There’s something about January that makes you look backward in preparation for going forward…
So I have been thinking about the year that just passed. The high points. And the low.
Spilling red wine on my computer at the Specialty Coffee Convention in Minneapolis on the weekend of my book launch was one of the the low low points–my beloved Mac, ruined.! In retrospect: what comedy: Holding my computer as if it were an injured child, clutching an address in my hand, I jumped into a cab ordering the driver to take me to the the nearest Mac store. The cabbie had just arrived in Minneapolis from Senegal. He had no idea where anything was located. A GPS device sat on his dashboard, but he was so frightened and disoriented that couldn’t absorb the GPS data. “Turn left on Fairfax,” the bodyless voice intoned, and the driver paused and turned right. “Change direction.” “Change direction, the machine ordered. “Go right at the light and then turn right again.” The driver hesitated, then ignored a red light and drove through an intersection, turning neither left nor right. The machine squawked. I screamed. Screamed like a nutcase. Like a character in a TV sit com. The poor driver was overcome, sweating, hunched over the wheel. Eventually, I realized I was in the presence of a psychiatric crisis far more serious than my own. I gathered my resources. “You must be calm, I said in fractured French. “Calmez-vous. Calmez-vous et Entend! “You must be calm so you can hear what the machine is saying. I talked the driver down off the roof and slowly we made our way to the Mac store where I either so stupid or so overcome with pity that I give him a $20 tip –poor son of a bitch, so far from home. My computer, of course, had suffered a fatal blow and could not be repaired.
Minneapolis was not a highpoint of my year.
Seattle was a highpoint.
My book promoting trip to Seattle last fall provided ego gratifications of Stephen Kingian proportions. I was greeted like a visiting celebrity–well, mini-celebrity: interviewed, invited, shown all the best spots, introduced to the most interesting foodies.
I talk about God in a Cup at one of Michael Hebb’s famous One Pot underground dinners, taking question after question from a sold out crowd, each of them clutching a copy of my book. (Would that writing were as easy and pleasurable as talking!)
That’s me in a skirt with Michael Hebb, aka Hebberoy, Seattle “food provocateur.”
The pleasures of Seattle were legion.
I drank a near perfect cappuccino at the legendary Cafe Vivace. You could wrap yourself in the cashmere of that milk foam and it would keep you warm…
I met up again with that talented Guatemalan coffee producer Arturo Aguirre Jr. from the Finca El Injerto at a Stumptown producers event. (I am drinking his Pacamara this morning.)
That’s Arturo and his wife and Stumptown Coffee buyer Aleco Chigounis:
My tour guide (and new friend)m Seattle blogger and foodie extraordinaire, Traca Savadogo (Seattle Tall Poppy.com) was responsible for a lot of the fun I had in Seattle. It’s hard to land in a town, knowing you are going to spend just a few day and connect with the right people. Thanks to Traca, that just wasn’t an issue.
Traca gave me the grand tour, showing me all the really important stuff in Seattle.
The troll under the highway:
The statue of Lenin:
The Ballard Market where Friends don’t let Friends eat Farmed Salmon:
And the carrots at the Ballard market:
Traca took me to the waterfront Market, too, where great mounds of chanterelles were displayed:
The freaks were good natured:
And even the young Orthodox guys from the Chabad mobile are sweet, handsome and benefit from the healthy Seattle lifestyle:
It was Traca, too, who introduced me to the uber talented young chef Ethan Stowell. Along with a small group of boon companions we shared a cornucopia of small plates prepared by Stowell at his downtown restaurant, Union. And I who rarely eat fatty meats swooned for crispy pork belly cleverly paired with earthy, fibrous legumes:
And then there was the matter of my chocolate awakening.
Until Seattle, I had not had the chocolate conversion experience. I liked dark chocolate. But I didn’t get dark chocolate, and chocolate as a culinary subject had not yet engage me.
Then Traca introduced me to Claudio Corallo Chocolate on Seattle’s NW Market Street and something began shifting in my understanding of chocolate as a plant with a seed that is fermented and roasted and that recalls the taste of coffee.
In the weeks since my trip to Seattle that interest in chocolate, especially the coffee-like chocolate produced by Claudio Corollo has germinated…
More about that in the next day or two…