14 Feb 2011 No Comments
Chemex Creations
I really feel like I should be paying Alex for something I’ve learned about coffee this year- It is like I’m enrolled in ome of those $100 dollar barista courses, except I do not have to spend anything (not to mention, I get to chill with some pretty awesome individuals within the process). Neo, Alex and I organised in Espwesso (our student-run cafe, which I truly don’t know why I haven’t written a post on yet) to brew the peaberry beans I bought at O Cafe. Little did I know that Alex, who had spent the weekend in New York, had brought a lot of what he referred to as “new toys,” including a Chemex. The Chemex coffee maker has hardly changed since first introduced by Peter Schlumbohm in 1941. It still has that familiar tankless water heaters hourglass figure, that bentwood collar tied in place having a rawhide strap threaded via a wood bead. The Chemex you can purchase today is basically the same object which was added to the collection of the Museum of Modern Art nearly 70 years ago. It may get by on looks alone. The Chemex feels classic along with a little unfamiliar, as if it’s from a slightly much more rational and groovier future not so far away. The appeal is easy. It’s for purists. You’re in manage: the water temperature, the flow, the pacing are as much as you. It indicates the extraction is up to you. It is as straightforward as a drip cone (except for the filters; much more on that beneath), only it is much more sophisticated and feels much metal detector better within the hand. As soon as you spend the six minutes it takes to discover how to use a Chemex, you’ll run circles around that plug-in machine you’ve cluttering up your counter. Additionally, it has the clean hourglass shape of the original; the classic and glass handle both have a slight roundness to the bottom. And when the handblown is more expensive, expense is relative. The six-cup coffee maker, which serves one or two coffee drinkers (according to Chemex’s math, one cup equals five ounces, so the six-cup has a 30-ounce capacity), costs around $78. The glass in the classic and glass handle is produced in Taiwan. (The glass handle is favored by coffee bars – there’s no wood or leather, so it can go in the dishwasher.) Both cost the same, around $36 for the six-cup. Both of them are easy to find. The Chemex was really my first introduction to pourover coffee, and to be honest, I was never a huge fan. To be fair, this was when I drank almost exclusively espresso and couldn’t enjoy coffee as a tea-like beverage with occasional fruity notes. I also couldn’t appreciate coffee that wasn’t scorching hot, and Chemex coffee takes a while. My “home base” cafe, Istria, lately produced the transition from microdermabrasion machines Chemex to Hario V60. When I asked Alex about this, he stated that Chemex is better for house brewing, because it makes sufficient to serve about two individuals. I do, nevertheless, like the Chemex’s “rustic” look. To me, it appears like the sort of thing you would carry about within the desert while riding camel-back. We used two coffees: the peaberry from O Cafe along with a Joe Sumatra. Alex tweaked the grind a couple occasions for every coffee: I had no idea how he knew what to change; I was pleased enough when I agreed that the very first cup was overextracted. I do not question, I just listen and watch the masters at work. When it comes to tasting, I’m also just studying about flavor profiling. It is so difficult to articulate the underlying flavors within a cup of coffee even when you know they’re there. However when recognizing the presence of “red pepper notes” or even “fig,” you would like to slap your forehead and wonder why you hadn’t thought of that. This is all relative, of course- I do believe that a lot with the time coffee labels are pretentious games of word association. “Sweet” becomes “caramel,” and the hard money lenders subsequent thing you realize, your coffee tastes like “a warm slice of apple pie on an autumn day, the crisp leaves coming in the wind.” Overstatement, I know. The sumatra was excellent, do not get me wrong, but the red pepper flavor Alex pointed out did catch me a little off-guard. I’m realizing that you by no means know what to anticipate from Indonesian coffees: each and every single cup I’ve had is various. The sumatra was great, do not get me wrong, but the red pepper flavor Alex pointed out did catch me a little off-guard. I’m realizing that you never know what to expect from Indonesian coffees: each and every single cup I’ve had is various. A trip to New York may be happening this weekend… who knows what coffee adventures lie in store?