hillary) that has been grinding its' citizens into pulpy bits for the past twenty-five years. The reality is that no one has really paid him much attention other than the most die-hard and grizzly of republicans.

And while the democrats have been handily winning the media frenzy with Battle of the Century between Obama and "it's my presidency by virtue of monarchy" Hillary Clinton, the republicans have been lost in the frenzy. That is, until they took out their bat (or is it golf club?) and smashed the public and the media in the head with Sarah Palin.

In one clean stroke, the republicans tore away the spotlight from Obama and democrats nationwide are more pissed than ever.

Like a puma, those crafty republicans let Obama and Company take the spotlight. Afterall, it's mid-July, election is too far away. Now that we've reached September and the final sprint to the presidency, they've come out of the bushes with guns ablaze. Democrats are pissed.

They really need to be pissed at themselves and their leadership.


Sarah Palin on the election trail to governor. Fox News.

Palin's got everything that Hillary doesn't. Palin actually grew up in the state where she was elected mayor and then governor. She's worked to eliminate corruption. She lowered her own salary by $4,000. She sold the governor's private jet instead of using it. Her expenses as governor were 80% less than her predecessor.

Then, there's the other side: she's pro-life, pro gun, pro religion and pro everything that Democrats hate. She fired those in public office who didn't support her. She got sued for it, but let's be honest - who wants to work with people who would work against you? Think about your own workplace and how much nicer it would be if you could get rid of all the asshats who conspire against you on a daily basis. Nice, isn't it?

TrooperGate chronicles a story about how Palin was trying to get her ex-brother-in-law fired from the Alaska state police. Considering that her sister was getting divorced from him and they were in a bitter custody and divorce battle, who can blame her? If you had that power to influence and screw around with that asshole who fucked over your sister, wouldn't you do the same?

The problem for Obama is that he's barking up the wrong tree. He tells us that McCain is old. Does he not think we watch tv or view images? He tells us that McCain doesn't know how to use the Internet. Neither does my father but do I hate him for it? If anything, I'm thankful that he's not sitting at the computer forwarding me spam messages that his friends sent him.

Once Palin emerged, Obama goes on the offensive about her lack of experience. Really? This kind of attack from the guy 99th on the list of Senate Seniority? Wasn't there a promise for change somewhere? What's with the sudden "change" to old school tactics? Especially when he's challenging a governor making daily decisions while he's out campaigning across America instead of attending to business in session. There's a disconnect here.

And what people are looking for is a connection. With so much going on in the world, can a candidate truly relate to the common person? Hillary couldn't. McCain is still too far removed. Obama once seemed like the man.

Democrats cry about Palin's lack of knowledge on the "Bush Doctrine." Just what is this doctrine anyway? Can anyone tell me what it is? Other than oil and screwing the people, that is.

For all of her faults, Palin comes across as a regular person. Someone who's worked her way up. Her "First Dude" husband works in the field. She's got kids. One is pregnant. At a time when many people would say "get an abortion", she's sticking to her pro-life position. Even though it means her daughter has to carry the child.

Whatever the case, it's September and this is it. The final run for the presidency. Bush will be out in 120 days. Who will be the next president of the United States? For a long time, Obama looked to be the de facto choice of America. Now that Palin's in the running, he's got a lot of work to maintain his momentum.

And democrats whining about Palin won't help Obama.

Besides, she's a veritable hottie riding in on a dog sled with those Tina Fey glasses...

The Tempting of The Face

Facebook.

It's everywhere. Everyone is doing it. And, happily, they don't allow you to put up silly wallpapers and graphics like MySpace.

Some people are addicted. I'm just going along for the ride and finding all sorts of friends old and new along the way. Originally, I didn't even want to do the Facebook thing. I already had pages on MySpace, Friendster and LinkedIn - wasn't that enough? But a good friend forced me to join and here I am updating the "Jay is..." every few days and chatting with old friends in my spare time.

Then, the unexpected happened. I found someone I hadn't spoken to in eighteen years. I don't know what possessed me to punch her name in, but I did, and there she was. Maybe I should say "hello." Maybe I shouldn't. I didn't act very kind the last time. It wasn't my finest moment. Back then I was young, arrogant and egotistical (I'm much mellower now, I promise). I thought the world was mine and I could do no wrong. In short, I fucked it all up. And fucked it up good.

When faced with decisions of a perilous nature, I consult with friends of the feminine kind. They're unanimously supportive about going for it. "How bad could it have been?" Lupe asked me. Pretty bad, I think. I spoke some pretty harsh words that I immediately regretted but was too absorbed in ego to admit that I was wrong. Dumb.

I don't know what I will do. I haven't decided. Maybe it's too late. Ah, what's the worse that could happen?

Damn you, Facebook. Damn you to Hell!!!!

Everybody Wants To Be In A Book...

I hope you won't mind if I indulge myself a little.

Back from Mexico City, I'm once again behind the bar at The Spro for a couple of weeks. Back to find a nice bag of Ethiopian Yirgacheffe from Hines Coffee in the queue with it's heavy blueberry character calling my name, begging me to brew a cup or four. I can't resist.

And yes, you're eyes are not deceiving you - there is some amount of half and half cream in that cup (from Trickling Springs, no less) and a half teaspoon of sugar (cane, pure).

As I'm preparing my coffee, in comes the UPS guy with a small package from Ten Speed Press in tow. Hmm, I don't remember ordering any books before my trip to Mexico. Then it hits me: this must be an advance copy of the book I shared a recipe with. I tear into the package with reckless abandon.

I once wrote somewhere on the Internet: "Everybody wants to be in a book. Until they're actually written about. And it's true. It's fun being the subject of an article or included in a book. But you never know what they're going to write about you until it's too late. God forbid they might write an accurate portrayal of you for the world to see - and you're an asshole.

That would be bad.



Luckily, my write up in Michael Turback's Coffee Drinks isn't that bad. It reads:

"I like the ideas of using memories to trigger positive responses," explains Jay. His signature drink, in a mad-scientist-tinkering-in-his-lab way, invokes peanut butter and jelly sandwiches of our youth. A rediscovery of the American childhood experience is magically captured for the adult palate in a deconstructed formula, presented in three acts: a shot of espresso stirred with hazelnut butter and a side of grape gelee, all washed down with cold, frothed milk."

Not too bad. Although one of my staff facetiously remarked that hazelnut butter is something that "everyone" has at home.

Every victory has to have detractors.

So please run out to your local bookstore and buy a copy of "Coffee Drinks." It's a great book filled with recipes from many of the baristas I respect. Baristas like Chris Deferio, Lem Butler, Steve Fritzen, Dismas Smith and the incomparable Jon Lewis. Ask for it. Demand it. Stand in line for it. It's only fifteen bucks (ten at Amazon.com).

Just a note: we don't make any money off the sale of the book. I'd just like to see the word of coffee spread throughout the kingdom.


Coffee Drinks
by Michael Turback

photography by Leo Gong
2008 Ten Speed Press
ISBN-10: 1580089267
ISBN-13: 978-1580089265
Hardcover, 104 pages

Mexico City: Biko

Reg, Arturo and Cleofas offer a toast.

For our final meal together in Mexico City, Antonio, Arturo and Cleofas treated us to the cucina vangardia of Restaurant Biko in Polanco where we had the seven course menu de degustacion. By now, I'm starting to feel like an old hat with multi-course tasting menus, but it's always interesting, educational and delicious to sample the cuisines of different chefs.

Offering a Basque-inspired menu, chefs Bruno Oteiza and Mikel Alonso have created an intimate world to present their take on cuisine. Wedged between the fanciness that is Presidente Masaryk Avenue in the fashionable and ever-so-expensive neighborhood of Polanco, Biko announces that it's set apart with it's private portico in flat black offering recipes written on the walls in chalk. A private elevator whisks you above the riff raff satisfied with Abercrombie and to the upper levels where only Chanel will suffice.


Antonio, Sonja and Sarah.

Step out of the elevator and the receptionist is waiting to whisk us into their private wine cellar dining room.

The wine cellar is a dark and gorgeous place. Black walls with illuminated wood and glass wine bottle storage makes for a lush cocoon to insulate you and your guests from the vagaries of the Chanel laden crowd. It's dark, moody and feels just like Admiral Cain's quarters on Pegasus in the television series Battlestar Galactica. If you've seen that show then you'll know exactly what I'm talking about.

A large wooden table dominates the room with inlaid black place settings and stainless hose clamps performing as napkin holders. It's unique and fun, and instantly reminds me of Wylie Dufresne's WD-50 in New York City.

On the other side of the restaurant is the main dining room clad in slatted walls and bathed in white. It's a room for seeing and to be seen. It's a place for the hip and upcoming while the private dining room is for those who do not wish to announce their desire to be seen. In other words, it's my kind of place.

I've decided not to go into too much detail about the food and let the images speak for themselves. The food was good. For my money, I thought the wrapped scallops was just rockin'. Their sweetness was stunning and their texture was perfect.

The stuffed chile was also another hit, though I didn't think the foie gras was very pronounced. The escolar was absolutely delicious and appeared a couple of times during the evening. The americano was to be expected: terrible - but at least there was a lot of sugar around.

The medallions of Manila mangos were beautiful and the accompanying tonic foam rocked my world - I'm working on recreating it. And finally, of the Alegrias, the chocolate covered cereals and sheet of white chocolate were my favorites.

Have a look and I'll let you decide for yourself.


Picas de Aperetivo - Beet Root Soup


Picas de Aperetivo - Spoon of ceviche and mushrooms with fried plantain.


Callo de Hacha y Camaron con Recaudo y Ensalada


The Ensalada


Pimientos Rellenos de Pato y Queso de Foie.


Escolar con Gelatina de Pisto y Amaranto


Cordoniz Empalomada


A "side" of "lasagna" for Cordoniz Empalomada


Azucars


An as expected Americano.


Tocinillos de Mango con Crema Limon y Mango


Alegrias


Alegrias - dark chocolate truffle, white chocolate sheet, cereals in chocolate and sweet toasts.



Biko
407 Presidente Masaryk
Polanco
Mexico City
11550
+52 55 5285 2064

Mexico City: Mercado Lazaro Cardenas

The Mercado

El Mercado Lazaro Cardenas.

Also known in this blog as: Mercado Del Valle.

Actually, I don't think anyone I met in Mexico City called it anything other than the mercado in Del Valle - at least not to this gringo. Of course, I'm American - I don't need to know its' proper name. It is whatever I think it is. Just like back in the States:

"Hey, you must be Mexican."

"No, I'm from Nepal."

"Whatever. You look Mexican to me."

And around it goes as we foster brotherly love and friendship around the world.

Thought that I would share the images of our visit last Saturday to the market in Del Valle. While it was a Saturday and not as busy as I thought it should be for a Saturday morning, we did find some interesting foodstuffs to consider. Oh, how I wish I had a kitchen to work out of and a couple more weeks in Mexico City. So many things to sample and try. Enjoy.



Jugos


Pig parts. Yum.


Isn't "Fresh Fish" an oxymoron in Mexico City?


Beef Tripe aka "wet dog"


Corazon de Beouf


Chiles


Y Muchos Chiles


Looks like smoked yams to me.


Pinatas


Vegetables Galore


Butchers preparing American commercial pork. I weep for Mexico.


Flor de Calabasa


Piloncillo and other sugars.


Freshly milled Mole Rojo and Mole Negro


So many varieties of dried beans.


Steaming hot Menudo ready for the eating.

Mexico City: Cafe Passmar

Two time Mexican Barista Champion Salvador offers a cappuccino.

After an excruciatingly long day at Teotihuacan, I just wanted to rest up on my last morning in Mexico City. But when I returned to my room, a message was waiting for me: "Salvador Benitez will be here at 8am to pick you up and take you to his cafe." Cool, after all this time, I was finally going to see his place. But I still needed to get up early and pack, and with a 7am wake up call on the horizon, I went to bed.

The problem was that I really couldn't sleep. I don't know why. Anxiety? I tried. I struggled. Finally, I fell asleep but it was fitful and full of nightmares. Nightmares of me having to get up early, go to Salvador's Cafe and then spend the morning judging drinks but be finished in time to get to the airport. Is this what barista competition judges dream about? It was terrible.

Then, for whatever reason, my dreams shifted gears and I was with this beautiful woman at some bar and she was getting a bit cuddly with me. Sarah Allen (editor of Barista Magazine) was across the bar watching and I remember thinking in my dream: Is she going to write about this in the magazine? At first, she gave me that shy, stolen kiss - a quick peck on the lips to let me know that there was more to this than just friendship. Oh, la la! Now things are getting interesting. It was time to ramp it up a bit - pull her closer and forget that Sarah was watching and probably taking notes. Time to get my groove on.

That's exactly when the phone rang for my wake up call. Son of a Bitch.


The girls work the machine.

Just when you're about to pull back the curtain and reveal the Wizard, that's when it all falls apart. Life Sucks.

With the air of disappointment surrounding me, I started to pack. Luckily, I've learned to pack light. What I haven't learned is how to acquire light. Seems that wherever I go, I end up with much more than I left with. With that in mind, I usually bring along a collapsable duffle bag that can be used in a jiffy for more purchases. It's saved my butt more than once. And since I'm currently enjoying Star Alliance Gold status, I don't have to worry about excess weight or check-in baggage fees.

Packed up, I headed downstairs to find Reg Barber waiting for Moises to take him out for a day in Pachuca. Reg is here for a couple more days and I'm a bit envious - I need more time to explore the city. What I've learned after two trips here is that one week just isn't enough. There are still so many places here that I want to see and check out. The Mercado de San Juan is big on my list, not to mention the real need to find some nice ollas, cazuelas, molcajetes or other interesting cooking apparatus - maybe even a Mariachi uniform and guitar.

But that's going to mean more ingenius ways of packing and larger pieces of luggage. Next time, I guess.


Roasting coffee.

Brent shows up and we're waiting for our ride to Del Valle. It's a nice morning in Mexico City and a shame that it's my last. Soon after, Salvador shows up in a taxi and we're off.

It's a quick and short cab ride to the mercado, which is only a kilometer away. We're riding in those ubiquitous white and green taxis you see all over the city but, as a tourist, are told never to ride in because of the potential for robbery. Our taxi is a simple affair: a compact car with four seats and we fit comfortably.

We've been riding in the tourist taxis all week and I find it interesting to see the difference - especially in fare. Our cab ride costs eleven pesos. The tourist taxi will easily cost twice that. Of course, the tourist taxis usually have drivers that speak a modicum of English, the cars are nicer and the chances that a gringo like myself will get robbed are infinitely smaller. So, while the lure of low fares is strong, the desire not to be robbed is greater.

That's not to say that all the green taxi drivers are robbers, but they say you never know...

Happily, this is Salvador's city and he's in control. We're dropped off at the market and head inside. It's before 9am and the market is surprisingly quiet. Many of the vendors are still closed and others are in some state of opening. The market opens at 7am and I find it odd that it's not bustling yet.


Coming out of the roaster.

Cafe Passmar is located in the center of the market. As far as market vendors goes, it's pretty huge - taking up at least six stalls. Three are dedicated to seating, two are for the kitchen and one is for the coffee making.

Over the years, I've seen some small work spaces for baristas, but this has got to be one of the smallest. There's a front counter with a two group La Marzocco GB5EE espresso machine, one grinder, a knockbox and two coffee bean display cases stacked on top of the other. The back counter has a blender and assorted syrups, cups and a telephone. To the left is a small sink used for rinsing. To enter the workarea, there's a small crawlspace between the end of the counter and under the stacked coffee displays - just crawl through. It's tight and you have to contort yourself a bit to get through.

Once inside, two people can work comfortably. Three would be tight and four would be an orgy. Brent and I stand back there with Salvador and it's exciting. Actually, I always get a tinge of excitement anytime that I'm invited to step behind the line. Workspaces are typically cramped and personal and an invitation to step into the personal workspace is an honor - especially since you know you're in the way.


Our coffeee

In this space, you can only be in the way for so long before you're necessarily pressed into service. Seemingly out of nowhere, a line forms and there are too many of us in here for Salvador's working baristas, Fernanda and Biri, to get back in and I'm pressed into service.

Stepping behind someone else's espresso machine and being expected to perform is always nerve-wracking. Whatever reputation I have in the business, this isn't my shop. Different coffee, different grind, different dose, different styles - and I'm approaching it cold. As most baristas will attest, grind is of utmost importance, as is dose - and I'm a slightly coarse and updose kind of barista. Worst part is: I don't know what kind of technique they employ here and I don't want to adjust the grind because the girls will be back here soon and it might disrupt their flow.

I have no choice: I must adapt to their style and must adapt immediately.

Thinking back to the CMB, I remember that both Aleli and Alvaro did short doses with taps and take the chance that this is how they must do it at Passmar as well. Compared to my personal style, I do short doses and work the grinds into the portafiter. Lock it into the grouphead and we're off. It's a few tense moments while the water pressure ramps up but when the espresso starts to flow it looks pretty good. I'm slightly relieved.


Pan Dulces

Of course, the girls have been watching to see what this gringo barista from the United States can do. They're watching my technique and it's instantly nerve-wracking. Now is not the time to screw up. If I screw the pooch, then I'm just some wanna-be hack poseur. Merde.

Well, can't dwell on that now, Salvador needs more shots for his customers who are ordering a barrage of drinks: chais, cappuccinos and who knows what else. I'm just making shots and that's what I'm concentrating on, but the equipment is conspiring against me. The grinder is insanely slow compared to my Compak K10. As it grinds, I'm waiting, and waiting, and waiting. Good Lord, where's a towel to wipe the portafilter basket dry? Ah, there's some napkins I can use.

Working in someone else's space is always tough because you don't know the flow yet. Making drinks is a staccato because of your unfamiliarity with the space and I'm swimming. Hard. Decisions on where to rinse the portafilter become difficult. I want to use the hot water tap to rinse, but that gets in the way of Salvador's steaming of the milk. The sink to my left is much easier but the cold water would drop the temperature dramatically. Crap.


Making our enchiladas in the Passmar kitchen.

In the end, we manage to pull through most of the rush and the girls take our place. I'm relieved.

But we're not done yet. Up a narrow flight of stairs by the kitchen, we emerge on top of the stalls to find ourselves in Passmar's roasting operation. Up here they've got a converted corn roaster that can handle five kilos of coffee at a time, roasting the beans in eleven minutes.

For coffee people, there's always something special about seeing a roaster. There's a kinship to the coffee and the method. Passmar uses a fluid bed (or air) roasting system that's been specially engineered to reuse the generated heat for greater efficiency. What this means is that the roaster does not need to preheat, just turn it on and go. And go it does. As the fans spool up, it sounds like a jet engine whirring. The coffee part of me is thrilled, the aviation guy in me is thrilled. I wish I had a tape recorder.

Salvador loads up the roaster with coffee from Oaxaca and we're off.


Enchiladas de Mole

The one thing you notice about the difference between air roasting and the traditional drum roasting is that air seems much more simple and easy. Watch a drum roaster and he's usually fiddling with some control to adjust this or ease that. With an air roaster you simply let it go and drop the coffee once you reach a certain temperature.

Once the coffee is ready, Salvador drops it into the cooling tray. An unmechanized cooling tray, meaning you turn a hand crack to roll the beans and cool them. It's odd and funny in a way but also very cool (as in hip, not temperature).

I'm having deja vu at Passmar because I know one of the baristas, Biri, but I can figure out how. Then it hits me - she was the barista I snapped a picture of last year when visiting Cafe Europa in Polanco. Turns out that Salvador's place is closer to school for her and why not work with the best? That's when I see a customer who also looks so familiar to me, but I can't place him. He introduces himself as George but it isn't until later that I remember: I snapped a picture of him at last years' CMB drinking one of Salvador's signature drinks. Weird to remember these faces one year later and then run into them.

Brent and I are feeling a little bit hungry and lose a our inhibitions when they mention how good the food is here. In no time, we're seated at a table being served pan dulces and enchiladas de mole. Oh, and how good the enchiladas were... Filled with chicken and smothered in mole negro. God help me. It's beautiful.


Brent holds up a bag of Passmar Oaxaca.

Unfortunately, it's 10am and Arturo calls to see where I am so that the driver can come pick me up and take me to the airport for my 1:30pm flight back to the United States. Sucks! We bid Fernanda and Biri goodbye and head back to the hotel to check out, collect my bags and go to the airport.

At the hotel, we find Reg still waiting for the boys to take him to Pachuca. He tells us that they called to say that they were running late and would come to get him at eleven. Considering that Pachuca is an hour away and traffic in Mexico City can be atrocious, I'm not surprised.

In short time, Rael arrives to take me to the airport. Salvador heads back to work in his uncle's green taxi, Brent is off to explore the city and Reg is still waiting for his ride to Pachuca. All of them will be going to Seattle this weekend for CoffeeFest.

I wasn't planning on going to Seattle but with their encouragement I think that maybe I'll have to check Kayak.com when I get home...


With Fernanda and Biri.



Cafe Passmar
Mercado Lazaro Cardenas
Adolfo Prieto s/n local
237 Entre Romero de Terreros
y Avenida Mexico Coyoacan
Col. Del Valle
5669-1994
cafepassmar.com