You Think You Know Coffee But You Don't Know Jack

Do you remember the smell of coffee in the morning? Its gentle pull easing you into the waking world? The subtle tastes on your palate? Well forget everything you know. Vietnamese coffee is a whole different ballgame. In fact, it's not a game at all. Seriously, these people are not playing around. Coffee was introduced to Vietnam by the French. The Vietnamese took to it instantly, but in typical Vietnamese fashion, they said "Hey guys, I really like what you've got here with this whole coffee thing, but what if we..." And then they proceeded to stomp all over French coffee. They triple distilled it until one ounce equaled an American coffee. They added condensed milk to quintuple the sugar content. They made it better, faster, stronger.

American coffee is your high school varsity soccer coach, giving you that pep talk to get you off the bench and playing your best. Vietnamese coffee is the neighborhood tough guy, punching you in the gut then saying "Hey, biotch, that all you got?! Get up, NOW!!" And so you spend the rest of the day with your limbs constantly twitching. Not so much a race car put into high gear, but more a puppet being yanked around by strings. American coffee drinker, meet Vietnamese coffee. His name is Jack.

Comments

xyzproductions said…

or trung nguyen.... [drool] only maybe the best stuff *ever*!

May 4, 2008 at 11:10 PM

How To Climb a Mountain in Six Easy Steps

This post is dedicated to EC, to whom I promised to tell this story. Hike Fuji! Step 1: Skip the Planning The beauty of Fuji It's one of the curious dichotomies of life that often, the harder you hold onto something, the more likely it will slip your grasp. Hearts have been broken by this age-old rule. Fortunes squandered. Kingdoms lost. Sometimes, you need to let go. Sometimes, you need to say "to Hell with planning" and just let things happen. Our story today comes courtesy of yesterday. Or yesteryear, rather. August in the late 90's tucked somewhere between the trial of O.J. Simpson and the Monica Lewinsky scandal. I was visiting my college friend John who was stationed at the U.S. Naval Base at Yokosuka, south of Tokyo. After an interesting visit of Tokyo involving coffin hotels and irritating Yakuza at the onsen , we planned to climb Mt. Fuji on my last weekend before going home. ...

Front Row Seats to the Saigon Ballet

Entrée Typical Saigon traffic On a cool Saigon night, the corps de ballet lines up behind me. Five wide and three deep, they wait for the light to change. To my left, a trendy Vietnamese teen rides her vintage Vespa. To my right, a smartly clad office worker in a business suit sits atop her gleaming new Yamaha Nouvo. These, my lead ballerinas , stand with me at the front of the corps . As the red light counts down, the dancers rev their engines in anticipation. Green light and the dancers all pounce forward in a grand jeté . The wind blows in my face as I savor the beauty of the dance. Ahead, a pedestrian blocks our way - a rock in the stream - but we adjust without the slightest hesitation. I weave right. Vespa girl weaves left. As my alley approaches and I prepare for my coda , I look to my right and give a small nod to Yamaha girl - great performance, see you again at the 7 o'clock show . She looks at me as though I'm crazy. And... she's right. I am completely and ho...

You Try Coming Up With a Title For This One

For the last month, my home has been a small, modest room in Saigon's backpacker district. Dirty walls and a small bathroom. Curtains in a brown that hasn't been fashionable since the 70's. It's not a place you'd want your mother to know you're living, but it's cheap and it's not all bad. It's a room with a view, and then some. From my window, you can watch the Saigon circus parade by every night. The streets are full of Western tourists and the menagerie that follows wherever they go: peddlers and prostitutes. It's certainly not a dull neighborhood. Nor is it a quiet neighborhood. With several bars within one block, I am treated nightly to the sounds of Guns & Roses, Shakira and imported American pop culture. So it's not much surprise when I'm woken at 4am by the sounds of Dixie Jazz. Peddlers play Christmas music from their carts, why not Dixie jazz? Just ignore it, go back to sleep. But the volume keeps getting louder a...

Mopeds & Miracles

Search This Blog