Desayuno en España

One of my favorite parts of Spain, this time, was breakfast.

I am both a person who enjoys breakfast and a person who needs it: if I’m up and about for too long without eating anything, I start to wilt and then I crash. It’s not pretty.

Happily for me, the Spanish also love their breakfast. I had nearly the same thing every morning during our time in Spain: una tostada y café con leche.

In my regular life, I am adamantly not a coffee drinker: even my long-ago stint as a barista failed to convert me to coffee, though it did help establish my tea addiction. But I first tried café con leche on a long-ago midwinter weekend in Valencia, and loved it, to my own surprise. So this time, I took full advantage of the opportunity to enjoy it every morning.

The other element of breakfast in Spain is una tostada: toasted or grilled bread topped with crushed tomatoes and doused in olive oil. This, as my new friend Karen points out, is the traditional option, but many places offer variations on the theme: con queso, con mermelada, con jamón (cheese, marmalade or jam and sliced ham, respectively). My favorite variation: con aguacate (avocado).

That’s what you see above, at what quickly became my favorite cafe in Sevilla: Café Hércules. They offer several types of bread, then let you mix and match your own toppings. Plus the staff are friendly, the coffee is delicious, and the whole relaxed-funky-local vibe reminded me irresistibly of my beloved Darwin’s.

We tried several other breakfast spots in Sevilla, mostly thanks to Karen’s recs. She’s an American travel writer and blogger whom we met at a yoga class on our first morning there. After class, we all went for desayuno in the nearby plaza, and Karen told me about her blog. By a semi-coincidence, we ran into Karen and her husband, Rich, at Bar Alfalfa – another one of Karen’s faves – a few days later.

My other favorite part of eating out is the people-watching, and desayuno offers a perfect way to do that: sipping a café and munching a tostada in a neighborhood bar means you have a reason to be there and plenty of time to watch the locals come in and out. We always left caffeinated and fortified. And since we got home, we’ve been making our own tostadas on Saturday mornings while we watch the World Cup. A little taste of Spain.

More Spain photos and stories to come.

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Alchemy, science and wonder

“It’s only alchemy until you know how it works.”

So said a friend of mine recently, as he stood behind the counter at (where else?) Darwin’s, steaming the milk for my chai latte. That’s admittedly one of the simpler drinks they serve: one part spicy chai mix (which they make themselves), one part milk. But he was talking about the more complicated espresso-based drinks they offer: latte, cappuccino, macchiato, mocha, cortado. He had done a refresher course the day before, and found himself newly fascinated with this everyday alchemy, the process of taking disparate ingredients and blending them into something new.

I understood what he meant. I remembered the same aha! moment from my own barista days, when Barb and Cynthia showed me how to pull an espresso shot, steam a stainless-steel pitcher full of milk, add a dollop of rich chocolate or a smooth cap of foam, and create a whole that was greater than the sum of its parts. I’m not even a coffee drinker – I love the smell, can’t stand the bitter taste – but I found myself fascinated, then and now, by the process. It does make a new kind of sense when you watch the steps unfold one by one.

As I stood there that morning, though, listening to the whir of the milk steamer, the grind of the espresso machine, the morning music mix on the stereo, I thought: that factual knowledge doesn’t quite cover it.

I understand, empirically, that a shot of espresso plus steamed milk equals a latte, that a cappuccino has more foam, that a mocha includes a shot of chocolate and that chemical reactions explain a lot of the taste and texture (and pleasure) we get from those drinks. But there are also other, less measurable ingredients at play: the sunset-colored walls, the music, the smiles from my favorite staff members. That, too, is everyday alchemy (or magic) – and even though those elements are familiar and ordinary, they delight me every single day.

This applies to more than coffee: I understand most of the science behind the steps I follow to make a pot of soup, marinate and roast a chicken, stir up a batch of scones. But I believe there’s room for wonder alongside our knowledge of how those processes work. It isn’t alchemy in the Nicolas Flamel sense, perhaps – but it’s still everyday magic.

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#AugustBreak 2015: numbers

The menu at my favorite coffee shop, where I have been spending an inordinate amount of time (drinking, alternately, chai lattes and ginger peach tea) this summer.

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boston haunts: caffe vittoria

I’ve only been to Caffe Vittoria, tucked amid Italian restaurants in Boston’s busy North End, a few times. Usually, when J and I venture to the North End, we’re either leading friends down the Freedom Trail, to sights including Paul Revere’s house and the Old North Church, or we’re sniffing out our newest spot for a yummy Italian dinner. (And I mean that literally; the aromas from restaurant kitchens waft out onto the sidewalks, enticing customers with garlic, butter, herbs and so many good things.)

We usually head to Mike’s Pastry after dinner for cannoli and call it a night. But last fall, my parents and I ended up in the North End one cool afternoon, so we stopped in for some rich, creamy hot chocolate:

This past weekend, we were with friends, some of whom wanted cannoli, so we sent them to Mike’s and stopped at Caffe Vittoria for gelato:

Mmm. I love a good versatile cafe. A cafe for all seasons, if you will. I’ll definitely be going back for more gelato – and hot chocolate – this fall.

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for the love of chai lattes

Confession: I’ve sort of developed a Starbucks habit.

As a former barista at a beloved independent (now defunct), I once swore up and down that Starbucks was the enemy. I refused to order anything, out of principle, when my family stopped there on our way out of town. I turned my nose up at all their products (I still don’t love their teas), and I was basically quite pompous and self-righteous about the whole thing.

This began to change when I lived in Oxford. My housemate Lizzie worked at Starbucks, and would occasionally phone down to the house on her long shifts, begging one of us to come up and see her. I’d hop on my green bike, glad for a break from schoolwork, and pedal and pant my way up steep Headington Hill, then breeze up a few blocks to her Starbucks and order a peppermint hot chocolate or a chai latte. Sometimes I perched at a table across from the register, so she could talk to me; sometimes I’d make myself less conspicuous, curling up in a soft green chair and reading or writing, and Lizzie would toss me a remark or two as she wiped tables nearby. I still spent more time and money at my other beloved Oxford cafes, but I didn’t mind Starbucks quite so much any more.

There are a couple of great indie cafes near my current workplace – I love Thinking Cup and Boston Common Coffee House, and I make frequent visits for lunch or other treats. But there’s a Starbucks right in my building, and on mornings when I’ve had too little sleep and not enough caffeine, or when the temperature in my office is colder than the rainy day outside, or when I just need a treat to warm me and cheer me, I head downstairs and order a tall chai latte. I watch the baristas joke with each other and chat with their customers; I sneak glances at my fellow customers, observe what they’re wearing and reading, wonder about their lives. And then I walk back up to my office with a warm cup of creamy chai goodness.

I’m still a staunch supporter of all things indie, and I’ll keep buying books at the Booksmith and yarn at the Windsor Button and produce at the farmer’s market. But I’m shelving my pride and admitting that, as far as chai lattes and convenience are concerned, there’s also room for Starbucks in my life.

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list #30: my triumphs

1. Qualifying – twice – for the National Spelling Bee.
2. Receiving poetry underlined in green – which means good things – from Al Haley, my creative writing professor.
3. Becoming a book reviewer for Shelf Awareness, after reading it and loving it for three years.
4. Seeing my name in print in Radiant and ACU Today (and online in various places). Thrills me every time.
5. Every single time I’ve been offered a job. Because it means they picked me.
6. Mastering the long list of regulars – and their drinks – at the Ground Floor, so I knew everyone’s name and order when they walked in the door.
7. Sinking a basket in a seventh-grade basketball game (the only one I made all season).
8. Finishing my master’s thesis.
9. Living abroad, by myself, for a year – I had a strong community around me, but that year tested me in important ways.
10. Living alone in my own apartment for a year (the year before I moved to Oxford).
11. Knitting a whole sweater – big, chunky, a little lopsided, but an actual sweater.
12. Moving across the country to Boston – nearly a year ago now – and beginning to make a home here.
13. Singing a solo at the coronation ceremony before my senior prom. (And surprising everyone who thought I was just a bookish flute player.)
14. Giving the salutatorian’s speech at my high school graduation.

What are some of your triumphs? I’d love to hear them. I think we all deserve a cheer sometimes.

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list #17: boston cafes

Some people, when they move to a city, start looking for restaurants; others seek out clubs or bars, or similar hot spots. Me? Well, I go for the bookstores. And the cafes. Here are the ones I frequent:

1. Athan’s Bakery in Brookline, site of my weekly coffee night with Abi and Shanna. I love the big picture window, hung with golden-green draperies and twined with twinkle lights. The pastries are delicious, and I enjoy pouring tea out of my own individual pot-bellied silver teapot.

2. Starbucks on Charles Street, at the junction of the Common, the Public Garden and Beacon Hill. I’m usually an indie-cafe girl, but I love this Starbucks because my friend Lisa, when she lived in Boston, used to come here all the time. (We’ve taken to calling it “our” Starbucks.)

3. Boston Common Coffee House, around the corner from the Brattle, serves yummy cookies, comforting soup, other sweet treats, and Mighty Leaf tea.

4. Thinking Cup is a brand-new, cozy shop tucked off the east side of the Common. I stopped in for a chai latte one day and fell in love.

5. Francesca’s, on Tremont St. in the South End, is charming and twinkly, and their scones and drinks are delish.

6. Crema Cafe in Harvard Square – a new discovery – offers a bustling, comfy setting, delicious tomato bisque, and Felipe’s hot chocolate – which has cinnamon, nutmeg and zing.

7. Tealuxe, also in Harvard Square, is a tea connoisseur’s delight. I am intimidated, and delighted, by their extensive tea selection.

8. Caffe Vittoria, on Hanover Street in the North End, has a lovely European ambiance, rich hot chocolate and an excellent location.

For those who know Boston, am I missing any good ones? And for all the rest of you, what are your favorite cafes where you live?

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list #13: my favorite smells

1. Damp earth after a rain.
2. Woodsmoke on a cold night.
3. The Leaves candle, from B&BW.
4. Banana Republic Classic perfume, which I started wearing because my mom wore it. So elegant.
5. Coffee perking (though I won’t drink it).
6. Cinnamon tea brewing. (I will drink this, gladly!)
7. Fresh buttered popcorn.
8. My husband after a shower. Mmmm.
9. Ripe peaches, dripping with juice.
10. Sweet treats baking in the oven. (A combination of butter-sugar-chocolate-yum.)
11. Mesquite-grilled chicken (sadly rare around here).
12. Old books.
13. Pepperminty lip gloss.
14. Curry.
15. Spring flowers with a subtle scent – tulips, daffodils.
16. Boston’s North End – garlic, butter, pasta, heaven.
17. Apple cider simmering on the stove.
18. Fresh-picked basil.
19. Pine needles.
20. Vanilla – so wholesome and sweet.
21. Citrus fruit.
22. Towels fresh from the dryer.
23. Salty sea air.
24. Soup simmering – tomato, Tuscan sausage, butternut squash, jalapeno, chili. The smell of spice and nourishment.

What do you love to smell?

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lunch breaks: where i go

Most of the time, I don’t mind the office life. (Though we all know I’d rather be writing in a cafe in some exotic location.) My office has enough space for me, and I’ve brought in a few colorful items to make it feel homey. However, after a few hours of working within the same four walls, I need to get out.

I usually bring my lunch from home – leftovers or soup in a Tupperware box, stacked neatly in the fridge with everyone else’s leftovers. There’s also a food court downstairs, making it even less necessary to leave the building. But I always need to stretch my legs, and I frequently have errands to run or someplace I want to visit. And I want to get out into the city, get to know my new downtown neighborhood, try to learn the rhythm of this new dance I’m a part of every day. So even if it’s freezing (and it frequently is), I pull on my coat and hat, sling my purse over my shoulder, and I’m off.

Often I head out the door and turn east, to visit the post office or the bank or spend a little while browsing at the Brattle. I’ve treated myself to a lunch or two at Thinking Cup, on the days when we run out of leftovers or I need a little something special.

Sometimes I head west, either to ramble around the Public Garden, pop into Paper Source to ogle the pretty stationery, or stroll down to Copley Square to browse the closing sale at Borders. (The big, glass-fronted Borders in Downtown Crossing is staying open, but the one near Copley will be gone soon.) Sometimes I head north up Charles Street, to browse the clothing racks at Second Time Around, and peek in the pretty windows of boutiques whose wares I can’t afford.

When it’s warmer I plan to take my lunch and a book out to the Common, to read and eat and watch the people and let the breezes play with my hair. It’s still too cold to do that, but for now, at least I can get a little exercise, take care of a life detail or two, or simply stop in somewhere for a chai latte, a good book or a bouquet of fresh flowers. (This habit is not, I admit, always great for my wallet. But it’s good for my body and my soul.)

How do you spend your lunch breaks?

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boston haunts: thinking cup cafe

There’s a new cafe next to the Common. And it has stolen my heart.

On a recent errand-filled lunch break, I passed by Thinking Cup, as I had done for the past couple of weeks, noting its cheerful chalkboard easel, propped up outside the door, advertising its French hot chocolate or a hazelnut latte with real roasted hazelnuts. After the post office and the bank, I decided I needed a treat, so I slipped inside.

And fell in love.

There is no shortage of cafes in Boston, but I had yet to find one that felt like mine in every respect, and was close enough to visit frequently. I like the Charles Street Starbucks because of its location (right on the Common) and because it was my friend Lisa’s hangout when she lived in Boston. (Now I text her when I stop in for a hot chocolate, and let her know I’m at “our” Starbucks.) But it’s still slickly corporate, and I’m an indie girl at heart.

This place is indie. And filled with soft light and dark wood and tables for two topped with laminated front pages of old Boston newspapers. It boasts a pastry case filled with delectable treats, a carefully curated selection of looseleaf teas, a soup-and-sandwich menu, and the perfect relaxed/cozy vibe. I ordered a chai to go, but I went back that very night after work and ordered a pot of tea and curled up and wrote for a while.

Of course, I can’t spend hours here now, the way I could have when I was unemployed – and it just opened in December, anyway. But I can pop by on my lunch break for a hot drink, or before work on particularly frigid mornings. And if I know J’s going to be home late, I can head over there for a cup of something warm and some writing time.

I think I’m always searching, in every city I live in, for its equivalent to the Ground Floor, the coffee shop in Midland where I worked and hung out and wrote and learned to make all my favorite drinks. I loved everything about that little shop, but what I loved best was that I knew everyone there. And they knew me. (Besides, it had a large selection of tea, an array of yummy pastries, mellow music, big windows for sunlight to spill through, and lots of time and space to write.)

Since I left Midland and the Ground Floor closed, I’ve been looking for its replacement wherever I go. In Abilene, it was Mezamiz; in Oxford it was both Queen’s Lane and the Jericho Cafe. In Boston I thought it might be Francesca’s, in the South End, but the problem is I’m never over there. And Quincy is sadly lacking in good cafes, and I spend my days downtown now, anyway. So I’m hoping very much that this is it. A cafe I can write and read and dream in, and where I can know and be known.

Care to join me for a cuppa?

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