The Extra Shot

I think we all knew it was coming to this.

And frankly, I’m relieved.

mmm.

When Nick and Andy came to town, we attempted to hit all of the coffee-selling establishments and rate their brewed coffee, atmosphere and espresso shots. The results were so disappointing that I won’t bother to post them.

So where can you go to get good coffee around here?

One option: Marquette, MI.

Analog.

Analog is the word that I would use to describe Dead River Coffee.
From the could-be-in-an-antique store scales to the faded rugs and the friendly roaster who still prefers to roast according to flame heights, this place is a definite anachronism. I had two cups of coffee from East Asia while I was there: a Monsooned Malbar and a Sumatra Manhelding, both brewed through an “Aero Press.” They were both incredible.

Is it wrong to want to move to a city just because you found an amazing coffee shop? It is? What if they get their green from one of the better importers out there? What if it’s obvious that they don’t take seriously anything that isn’t coffee or people?

There was a “National Audubon Society Field Guide to Insects and Spiders” sitting on the adjacent table. I imagine it was there because somebody else was reading it. And I think that’s pretty rare. Ella’s infamous butchery of “Mack the Knife” was playing out of an old stereo in the corner.

But the part of this store that I love most of all is this: there’s not really any walls. Espressoland, the People’s Republic of Roaster and Cash Register Heights are all free for you just to wander into, no passport required. I had to leave before I went AWOL just over a cup of bean soup.

I met a couple of college kids, Mia and Matt, who seem to spend their days thinking, which is something of a rarity these days. It was good being around nerds who know that “nerd” isn’t derisive.

So. Here’s the numbers:
Coords: N 46 32.4442′ W 087 23.6354′
Coffee: A solid 9. Small-batch roasted on-site, not afraid to hold a roast back to “cinnamon” if it gets you the best cup.
Espresso: 6. I really wanted to like it, but if you’ve ever chewed on a coffee bean, the gross tannic taste that makes the experience un-delicious was in my doppio.
Atmosphere: Just the shop: 9. Include the town: 11. Seriously, this place felt like Boulder or something. Bikers everywhere, legit multi-use paths (not just paint-designated shoulders), farmers’ markets and cute shops. And a massive lake.

Images:

Oh, and I also got a kayak. Details in the alt-text.

From Camping with Nick & Andy:

From Open Mic night at Brother’s:

While this morning began somewhat drizzlesome, once training concluded and I was allowed to leave, it turned into a legitimate spring day!  Furthermore, yesterday I splurged on a plastic Adirondack chair at Ace Hardware.  Having a beautiful view with no place to sit is dumb.

Here’s some pictures.

As I was sitting outside, our 47′ MLB was on a training run.  She’s a beaut.

I also played around with HDR for a bit, but that one’s not ready yet.

Peace!

-Marc

Today, I had the good fortune to speak with two close friends from Peoria. I also decided to write a letter to a third while on a walk down by the lake. And, as is often the case, the motions of walking and writing and skipping rocks turned me to thinking.

Much of what I say on here (imagine for a moment that I say much on here), and much of what I read on other people’s blogs and internet journals is content that previously could be found in letters to one another.  How is life?  What have you been doing?  What new thoughts have crossed your brain?  So why do I blog now instead of write letters (imagine for a moment that I once wrote letters regularly)?

brb, getting pizza.

Right.  So perhaps the burden of having so many wonderful people now so far away that I want to stay so close to has compelled me to trade the precision of individual letters for the shotgun blog approach.  “But Marc,” you say, “You haven’t been doing either!” to which I reply:

silence!

That’s my internal theory, but I also have to admit seeing this happen on a larger scale.  With the means at our fingertips as never before, we spew information on our lives out into the ether, trusting that someone who values us will pick it up and know us better for it.  So then why didn’t we just contact that person directly?

Maybe we’re scared.

I know I am.  I’m scared of what burdening someone with knowledge of my life will do to our friendship.  If I shout “Help!” into the ‘nethers of the internets, there is no obligation to any recipient to render any help.  But if I send it in a letter, then a reply of some kind is fairly demanded.  And I think it’s sort of sad that we don’t give each other the opportunity to respond and join in with each others’ needs and victories as much as we could.

So I’m going to try to send more letters about the real stuff and blog more about the day-to-day stuff.  Like what it’s like to ride in a boat going really fast or get the radio call when somebody needs help.

Bye for now.