Roasting Coffee from Home
Roasting your ouwn coffee might be challenging, but our contributor Beau Cleveland-Copeman thinks it's absolutely worth it.
Beau Cleveland-Copeman
Coffee With the Traitors’ Club
It was just another weekend for them, but as laughter rippled down the tables, a lump swelled in my throat. I forced a smile and circled my coffee cup with a finger, lost in thoughts of when I had last shared such a moment with friends. I thought back to the Saturday night pre-drinks. The summer BBQs that burnt holes in the night sky. The long walks home to the ferocious tune of Jeff Beck. All then as vivid as the haze of smoke above me.
Everything Matters and I Don’t Know Why
When my father palmed me a copy of On The Road he said, “I don’t know why, but I think you’re going to like this.”
Whether he thought it would change my life or not, I don’t know. But I like to think he knew what he was doing, because until that point I hadn’t thought much of reading or writing, and I’ve been writing ever since.
Words. Workouts. And Wellbeing.
Exercise is something I’ve always avoided. I’ve put it down to wanting more time to write. To be-
ing self aware. “I’m just not that guy who exercises.” But after flirting with exercise over recent
months, I’ve been forced to reconsider.
Unfortunately, I’ve found my writing is more productive after a workout. I’m more engaged in the
process after a cold shower. And I can write for longer if I limit myself to black coffee and clean
food.
Things I Learnt Working in Coffee Shops
Coffee shops are micro climates. With layers and revolving doors that see people from all warps of life come and go. Coffee shops — much like galleries, museums and restaurants — are a good reason to go somewhere. They resemble culture, craft and community.
Below the blue. Above the grain. Between the sticks.
It’s a peace that I haven’t experienced in some time. Not since I lived on the farm, deep in the roots of the English countryside. Encompassed by the dry, sun-drenched odour of the earth. Moved only by the breeze that carries the promise of a summer harvest. Serenaded by the background sound of nature.
Signed, Stamped and Delivered: The Lost Art of Postcards
From under our noses, life becomes complicated — full of obligation and duty to ‘get by’, or if we’re so inclined, make something of ourselves. I’m guilty of it as much as the next man. And only now that time has slowed a little am I able to feel the chasm of time, space, and touch between me and my brothers. So, I’ve started to write postcards again. Signed, stamped, and delivered from one corner of the earth to another. It’s a lost art, really, like patience. Yes, it would be easier to text, but it’s not enough.
The Goodness of Man – As Judged by an Ego and the Books He Reads
en it comes to choosing the next book to read, I’m plagued by something P. J. O’Rourke said. His words? “Always read stuff that will make you look good if you die in the middle of it.”
Notes of Liquid Gold
Dialling in a new bag of coffee can lead to a lot of waste. When I worked at a coffee shop — while it was never good to waste coffee — it didn’t seem as catastrophic as it does now. The bags of coffee were bigger. The bank account wasn’t mine. And I had time to really dial in and nail it. Now, I rarely have time to make two coffees a day. So sometimes it’s a solid week before I get a coffee to a point I’m happy with.
Regaining the Rhythm, the Melody, the Mood
Taylor Swift made it onto my top five artists on Spotify last year. Now, let the record state that I do like some of her music. Just nowhere near as much as my girlfriend. But, watching her sing and dance to Taylor Swift in the car is a magical thing and I’m weak for these moments. So, whenever she suggests a bit of “T-Swizzle,” I’m game.