Without a doubt, one of the best things about being my own boss and working from home is
coffee. But not just any old coffee - you can get any old coffee from the vending machine in Cubicle Nation. Oh no! When I talk about coffee, I'm referring to a daily love affair of two - possibly three but never more - cups of properly made cappuccinos a day.
I'm known amongst my circle of friends as a coffee snob. In fact, I think I may have even lost friends because of my coffee snobbery. There have been hints that, on my Fridays off (my "mummy days" when I try to catch up with other non Friday working mum and SAHM friends), I have not been invited to certain social events, as some think I'll turn my finely caffeinated nose up at their nescaff. They're right. I'd rather have a cup of builder's bum. And I really don't like tea much, except on the two occasions when I've been severely traumatised (childbirth x two) and then only with two sugars and lashings of sympathy.
The fact that I'm writing a blog post about coffee is testament to my love affair with the stuff. And yes, I do realise it's also testament to me being an anorak a l'extrème. But I console myself with the fact that I'm not the only one who has this strange but life-enhancing relationship with the bean of life. The New Zealanders are renowned for their love of coffee. For those in the know, New Zealand (and particularly Wellington) is the home of the best coffee in the world. It is one of the few countries in the world that imports its beans raw and roasts them locally, and, having drunk a fair few cups whilst I was down in the land of the long white cloud earlier this year, I believe that the Kiwis do make the best coffee in the world.
Whilst I was in New Zealand, I was introduced to the "flat white", which is best described as half way between a Cafe Latte and a Cappuccino. It is crafted by the Kiwis with loving care, and there is a standing joke that it takes 20 minutes to get your coffee. But boy, is it worth the wait! There is a particular texture in an impeccably crafted flat white that brings out the flavour of the coffee and gives the partnership of espresso and milk the same sort of divinity as peaches and cream or strawberries and champagne.
The trip to New Zealand was a reccie trip to see if we wanted to move there. Yes I do, because I simply can't contemplate living the rest of my life without access to Kiwi flat whites. My work shifting vision is firmly in Wellington, my dream house a mere hop away from flat white heaven.
Back from New Zealand, the withdrawal symptoms were so bad that I bought myself a new coffee machine, a bona fide tax deductible business expense as a happy bonus and a great excuse - as if I'd needed one.
New machine all set up, I went onto YouTube to find out how to make a flat white, only to discover after several failed attempts, that those darned Kiwis make it look far easier than it actually is. My new machine is a good one, and it makes a jolly good espresso, but alas, the skill is in she who crafts the coffee, and she is a mere amateur with pretensions of becoming a Kiwi barista. I can sometimes get the milk almost a little tiny bit like the Kiwi flat white, but it never quite works.
Want to try it out for yourself? Check out thisvideo and see how you fair:
Perhaps I should blame the British cows for not making the right type of milk, or perhaps I just need to keep that Kiwi vision in my head and hope that we emigrate sooner rather than later.
Photo by: Nick in exsilio
coffee. But not just any old coffee - you can get any old coffee from the vending machine in Cubicle Nation. Oh no! When I talk about coffee, I'm referring to a daily love affair of two - possibly three but never more - cups of properly made cappuccinos a day. I'm known amongst my circle of friends as a coffee snob. In fact, I think I may have even lost friends because of my coffee snobbery. There have been hints that, on my Fridays off (my "mummy days" when I try to catch up with other non Friday working mum and SAHM friends), I have not been invited to certain social events, as some think I'll turn my finely caffeinated nose up at their nescaff. They're right. I'd rather have a cup of builder's bum. And I really don't like tea much, except on the two occasions when I've been severely traumatised (childbirth x two) and then only with two sugars and lashings of sympathy.
The fact that I'm writing a blog post about coffee is testament to my love affair with the stuff. And yes, I do realise it's also testament to me being an anorak a l'extrème. But I console myself with the fact that I'm not the only one who has this strange but life-enhancing relationship with the bean of life. The New Zealanders are renowned for their love of coffee. For those in the know, New Zealand (and particularly Wellington) is the home of the best coffee in the world. It is one of the few countries in the world that imports its beans raw and roasts them locally, and, having drunk a fair few cups whilst I was down in the land of the long white cloud earlier this year, I believe that the Kiwis do make the best coffee in the world.
Whilst I was in New Zealand, I was introduced to the "flat white", which is best described as half way between a Cafe Latte and a Cappuccino. It is crafted by the Kiwis with loving care, and there is a standing joke that it takes 20 minutes to get your coffee. But boy, is it worth the wait! There is a particular texture in an impeccably crafted flat white that brings out the flavour of the coffee and gives the partnership of espresso and milk the same sort of divinity as peaches and cream or strawberries and champagne.
The trip to New Zealand was a reccie trip to see if we wanted to move there. Yes I do, because I simply can't contemplate living the rest of my life without access to Kiwi flat whites. My work shifting vision is firmly in Wellington, my dream house a mere hop away from flat white heaven.
Back from New Zealand, the withdrawal symptoms were so bad that I bought myself a new coffee machine, a bona fide tax deductible business expense as a happy bonus and a great excuse - as if I'd needed one.
New machine all set up, I went onto YouTube to find out how to make a flat white, only to discover after several failed attempts, that those darned Kiwis make it look far easier than it actually is. My new machine is a good one, and it makes a jolly good espresso, but alas, the skill is in she who crafts the coffee, and she is a mere amateur with pretensions of becoming a Kiwi barista. I can sometimes get the milk almost a little tiny bit like the Kiwi flat white, but it never quite works.
Want to try it out for yourself? Check out this
Perhaps I should blame the British cows for not making the right type of milk, or perhaps I just need to keep that Kiwi vision in my head and hope that we emigrate sooner rather than later.
Photo by: Nick in exsilio
