When you make a decent cup of the Amazingly, Freakishly Good coffees that Klekolo sells, you have 1/3 of a cup of grounds that sit, spent – exhausted even – in the filter expressing their sacrifice. “Dammit man, we gave our all for you!” And they did. Don’t know about Read more…
I did some checking and found curious coincidences between Middletown, home of Klekolo, and London, Ontario, Canada, where I imbibe my Klekolo coffee. Both cities have the nickname, “the Forest City,” presumably about our shared affection for Tom Hanks movies. Both cities featured largely in Middlesex County, well at least Read more…
I don’t mean Klekolo’s. It’s just a sad day. I asked last week if anyone had cause to blend their own beans. Today I am drinking such a blend, using the last of my Café Mam and Papua New Guinea beans. Also, a refinement from last week, I found an Read more…
Damn. I’m late. I skipped coffee yesterday. It’s like how I imagine putting your underwear on backwards must feel. Something, throughout the day, feels wrong, but you’re otherwise too distracted to pinpoint what it is, precisely. Fortunately for me and my underwear, I’d grown accustomed to putting the tag in Read more…
Clouds broke (though it was already sunny), angels sang (despite the fact they are harpists), and my taste buds danced (even though they are, well, you know, attached to my tongue). This was a kick-ass cup of coffee.