Anyone here tried that new mushroom blend coffee I see advertised on TV. Can't imagine a coffee made from mushrooms alone would taste anything like coffee.
A couple of weeks ago I was at a large wholesale discount (or is it a discount wholesale) place in Moselle, MS. They had cases of Starbucks Special Reserve whole bean coffee priced at $3.00 per 8 oz. bag. With my military discount, it was $2.60 a bag. I decided to buy four bags because my daughter-in-law likes Starbucks coffee and whole bean coffee. (She prefers to buy the coffee/beans and brew at home instead of paying stupid prices.). I kept a bag for myself.
I used a small blade grinder and made some. It wasn't bad. I used to have a Cusinart Burr Grinder but couldn't find it so I bought a new one and have been grinding enough beans each morning for two or three cups of coffee.
I'm using a Bodum Pour Over coffee maker and brew about 8 oz. at a time. What I like about it is because of the ball like shape of the bottom, if you pour slowly any coffee bits remain in the carafe.
I just finished my last cup from the Starbucks beans and I'm getting ready to grind some Fog Chaser beans from San Francisco Bay Coffee. The roast is medium dark. I paid $20 for a 2 lb. bag so I'm hoping I like it.
Coffee & Tobacco: 3 Blends To Pair w/Your Morning Cup by Daniel Bumgardner
I'm not sure what Mondays would be without coffee. Likely a sleepy haze of indiscernible communication and thoughtless activity, I'd wager. Thankfully, caffeine exists, as do some pretty neat and flavorful ways to imbibe it, many of which pair phenomenally with a number of our favorite tobaccos. A little over a year ago, Social Media Liaison Adam O' Neill posted a very informative article on the blog outlining a guide for pairing tea and tobacco. http://tinyurl.com/zr7vzt9
While my tea experience is relatively limited (my most extensive foray having come from a daily Oolong excursion and a one-time witnessing of the traditional Gong Fu ceremony, courtesy of Shane), I do regularly enjoy, like many of us around here and presumably many of you, a strong cup of well-brewed coffee to accompany my morning pipe.
And, like many of you, I have a preferred means of consumption. This time of year, that tends to be four espresso shots of a medium roast blend, pulled over ice and nursed throughout the better part of a morning (the dense, humid South Carolina mornings don't pair well with a hot cup, in my opinion). Unlike my coffee, however, my daily tobacco selection tends to vary depending on my mood, though, admittedly, this time of year considerably narrows the window of what I tend to reach for. So, in celebration of the favorite part of everyone's Monday (what else is there to look forward to?), we thought we'd take a look at three tobaccos which we think pair beautifully with coffee.
1. Escudo -- I could probably make a list of just Virginia/Perique blends with which to pair with any number of things (coffee, tea, and for the more adventurous: orange soda), but these delicate, finely-spun coins of Virginias from North Carolina and Virginia and Louisiana Perique are my go-to blend in the morning during the summer months. Flavors of hay, dark fruit, toffee, and a subtle hint of chocolate abound.
2. Solani Aged Burley Flake -- There's a hint of dark fired that comes through in the fresh tin note on this one, but after jarring it and letting it sit for about a week or two, I get the very distinct impression of freshly baked fudge brownies. There's a little hint of cocoa around the middle of the bowl too, along with a graham cracker-like flavor. Who doesn't want brownies for breakfast?
3. Key Largo -- I just started smoking blends containing Latakia with any regularity this year (it took a hot-weather craving for something a little darker to really entice my palate), but this creamy broken flake of Red Virginias, Turkish, Cyprian Latakia, and a subtle spice of cigar wrapper leaf is gorgeously balanced, with cocoa, notes of leather, and even a dark coffee-like note present throughout the bowl. A perfect all-weather smoke.
I love coffee. I always have. Even as a child, coffee had a strange attraction for me. Though I wasn’t allowed more than a sip or two for fear that it would stunt my growth, something which clearly did not occur, I loved everything about it. I can easily recall trips to our local java shop to pick up the week’s freshly roasted beans, still warm and fragrant. I’d walk home, clutching the bag to my chest, delighting in the rich aroma rising in the air to tantalize my senses, taunting me with the promise of the dark, forbidden nectar locked within.
After dinner most nights, with the kettle on the cooker, filter cone folded for the Chemex, an old manual grinder filled with the proper measure of beans would make its journey round the table as many times as necessary, everyone having a few turns until the ritual was complete. The grounds were tapped from its light maple drawer into the filter, then water just off the boil was swirled over them, and the delicious liquor would first trickle slowly and then drip into the glass flask, each drop dancing enthusiastically as it landed on the surface below until the brew was ready to be shared.
It was inevitable that the ritual of coffee, as much as the fluid itself, would follow me through life. When I went out on my own, I bought my first French press and my own grinder, and was well set on a path of coffee exploration. Unfortunately, it wasn’t long before a new acquaintance, a self-styled member of a burgeoning movement of the coffee cognoscenti, told me I was “doing it all wrong,” that if I was ever to become a true connoisseur, I’d have to forgo my childish fascination with darker roasts, and seek out only exotic single origins beans, roasted to perfection, just enough to bring out each variety’s exotic nuances. And, that grinder would never do! It’s whirling blade didn’t actually grind the beans, but pulverized them into an inconsistent muddle of particles totally unsuited to the extraction of the more delicate flavor compounds.
And so it began. I bought a spendy burr grinder, a new Chemex flask and a box of unbleached filter rounds. I began frequenting smaller roasteries, expanding my exploration to reach every new coffee I could find, from every part of the globe it was grown. (I still remember one particular batch of Sumatra Mandheling from a small roaster in Berkeley, an experience that has never since been duplicated.)
I started researching the best water temperatures and grind size for different brewing methods. I used filtered water. I experimented with vacuum pots, all the various stove-top contrivances, different filter cones and materials. At one point, I constructed my own apparatus, a temperature controlled hot plate to heat the water to precisely the correct temperature, found through experimentation, bubbling it evenly over the waiting grounds. I learned how to “cup.” I took notes of all the different aromas and flavors I’d detect in each new coffee, each new preparation. I became, for a while, truly obsessed.
It was fun, of course; this is just the sort of avocation that is well-suited to my temperament. For years, I chased the perfect cup, often coming close, but never quite reaching it. Through all this, there was just one troublesome little problem. Even though I was wildly enjoying the process, I wasn’t often enjoying the results. Fact is, I missed my dark, pungent French roast.
If you’re into coffee, you’ll know that there’s a fairly negative association surrounding the darker roasts. Search the interwebs, and you’ll soon discover all the reasons you should avoid the stuff, that dark roasts are employed to mask off-flavors of inferior beans, that they have no “unique coffee taste,” lacking the “fruits and flowers” of lighter roasts, and, in the apparently rare case when good beans are used, the dark roasting ruins them, obscuring all the subtle notes of the beans and their complex sensory profiles behind the roast itself, leaving little behind but an earthy, smoky, bitter taste some call charred, others ashy. Some of this may be true, of course, and if you’re the cork-sniffing sort, it might even be something that matters a lot to you, but if, like me, you like a deep dark roast, who dares to say you’re wrong?
And, there’s the rub. I like the dark, chocolatey, smoky aromas and flavors of a good French roast, brewed in a press pot, or a Chemex, or my faithful, well used Bialetti Moka. It makes me happy, and that’s what really matters. I still enjoy exploring the fancy beans wearing lighter robes, but my first love is the dusky stuff, and no one should dictate what we should or should not enjoy.
But, what’s this got to do with pipes and tobacco? The other day, whilst enjoying my morning cup, an old pipe smoking friend rang up, squawking over the fact that he’d recently learned he’s been doing it wrong all these years. He’d apparently read a schooner load of commentary from the interweb pundits, and came to the realization that if he’s ever going to be a “real” pipe smoker (he’s had a pipe in his gob for more years than many of the “influencers” have not had a binky in theirs), he should be stoking his pipes only with the purest of tobaccos of a particular type, that everything else is for amateurs. Sound familiar? He’s tried many of these tobaccos more than once, often at my suggestion, and just hasn’t found much joy in them. He likes his sweet, aromatic blends, and he likes his cobs. So, he called to rant for a bit, and solicit whatever counsel I might offer, which set my mind meandering along the winding road of my own journey with tobacco, and with the dark French roast coffee in my cup. I’ve known this guy for a long time, have become familiar with his tastes, and know that he’s ultimately not likely to change anything.
“You want my advice? Keep smoking what you enjoy, explore outside your comfort zone when temptation or curiosity grabs hold of you. And, screw the reviews.” I wish someone had told me that about coffee all those years ago.
Pipe tobacco and coffee are a classic pairing for many pipe smokers, offering a complementary experience due to their shared flavor profiles and stimulating effects. Many enjoy the rich, earthy notes of certain tobaccos alongside the bitterness and aroma of coffee.
Popular Tobacco and Coffee Pairings: English Blends: English tobaccos, with their smoky and sometimes earthy flavors, are often recommended with coffee, especially strong, dark roasts.
Virginia Tobaccos: Straight Virginia or Virginia/Perique blends are also popular choices, offering a natural sweetness that can balance the bitterness of coffee. Aromatics: Some aromatics, particularly those with vanilla or coffee flavoring, can be a good match for coffee.
Specific Tobacco Recommendations: Peterson Early Morning Pipe, G.L. Pease Chelsea Morning, and Cornell & Diehl Bayou Morning Flake are frequently mentioned as excellent coffee pairings.
Tips for Pairing:
Consider the roast: Lighter roasts tend to pair well with sweeter tobaccos, while darker roasts complement more robust and earthy blends.
Think about the flavors: Look for tobaccos that offer complementary or contrasting flavors to your coffee, such as sweetness, earthiness, or spice.
Experiment: The best way to find your favorite pairings is to try different combinations and see what you enjoy.
Consider the caffeine level: If you are sensitive to caffeine, you might want to opt for a lighter blend or choose a non-caffeinated beverage.
This revolutionary aged coffee raises the bar on what’s possible in the world of fusion. Nostalgic and incredibly warm, this coffee has a phenomenal aroma and subtle natural notes that will surprise.
This revolutionary aged coffee raises the bar on what’s possible in the world of fusion. Nostalgic and incredibly warm, this coffee has a phenomenal aroma and subtle natural notes that will surprise.
Now, granted thatsome of the mentioned blends are no longer produced……
For pairing with coffee, consider English or aromatic blends, particularly those with nutty or chocolate notes, or a good Virginia. Some popular choices include Sutliff Coffee, Cornell & Diehl's Nutty Irishman, or Cult Blood Red Moon. For coffee, a medium roast with notes of cream, caramel, or chocolate can complement many pipe tobaccos.
Pipe Tobacco Recommendations: Sutliff Coffee: This blend of Virginias and black Cavendish is infused with the flavor of rich Brazilian coffee.
Coffee Recommendations: Medium roast single-origin Mexican: Offers notes of cream, soft caramel, and semi-sweet chocolate, according to Smokingpipes.com. Strong black coffee: Pairs well with English blends.
Comments
”Mushroom Coffee”…..can it be called coffee, or since it is a blend, does it contain actual coffee?
https://www.ryzesuperfoods.store/
I used a small blade grinder and made some. It wasn't bad. I used to have a Cusinart Burr Grinder but couldn't find it so I bought a new one and have been grinding enough beans each morning for two or three cups of coffee.
I'm using a Bodum Pour Over coffee maker and brew about 8 oz. at a time. What I like about it is because of the ball like shape of the bottom, if you pour slowly any coffee bits remain in the carafe.
I just finished my last cup from the Starbucks beans and I'm getting ready to grind some Fog Chaser beans from San Francisco Bay Coffee. The roast is medium dark. I paid $20 for a 2 lb. bag so I'm hoping I like it.
Coffee & Tobacco: 3 Blends To Pair w/Your Morning Cup by Daniel Bumgardner
I'm not sure what Mondays would be without coffee. Likely a sleepy haze of indiscernible communication and thoughtless activity, I'd wager. Thankfully, caffeine exists, as do some pretty neat and flavorful ways to imbibe it, many of which pair phenomenally with a number of our favorite tobaccos. A little over a year ago, Social Media Liaison Adam O' Neill posted a very informative article on the blog outlining a guide for pairing tea and tobacco. http://tinyurl.com/zr7vzt9
While my tea experience is relatively limited (my most extensive foray having come from a daily Oolong excursion and a one-time witnessing of the traditional Gong Fu ceremony, courtesy of Shane), I do regularly enjoy, like many of us around here and presumably many of you, a strong cup of well-brewed coffee to accompany my morning pipe.
And, like many of you, I have a preferred means of consumption. This time of year, that tends to be four espresso shots of a medium roast blend, pulled over ice and nursed throughout the better part of a morning (the dense, humid South Carolina mornings don't pair well with a hot cup, in my opinion). Unlike my coffee, however, my daily tobacco selection tends to vary depending on my mood, though, admittedly, this time of year considerably narrows the window of what I tend to reach for. So, in celebration of the favorite part of everyone's Monday (what else is there to look forward to?), we thought we'd take a look at three tobaccos which we think pair beautifully with coffee.
1. Escudo -- I could probably make a list of just Virginia/Perique blends with which to pair with any number of things (coffee, tea, and for the more adventurous: orange soda), but these delicate, finely-spun coins of Virginias from North Carolina and Virginia and Louisiana Perique are my go-to blend in the morning during the summer months. Flavors of hay, dark fruit, toffee, and a subtle hint of chocolate abound.
2. Solani Aged Burley Flake -- There's a hint of dark fired that comes through in the fresh tin note on this one, but after jarring it and letting it sit for about a week or two, I get the very distinct impression of freshly baked fudge brownies. There's a little hint of cocoa around the middle of the bowl too, along with a graham cracker-like flavor. Who doesn't want brownies for breakfast?
3. Key Largo -- I just started smoking blends containing Latakia with any regularity this year (it took a hot-weather craving for something a little darker to really entice my palate), but this creamy broken flake of Red Virginias, Turkish, Cyprian Latakia, and a subtle spice of cigar wrapper leaf is gorgeously balanced, with cocoa, notes of leather, and even a dark coffee-like note present throughout the bowl. A perfect all-weather smoke.
https://pipesmagazine.com/blog/fireside/confessions-of-a-coffee-drinker/
I love coffee. I always have. Even as a child, coffee had a strange attraction for me. Though I wasn’t allowed more than a sip or two for fear that it would stunt my growth, something which clearly did not occur, I loved everything about it. I can easily recall trips to our local java shop to pick up the week’s freshly roasted beans, still warm and fragrant. I’d walk home, clutching the bag to my chest, delighting in the rich aroma rising in the air to tantalize my senses, taunting me with the promise of the dark, forbidden nectar locked within.
After dinner most nights, with the kettle on the cooker, filter cone folded for the Chemex, an old manual grinder filled with the proper measure of beans would make its journey round the table as many times as necessary, everyone having a few turns until the ritual was complete. The grounds were tapped from its light maple drawer into the filter, then water just off the boil was swirled over them, and the delicious liquor would first trickle slowly and then drip into the glass flask, each drop dancing enthusiastically as it landed on the surface below until the brew was ready to be shared.
It was inevitable that the ritual of coffee, as much as the fluid itself, would follow me through life. When I went out on my own, I bought my first French press and my own grinder, and was well set on a path of coffee exploration. Unfortunately, it wasn’t long before a new acquaintance, a self-styled member of a burgeoning movement of the coffee cognoscenti, told me I was “doing it all wrong,” that if I was ever to become a true connoisseur, I’d have to forgo my childish fascination with darker roasts, and seek out only exotic single origins beans, roasted to perfection, just enough to bring out each variety’s exotic nuances. And, that grinder would never do! It’s whirling blade didn’t actually grind the beans, but pulverized them into an inconsistent muddle of particles totally unsuited to the extraction of the more delicate flavor compounds.
And so it began. I bought a spendy burr grinder, a new Chemex flask and a box of unbleached filter rounds. I began frequenting smaller roasteries, expanding my exploration to reach every new coffee I could find, from every part of the globe it was grown. (I still remember one particular batch of Sumatra Mandheling from a small roaster in Berkeley, an experience that has never since been duplicated.)
I started researching the best water temperatures and grind size for different brewing methods. I used filtered water. I experimented with vacuum pots, all the various stove-top contrivances, different filter cones and materials. At one point, I constructed my own apparatus, a temperature controlled hot plate to heat the water to precisely the correct temperature, found through experimentation, bubbling it evenly over the waiting grounds. I learned how to “cup.” I took notes of all the different aromas and flavors I’d detect in each new coffee, each new preparation. I became, for a while, truly obsessed.
It was fun, of course; this is just the sort of avocation that is well-suited to my temperament. For years, I chased the perfect cup, often coming close, but never quite reaching it. Through all this, there was just one troublesome little problem. Even though I was wildly enjoying the process, I wasn’t often enjoying the results. Fact is, I missed my dark, pungent French roast.
If you’re into coffee, you’ll know that there’s a fairly negative association surrounding the darker roasts. Search the interwebs, and you’ll soon discover all the reasons you should avoid the stuff, that dark roasts are employed to mask off-flavors of inferior beans, that they have no “unique coffee taste,” lacking the “fruits and flowers” of lighter roasts, and, in the apparently rare case when good beans are used, the dark roasting ruins them, obscuring all the subtle notes of the beans and their complex sensory profiles behind the roast itself, leaving little behind but an earthy, smoky, bitter taste some call charred, others ashy. Some of this may be true, of course, and if you’re the cork-sniffing sort, it might even be something that matters a lot to you, but if, like me, you like a deep dark roast, who dares to say you’re wrong?
And, there’s the rub. I like the dark, chocolatey, smoky aromas and flavors of a good French roast, brewed in a press pot, or a Chemex, or my faithful, well used Bialetti Moka. It makes me happy, and that’s what really matters. I still enjoy exploring the fancy beans wearing lighter robes, but my first love is the dusky stuff, and no one should dictate what we should or should not enjoy.
But, what’s this got to do with pipes and tobacco? The other day, whilst enjoying my morning cup, an old pipe smoking friend rang up, squawking over the fact that he’d recently learned he’s been doing it wrong all these years. He’d apparently read a schooner load of commentary from the interweb pundits, and came to the realization that if he’s ever going to be a “real” pipe smoker (he’s had a pipe in his gob for more years than many of the “influencers” have not had a binky in theirs), he should be stoking his pipes only with the purest of tobaccos of a particular type, that everything else is for amateurs. Sound familiar? He’s tried many of these tobaccos more than once, often at my suggestion, and just hasn’t found much joy in them. He likes his sweet, aromatic blends, and he likes his cobs. So, he called to rant for a bit, and solicit whatever counsel I might offer, which set my mind meandering along the winding road of my own journey with tobacco, and with the dark French roast coffee in my cup. I’ve known this guy for a long time, have become familiar with his tastes, and know that he’s ultimately not likely to change anything.
“You want my advice? Keep smoking what you enjoy, explore outside your comfort zone when temptation or curiosity grabs hold of you. And, screw the reviews.” I wish someone had told me that about coffee all those years ago.
English Blends: English tobaccos, with their smoky and sometimes earthy flavors, are often recommended with coffee, especially strong, dark roasts.
Straight Virginia or Virginia/Perique blends are also popular choices, offering a natural sweetness that can balance the bitterness of coffee.
Aromatics: Some aromatics, particularly those with vanilla or coffee flavoring, can be a good match for coffee.
Consider the roast:
Lighter roasts tend to pair well with sweeter tobaccos, while darker roasts complement more robust and earthy blends.
Authentic Double Cherry Pipe Tobacco Barrel Aged
This revolutionary aged coffee raises the bar on what’s possible in the world of fusion. Nostalgic and incredibly warm, this coffee has a phenomenal aroma and subtle natural notes that will surprise.
https://coldbloodedcoffeeandroastery.com/product/ghost-series-cherry-pipes-coffee/
Cherry Pipes Coffee
Authentic Double Cherry Pipe Tobacco Barrel Aged
This revolutionary aged coffee raises the bar on what’s possible in the world of fusion. Nostalgic and incredibly warm, this coffee has a phenomenal aroma and subtle natural notes that will surprise.
Sutliff Coffee: This blend of Virginias and black Cavendish is infused with the flavor of rich Brazilian coffee.
A burley-based blend with a nutty liqueur topping that goes well with coffee.
Medium roast single-origin Mexican: Offers notes of cream, soft caramel, and semi-sweet chocolate, according to Smokingpipes.com.
Strong black coffee: Pairs well with English blends.