---

Consider this:

If This Isn’t The Best Cup Of Coffee I’ve Ever Had, I Want A Divorce

(This essay originally appeared in the Marin Independent Journal)

For the past few weeks, my husband has been on a quest to make the best cup of coffee this side of the equator (the actual equator, not the coffee shop in my downtown Mill Valley). He’s on a mission to buy a coffee machine that will brew java so delicious he’ll bound out of bed an hour before the alarm buzzes just to savor his steaming breakfast beverage. As a result, he’s been measuring, weighing, pouring, calculating, calibrating and tracking water and beans like a mad man.

Or, more accurately, like a Libra. Are you a Libra? Do you know a Libra? If you answered yes, then you, like my Libran husband, understand that one cannot accurately assess a coffee machine based simply on the taste of the coffee it produces. Oh no. You, like my husband, realize this is a highly complex matter requiring complicated spreadsheets, in-depth analysis of Consumer Reports and back issues of America’s Test Kitchen and copious online research including diving deep into the bottomless pit of reviews and ratings from equally avid (and, I assume, Libran) coffee drinkers around the globe.

Did I mention that I am not a Libra?

I am an Aries, which I believe is officially the opposite of a Libra.

Perhaps you, like my husband, understand professional-grade comparison shopping involves testing equipment. Lots of equipment. I can’t remember what my kitchen counter looks like because it is obscured by a seemingly endless display of shiny coffee machines in assorted shapes and sizes, all designed to grind beans smoother than sand, boil water to the optimal temperature range of 195 to 205 degrees Fahrenheit and prepare your morning joe to the exact GMT-calibrated second. Also laid out on the counter: a NASA-tested kitchen scale for weighing the beans, a NOAA-tested thermometer for double-checking the machines’ built-in thermometers, a grinder to accurately compare manual vs. automated grinds and, of course, many, many cups of coffee.

After seventeen years of marriage, I am very familiar with my Libran’s laborious, Excel-spreadsheet-driven approach to making a big purchase (or a big decision). It stands in extremely stark contrast to the decision-making strategy of an Aries gal like myself. My approach can be summed up in four syllables: Like it? Buy it. So I’ve been going a little nuts as I watch my husband carefully, precisely and v-e-r-y thoughtfully sip from one steaming mug, swallow, and then rinse his palate with a swig of water before moving onto the next cup.

“How does it taste?” I demand, exasperated by all this methodical sipping and spitting. “For God’s sake, which cup do you like best?”

My husband answers by way of a Ted Talk-worthy lecture about the Rules Of Making Coffee. He mentions water temperature, grind texture, extraction rate, flow rate, water-to-bean ratios and the properties of water absorption before I leave the room.

Did I mention I don’t drink coffee?

I’m a tea drinker, which I believe is officially the opposite of a coffee drinker.

But I’m also my husband’s wife. Despite the title of this essay, I promised to stand by my man, no matter what. So today, while he painstakingly ponders the all-consuming Coffee Machine Dilemma, I’ll make room on the counter for yet another high-tech brewer and say sure, babe. Pour me a cup of joe.

---

Cook this:

Really Yummy Chocolate Chip Banana Bread That Happens To Be Gluten Free

This week’s recipe comes courtesy of Running With Spoons, which is a great resource for interesting, interesting, tasty and often healthful recipes. I found this one in the gluten-free section, and the bread is simple to make and yummy to eat. I use this recipe for both bread and muffins by simply adjusting the cooking time (and the pan, obviously). Mini-muffins are usually done in about 12-13 minutes, full-size muffins take 15-20 minutes and a loaf of bread is more like 45 minutes.

Chocolate Chip Banana Bread (GF)

3/4 cup oats

2 medium, ripe bananas (about 1 cup mashed)

1/4 cup nut or seed butter

2 large eggs

1/4 cup brown sugar or coconut palm sugar

1 tsp baking powder

1/2 tsp baking soda

1/4 tsp sea salt

1/2 tsp ground cinnamon

1 tsp vanilla extract

1/2 cup chocolate chips

Preheat oven to 350 degrees Fahrenheit. Lightly grease your muffin tin or a 9 x 5-inch bread pan or line it with parchment paper. Leave a few inches of overhang for easy removal. Set aside.

Add the oats to the bowl of a high-speed blender or food processor and process on high until they’ve broken down into a fine powder, about 2 minutes. Add all the remaining ingredients except for the chocolate chips and continue processing until the batter is smooth and creamy, about 2 minutes. Fold in the chocolate chips by hand.

Pour the batter into your prepared pan, spreading it out evenly and topping with a few more chocolate chips, if desired.

Bake for 45­50 minutes (see my note above about cooking times), until the top of the loaf begins to turn golden brown and a toothpick inserted into the center comes out clean. Allow the loaf to cool in the pan for about 5 minutes before removing. Store in an airtight container for up to 5 days, or freeze for up to 3 months.

---

Read this:

The Sage of Waterloo by Leona Francombe

This week’s book review comes all the way from my sister, Amber Older, in Auckland, New Zealand. A friend of hers randomly picked up The Sage of Waterloo at the local library. He raved about it, so she checked it out – and loved it just as much. Here’s what Amber has to say about this fascinating book:

I’ve been captivated by a short (218 pages), small (5×7 inches) “historical meditation” (my term) called The Sage of Waterloo. The novel recalls, reexamines and relives the fateful, blood-filled day of June 17-18, 1815, when the first shots of the Battle of Waterloo were fired at Hougoumont, a Belgian farmstead near the forsaken battleground. More than 6,000 men died over the course of that day, due in no small part to Napoleon’s myopic and lethally misguided vision of power. But this is no ordinary recounting of history. This tale is told through the eyes (not to mention the highly-sensitive ears and feet) of William, a white rabbit who was raised at Hougoumont two hundred years after the bloody battle. With lyricism that no doubt reflects the author’s other profession as a concert pianist, Leona Francombe skillfully conducts two quite different scores: a “symphony of hell” that brings to terrifying life the ravages of war caused by the hubris of power-hungry men and a quiet yet powerful incantation on how to seek, and find, peace in a post-war world. As imparted by Old Lavender, William’s sagacious and supernaturally inclined grandmother, “A place of great conflict should bring on great reflection. If it doesn’t, all might well have happened in vain.” It’s not often you read a book that feels simultaneously earthy and ethereal; perhaps history should always be retold by a herd of erudite bunnies.

Want to see and hear more of Hougoumont? Click here