A neighboring Republic

I'm working my way through an interesting book about the formation of the company and brand Republic of Tea.

Nearly a blog of sorts, the book is literally comprised of the correspondence (faxes - a technology that must please go away now) between the collaborators, a finely-aged entrepreneur who built and sold Banana Republic and a young, energized business-hippie. I met the hippie in a business meeting. He's still an interesting guy, but not so much the youngest anymore.

Incidentally, I believe these kind of hippies are called Ecopreneurs now. So says the friend of mine who wrote another book Build a Green Small Business (I'm such a bookworm today - spectacular). And yes, my author friend is definitely a modern hippie, right down to the day he disappeared on the Appalachian Trail and came back as Rip Van Winkle. He did eventually buy a razor.

Part of the beauty in the eponymous Republic of Tea book is the honest passion these guys have for their product -- to their mind their calling -- to improve and spread the word about tea. I do understand. I certainly admire the passion. But the person who loves tea tends to do so with an audible slight towards those of us married to a darker lover.

As one of the authors starts off:

Fueled by coffee, life moved very rapidly for me in that other Republic, so fast that I began to sense I was missing something quite grand along the way. The sensation grew until I could bear it no longer. I was compelled to defect. Fleeing the race-to-nowhere that had been my life, I tasted the joys of existence in a new way - sip by sip rather than gulp by gulp.

I hear you. It's about pace and appreciation. And quality. Most of all quality. But is coffee so incapable of that? Sure, coffee and coffee savants are fused with a certain kineticism that makes tea drinkers uncomfortable. And I can't promise to french press oily beans every morning -- though oh so nice when I can. But to say that we cafiends don't appreciate quality is simply flawed and short-sighted in its own right. Like a ceviche fan disparaging an aged prime rib.

Frankly, it sounds like they were drinking bad coffee too. Bummer. That too can be mended.

So I take umbrage sirs. But I do enjoy your book. And it seems that you've left a market of premium beverage lovers unserved by your fanaticism for leaves alone. Perhaps it's time for me to explore development of a republic of beans.

An homage to a perfect cup of prose

Back in the digital dark ages, before everyone posted their diaries, shopping lists, and trips to Kogi up for their friends and acquaintances, there was a cool little site called Fray. And that's the version I mean too; if you go to fray.com now, it's similar but not quite as open. Good for them, but at least the old version is still there.

The Fray concept was, well, basically a multi-user blog. But regulated for quality. True stories by people who can tell them. In other words, it was totally awesome. Definitely take a look.

A few of my favorites there are Letterman on Acid and Lost. But my favorite - no surprise - for the lines here alone was a little ditty called Perfect Cup of Coffee by Alexis Massie:

Coffee is an elixir, the one drug that is both utterly legal and
utterly acceptable. I've been drinking a pot or two of this stuff
for twelve years. Coffee is a lifestyle that is so omnipresent that
we don't even notice it. People that don't drink coffee are weird.

It's true. People that don't drink coffee are weird. Like people who never get tired, or sarcastic, or sad. They cannot be trusted. Because no one is without weakness. Some people just fake it better than others.

And because somewhere between your weaknesses and your passions is why you do the thing you do. People who cover that up constantly are either lying to you, lying to themselves, or both. Sounds dangerous either way.

Better to drink another imperfect cup.

Take a look at Fray some time while you do. New or old, I think it's great stuff.

Spectacular Coffee Art

I can't go too far here without pointing out where I "stole" the excellent coffee cup mosaic for my profile. The site is: www.justcoffeeart.com. Click the gallery button and enjoy the show. Beautiful work.

I'll try to find some more as we move along here. Of course if you haven't seen it yet -- and this seems unlikely for any serious coffee fans -- go to YouTube.com and type in "coffee art" to see fun & games with espresso and foam. Some definitely ranks as amazing. All of it's coffee. So at least you can think tasty thoughts if the artistic side doesn't work for you.

Sleep. Get some.

I find it pretty ironic here that I work on sleep aids. It's not that I don't like them or use them, sure, they hit the spot. But it's not like I'll be popping up in the morning and making eggs for you. Mornings suck. No amount of drug or nature is going to change that.

In fact, as coffee lovers, let's be honest. The first cup of coffee is merely functional. It's not pleasurable as much as it is like coming up for air. I need air. It gets me moving. But that first cup can't make me fly, so the attachment is more thanks or relief than joy. Apparently this is the emotion New Yorkers feel when they win the world series. Just relieved it won't be another year of pain. I wouldn't know, I'm from Baltimore and L.A. The emotions we feel about baseball are, "fucking Angelos" (Peter that is) and "fucking Manny" respectively. Though it sounds funny to say SoCal people feel emotions about baseball. Really it feels like lying. Mostly they just don't.

I'm sure I've had a few really good first morning cups. So that would generally be home-brewed, drip (like my blood shot eyes can do anything else that early), and lately Peet's with sugary creamer. Preferably cools off a few minutes. Sometimes my wife makes it. That's where the thanks feeling comes in. Like, thanks for my heroin needle dear... she's looking out for me. Even though she only drinks tea.

Today's tally, a weak and watery 2.
- resort restaurant and 7-11.