incogkneeto.com blog

For a long while I have intended to make daily entries documenting the best parts of the days, to help jostle me into writing again and just because. What a pleasant thing to have a written chronicle of.

The best part of today was tied between two beverages: the first, chronologically, being a con panna Andrew insisted upon me, unlike any other con panna I’ve had - he used one of those skanky little vibrating frothers to thicken (unsweetened) whipping cream, then dolloped it into a shot. It drifted between the liquid and the crema. It was really divine. I was totally opposed at first, because I do have a cavity of a weak spot for the American con panna, but my perspective flip-flopped quickly and I have a new love. Then, I had to make new whipped cream because we do serve it (for now) and I made it supersweet and Mariah had leftover hot chocolate steamed up (dark) so I combined them and blissed out for a while.

it is the purity of the succulence of the con panna vs. the intense instant gratification of spooning sweet whipped cream into my gawking gabber to be washed down by deep dark liquid chocolate. They weigh pretty evenly.

There is a staff meeting on Monday to discuss the menu, and such things as whipped cream, decaf beans, Monin syrups and skim milk are on the table to be considered for pushing off. It’s exhilaratingly ballsy to think of, and I fantasize that customers would be appalled only momentarily and only because their conventions are being shaken. Our motivation is of course to offer them only the best product we can, in good faith and spirits, not to be just another decaf-vanilla-raspberry-2-percent latte java hut. I think as long as we are all well educated and articulate about it, it could work. Anyway, obviously these thoughts are all better suited to the meeting than the blog :)

Some people have simple things to do expensive things with. Some people have expensive things to do simple things with.

The sky was a cellulite blanket as I walked home from my unsuccessful - but I did find the most adorable plaid button-up shirt, the first plaid thing I’ve owned in years - boot hunt this afternoon. It was lovely. Today was cold and rainy, and, due to the cold, instead of calming them the rain made all the people rush to get to warm places. You have to be very careful.

Calgary Transit’s buses all displayed at least one Poetry in Motion banner, which would promote the art with a small section of some influential poet’s words. The other day I saw such a banner on a Metro Transit bus and nearly cried with nostalgic glee. It said:

Don’t go outside to see flowers.
My friend, don’t bother with that excursion.
Inside your body there are flowers.
One flower has a thousand petals.
That will do for a place to sit.
Sitting there you will have a glimpse of beauty
inside the body and out of it,
before gardens and after gardens.

It is very much like my favourite Rumi poem, which is probably indeed my favourite poem, which goes:

Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing
there is a field. I’ll meet you there.

When the soul lies down in that grass,
the world is too full to talk about.
Ideas, language - even the phrase “each other” doesn’t make any sense.

Hence such glee at reading.

We are nearly all moved in :) Daniel did a wicked job of unpacking last night. He organizes a mean bookshelf, utulizing his clever utilitarianism with stacks of books for bookends. I’m good with closets.

Going to swing up downtown while Daniel does musical errands in preparation for a recording tomorrow, then prepare our dinner which is Heidi’s slurptastic herb noodles. (I have chopped up the herbs and oh man, I just want to make a cilantro hand lotion or something!!) Daniel’s friend Nate is celebrating his 25th birthday tonight. I’ve never attended a party with a keg in attendance too, so add that to the list of growing-up milestones passed. I work tomorrow and begin training on milk this week! Very excited to work with the Synesso; its steam wand is particularly phallic.

I picked up two yards of incredible organic cotton sherpa to make some cozy winter pants, and have to get around to that soon because it ain’t too warm out yet when I catch my first bus at 5:40!

Yesterday I was hired by Andrew Kopplin of Kopplin’s Coffee and today I begin training!

This is very exciting. These people are so passionate about coffee and a slower, more cherishing and absorbent lifestyle, and learning. So am I. Things seem to finally be settling into place. I have been here working on that for a year and a half.

I am trying out Misti Alpaca’s laceweight yarn and spanking myself for avoiding it for so long just because it is two-ply. Well, I have since learned the secret follies of seemingly elegant one-ply (it half-felts!). I have this stuff in a baby grey-blue colour that just screams “lace!!” to me. It’s the same colour I first saw lace crochet work in.

I also picked up some flesh-coloured Louet Kidlin (”doeskin” I guess) and a ball of Noro’s new psychedelic “Hotaru” yarn in the red-purple-orange colourway. I have NO idea what to do with that yet but I know it knows exactly what it wants to be!

I also need to get to work on a commission, but this alpaca is just too fun! Well, I will tire of it eventually.

Early yesterday morning I goaded Daniel over to the Dunn Bros across the street, because there is such a special feeling early Saturday morning. It could be my favourite time.

I was happy to entertain one of many subjects that sprung up for confabulation: meditation. Quieting the mind, as I like to approach it. I said we should do it right now. So after entertaining each other about how our relationship has become a joint stream of consciousness, we did.

Maybe like half a minute in, I remembered something I’ve been trying to remember about Saturday mornings for months, almost years. “Want to go to the farmer’s market?” I blurted. “Yes,” Dan said.

Sweeping away all those noisy, distracting thoughts-about-what-I-already-know, I found a hidden reminder waiting quietly underneath. Hidden too well, as those things are.

We did return with a quart of maple syrup and a lead on some yummy hummus, to follow next weekend with more cash on hand.

Good old quieting-the-mind, can you solve my debilitating memory problems?

The May Day Cafe in south Minneapolis tragically has no website I can link you to, so maybe I will have to make them one myself :)

I don’t remember where I first read about the May Day cafe - a newspaper or the Best of the Twin Cities (I no longer have copies of either) - but what I read impressed me: the May Day creates perfectly sweet, positively chewy lattes with homemade caramel. Not the pumped hyper-preserved bottled diabetic seizure, be it by mainstream Torani or upstream Monin. No - caramel made in a pan in the kitchen behind the espresso machine, pulled and squeeze-bottled before it reaches wax paper-wrappability stiffness. Always one to go out of my way for a new coffeeshop, especially one with raving reviews, I took the opportunity after lunch with Daniel yesterday to visit the May Day. And granted, this is written after spending about four hours there, so it’s a little early. But I am excited.

The May Day has been added to the currently mental list of dining places that visitors to the Twin Cities should not miss, which includes such gems as the Birchwood cafe and, strictly atmospherically, the Kitty Kat Klub, as well as the tiny list of really good coffeeshops. (for coffee: Kopplin’s. for decibal atmosphere: Cahoots. for nostalgia, and a good-sized bike ride to and fro: Dinkytown’s Espresso Royale.)

First of all, the approach. The May Day Cafe begins as a sign half-visible a block away, but from its bright colours you know you’ve found it. Then it unveils itself from behind cozy houses and tree branches as a textured, incredibly inviting blue cabin that feels like an eclectic discovery on a rural British Columbian or Californian harbour. I was awash with memories of Nelson, Victoria, Vancouver etc. I thought of the shop in California where I traded for money a divine concoction that was blended vanilla ice cream and espresso. The kind of tiny find that really has to be found, it isn’t common knowledge and it won’t be seen advertising in any newspapers (although I have now found a coupon for it in the Blue Sky Guide, which of all advertising venues I am most happy to see it using), but has the most delicious secrets you will regret having lived sort of miserably in new land for over a year for without yet knowing.

It is somewhat larger inside than it appears from the outside, but seating space could really be used more effectively. It is cafeteria-like, and it is a good thing that the clientele was comfortable enough to squish in like family though often strangers, but it would be good to incorporate diversity: some two-toppers for the most common customers: one or two people, couches, booths would be really spatially effective on the left between the bathroom and the counter. It is really currently arranged to host a few large groups. And it was fine. And it is doing very well with this as easily my biggest qualm. Also, an amount of space reserved for preparatory and employees twice the size of customer seating is visible, which I bet could be opened up to customers very well, like we are doing where I work now.

Counter servers were sweet, funny, and the diversity of age and gender I dream of my co-workers being, ranging from male and female about my age to male and female with white hair. I am really sick of working solely with other pretty twenty-ish females, and also only seeing them in coffeeshops. A coffeeshop that employs a variety of people has already guaranteed my return.

I did order the caramel latte (prepared very carefully by a male my age) and it was slightly sweet and chewy and perfect. Caramel, aka scorched sweetness and coffee is one of my very favourite flavour combinations, along with passionfruit and chocolate. I was so intrigued by the delicacy of the espresso flavour that I had to order one alone, despite that I had only yet consumed a mango, two eggs and two slices of toast all day by four o’clock, and I need a little more than that to not end up hyperventilating when caffeine is taken. So I also had a green salad, whose dressing was described by the grandmotherly lady sitting next to me with her toddler “friends”, not even her own blood kin, on a playdate, as “drinkable by the cup”. My espresso did not have much crema left by the time I sat down with it and my salad, which by the way together totaled like $4.45 for a salad serving the size we charge $6.95 alone for where I work, but it was indeed consumable ungarnished by any boob juice or burnt sweetness. A rare thing.

Clientele was very un-snobby, very low key, very friendly and unafraid of interacting with strangers. Also definitely alternative. Very unusual qualities to find all together in the city, a precious thing truly akin to the big-town harbour cafe that May Day feels like. Lots of bicyclists, even on the rainy day ;)

I also discovered, by leafing through local photographers’ greeting cards up for sale, the Mayday Parade hosted by the Heart of the Beast puppet theatre. Looks like a good time :)

I am taking Daniel to the May Day on Sunday, and looking forward to it.