Why are you wishing me a happy birthday?

I've not been at the computer all day today so I was surprised to see a couple of comments in my inbox from bloggers wishing me a happy birthday. I didn't recall ever writing about my birthday and yet the comments were clearly being directed from my blog. How strange...

And then I remembered how last night my wife was a little too interested in the signing in procedure!

Thanks anyway, everyone, for your birthday greetings. I hope you've all had a good day too.

(By the way, I'm not convinced that they are tights - more like a babygro that merely looks lacey.)

On a cold January morn, many years ago...

I was born in King's Hospital, London. Not with a coffee cup in hand (that wouldn't come along until seven years later) and my parents did't name me Cosmo (that came many years later).

Here's a picture of me as a baby. You'll notice that, even though I was a boy (still am, in fact) my mother dressed me in tights. Maybe it's an Ulster thing? Any insight, Ali?

So if you're having coffee today, have a piece of cake as well, because it's my birthday!

Ali IRL

Just back from a lovely evening with Ali and her husband Graham - tasty food, good conversation and a nicely presented latte at the end of the meal.

Ali has undertaken the challenge of meeting people from blogland in real life and (outside of her own family) I was the first to be visited. It was fun to meet a "stranger" that I only know from the internet. (But, hey kids, don't try this at home - they might not all be as nice as Ali).

As my wife and I drove home I realised that I should have thanked Ali for her blogging influence. I've become a bit irregular of late (get it? It's a pun on my blog address), but I'm going to have a go at getting back into writing a bit. However, the thing that motivated me in my early blogging days when I thought no one would read what I had to say was that Ali (then known as Chemical) showed up on my blog and from there drew in other readers to my site. So thanks, Ali!

And thanks again for coming down to Dublin. Enjoy the next part of your challenge in Huston!

Intelligentsia Coffee

I've been back from the States for a couple of weeks now, but just haven't managed to get around to blogging a bit more. However, amidst the silence, there has been one thought that has been running through my head this whole time: the cup of coffee I had at Intelligentsia.

I don't think it would be a stretch to say that the latte I had at this Chicago based coffeehouse was the best cup of coffee I have ever had. Now I'm no coffee connoisseur, but I do know the difference between bad, mediocre and good. This particular cup was excellent.

Why was it so good? I'm not sure. Like I said, I'm not a connoisseur. However, it was so smooth, a great micro-foam, wonderful aroma, a full taste and not a hint of bitterness. The last sip at the end of the cup was just as good as the first.

I'd heared about Intelligentsia some time ago on a podcast at Coffee Geek, but had forgotten about it. Then, while in America I came across it again on an AOL poll of the best coffee in the USA - it was ranked second. I was interested to see that they had three cafes in Chicago (and one in LA) especially as we were going to be spending a couple of days in the windy city. And then I discovered it was just five blocks from our hotel!!!

We were staying in Chicago for two nights which meant that, once the kids were in bed, one of us would explore on one night and the other the next. My research told me that Intelligentsia where open until 10pm. I took the first night and made my way from the corner of Diversey and Clark, up Broadway to the coffeehouse. Eventually I found the location...only to discover that they had closed early for staff training!!! I could see them through the window, sitting around a table laughing and drinking America's second best coffee. I managed to catch the eye of one employee and quickly seized upon the opportunity to mime flying a plane then pointing at myself then pointing at her, but it was to no avail. (Now that I think about it, I wonder what she thought I was trying to say?)

Anyway, my wonderful wife, faithful and generous partner that she is, came back early the next night so I could try getting that coffee that I wanted without flaying my arms around in the process.

I brought home a couple of bags of their coffee which I'm trying to make last until Christmas morning, but I'm getting through the beans pretty quickly. There in lies the only downside to the experience. Intelligentsia only send their coffee beans (sold within 24 hours of roasting) across the USA and Canada. However, a bar has been set for standards in coffee. I suspect it will be sometime until I meet that standard again.

Kofenya

My in-law family live in a small town in Ohio called Oxford, home of Miami University (not to be confused with University of Miami - which is in the part of the country that you would expect it to be).

I've always liked Oxford. It has a nice feel to it and, due to a high student population, a number of cool cafes. My wife provided me with the opportunity to escape for a few minutes so I headed uptown to get some coffee. I came across Kofenya (apparently Russian for coffee) which I hadn't noticed before, but has apparently been there for about five years. It's the kind of place that I would think of when I thought about a coffeehouse. Nice atmosphere without being dark and grungy, the buzz of conversation and the aroma of coffee that could be smelled before you entered the door.

Every other table had someone using a laptop (I really should get one - it would make blogging more fun), people were studying, listening to their ipods or just conversing. One woman was weaving bracelets and another couple of friends were talking about the difference between Christians and non-Christians. I wish I could have heard more of what they were saying - you don't get conversations like that much amongst college aged students in Dublin.

All-in-all it was just a cool place to hang out. Plus it was the sort of place that on a good day could make you feel younger than you are, but on a bad day could well have the opposite effect!

I hoping I can visit a couple of the other cafes in Oxford before I leave.

True to its name

Travelling to see the in-laws meant a flight to Chicago, rent a car and drive for about five hours. There are closer airports, but it would have meant changing planes and we wanted to keep that kind of hassle to a minimum with our kids - plus it means an excuse for a couple of days in Chicago on the way home.

We decided to break the drive up with a stop at a motel in the middle of Indiana. By the time we arrived it was about 8pm local time, but it felt like 2:00am. Of course, this didn't stop me from going out for a cup of coffee once the kids were settled.

The place where we stayed didn't have much going for it, but I couldn't resist heading across to the 'Iron Skillet' - a dinner connected with a gas station. The first thing I noticed was that it was a smoking restaurant with a small area reserved for those of us who were a little more picky.

I chose to sit in a booth, but what I really wanted to do was sit with the truckers on stools at the counter. However, I noticed that there were a couple of things missing that would make it obvious that I was a fake - a well worn cap, an abundance of hair. Oh and a truck.

Within seconds of sitting down my waitress came and asked if I'd like something to drink. I ordered coffee and it soon arrived. A classic diner cup with a rounded rim and a slight curve to the body. It was accompanied by my own pot of coffee for me to refill as I pleased - God bless America!

Of course, I couldn't just order a coffee. I needed something with it. So, although it was now pressing on for 3:00am for me I ordered a plate of blueberry pancakes and watched ESPN while I waited. Soon enough my order arrived: pancakes and crispy bacon, little tubs of whipped butter and a small jug of warmed syrup all served on - what else? - an iron skillet. Brilliant.

On my way out I noticed that they were doing a Thanksgiving special on Thursday, but while I was intrigued with the thought of turkey, sweet potatoes and corn served up on a skillet I think enjoying it with family will be far better.

Cafe Americano

We are in the States for a few weeks visiting my wife's family in Ohio for Thanksgiving. So I hope to blog a little about coffee on this side of the Pond...

ZZZzzzzz

Oh man, I'm tired this evening. I think life with three young children is beginning to catch up on me. I'm not sure coffee will help, but I'll give it a go...

Poor Girl

As I was going for coffee this evening I heard a clunk-and-crash coming from a lane way just off the main street I was walking along. As I got closer I saw young girl whose entire exhaust had just fallen off her car! I paused for a moment wondering how I could help, but seeing two people talking with her I kept on walking on the other side of the road.

When I arrived at the coffeehouse and placed my book on the table while I removed my coat I was struck by its title: Beyond the Good Samaritan.

I felt awful.

Playing the Game

It was a quiet evening when I arrived at my local coffeehouse tonight and the area where I sat, with six small sofas and about a dozen cube-seats, was only occupied by a young couple, early twenties I'd say.

They started to kiss.

Now when I say kiss I mean they were really going for it the way that young lovers do when they don't give a stuff who else is around. Look, I'm no stranger to seeing people kiss in public, but wow, this was something else. He was really making a move on her. I think he might of been wanting to taste what she had for breakfast!

And then the strangest thing happened. They stopped kissing, he ordered a blueberry muffin and then proceeded to explain how to play chess!

Now when I say explaining the rules of chess I mean he was really going for it in a big way using packets if sugar, empty cups and a half eaten muffin to illustrate how each piece moves. The lesson concluded with this quote:

"A good chess player will be able to think five moves ahead. I can only think two or three moves ahead."

Yeah, thinks I, and I bet that it isn't just limited to chess.