Thursday, January 30, 2014

Fredericksburg Coffee Shops


I love coffee houses. I love the smell, the ambience, the fun of watching people come and go. I especially enjoy the free wifi when I have a few minutes to spare between meetings. I don’t go in for the syrupy, chocolaty, caramelized drinks that are so popular right now. I am usually a plain latte, plain coffee kind of girl.

I decided a few weeks ago to make it my mission to travel to and write about every coffee shop in Fredericksburg. I am not finished yet, but I have a pretty good start, and I will keep adding to this post as I visit more coffee stops.

My hope is that, if you ever find yourself in our beautiful and historic part of the world, you will stop in one of these delightful spaces, take a look around, inhale deeply the scent of coffee, and enjoy yourself for a few minutes before heading back to the hectic reality of normal life.

Blackstone Coffee
1113 Jefferson Davis Highway, Fredericksburg, VA
I have only been here once, but it’s already my new favorite coffee place. One of our dance students recommended it to me. I made a special trip to check it out, and immediately fell in love.

Blackstone is located across Route 1 (Jefferson Davis Highway) from Mary Washington University, in the Eagle Village shopping center. Blackstone roasts their own beans, and they also have a liquor license, so if you are looking to unwind at the end of the day, you can get a glass of cabernet and a sandwich. The sandwiches run the scope from standard to innovative. Unfortunately, they are all wheat-infested, so I can only admire the ingredients list and fantasize. Please, try one and tell me about them! The staff is very pleasant and makes an effort to converse with the customers. Blackstone features several comfy leather chairs, free wifi, and a pleasant, relaxing atmosphere.

But it’s all about the coffee: I had a plain latte here. It was delicious. It wasn’t bitter or burned-tasting, but a perfect balance of robustness and creamy milk. 

My espresso wizard went to the effort to make a beautiful foam heart on the top of my drink, but then he stirred it all away. I could understand if I had ordered a syrupy-sweet drink like a café mocha, in which the sugar sits at the bottom, making the top too bitter and the bottom too cloying, but this was just a plain-Jane latte, and I was sad to see the lovely heart melt into oblivion. It was still wonderful, and I look forward to going back again.

25° 30° Espresso
400 Princess Anne St., Fredericksburg, VA
http://lindyintheburg.blogspot.com/2014/01/fredericksburg-coffee-shops.html
This little shop is located across the street from the VRE/Amtrak station in Old Town Fredericksburg. It is right on the “other side” of the tracks from most of the shops in the Old Town area, and is very convenient if you are about to hop a train to Washington, Philly, or New York.

According to 25 30’s website, they only buy coffee from one roaster, Counter Culture Coffee, which works exclusively with a select group of farms and farmers. Their website also says they only buy milk from a local creamery in Pennsylvania.

Inside, the shop is warm and cozy with a sofa and a collection of tables. There are books, magazines and newspapers to pass the time if you need them. Although the space is inviting, it’s not overly decorated.

But how was the coffee? The latte was quite good, and I especially liked that on the topping bar (where you would find your sugars, straws and napkins) they offered shakers filled with cinnamon-sugar, mocha-sugar and nutmeg-sugar. Although I usually like everything plain and unsweetened, the addition of a dusting of slightly sweet cinnamon on top of the snowy white latte foam added just enough flavor to be charming without overwhelming.

25 30 also serves a variety of breakfast and lunch sandwiches, and they do have a variety of plastic-wrapped pastries. On one quick survey, I spied nothing that a gluten-free person could eat, but I am sure if you asked, they could procure an apple or a banana for you.

Hyperion Espresso
301 William St., Fredericksburg
http://www.hyperionespresso.com
My daughter, 17, describes Hyperion as a “total hipster” place to go. I am  not really sure what she means by that, but every time I go to Hyperion, I see a wide range of people inside and outside, if the weather is nice. As far as people-watching, this is probably one of the best spots in Fredericksburg. Hyperion is located right on one of the busiest corners in town, so if you sit outside, you can watch an endless parade of humanity. Inside the shop is nearly as busy, with everyone from college students to bankers, and the kind of people who wear hemp sandals in January.

The interior is not glossy and it doesn’t exude the feeling “I was designed by an interior decorator,” although maybe it was. But it is everything it needs to be. The interior colors are warm. There are plenty of seats. In fact, this shop takes up two store fronts, so there are two distinct areas where you can park and chat, peruse the paper or use the wifi. There is one enormous wooden table right in front of the large picture window facing the street. This is my favorite spot, because it’s the best of both people-watching worlds, but it is usually taken. I also enjoy the group of comfy well-used chairs near the other window.

And there is just something about the coffee that I love. They do something amazing with their lattes. When you open the cup (or if you are staying in, they give you a real ceramic cup), the barista has created a beautiful leaf design that makes it almost too pretty to drink. But of course, you must drink it. And the milk they use reminds me of when I was a child, and we used to scald milk on the stove to make hot chocolate.

I do enjoy Hyperion’s plain coffee, but the latte is so pretty I find it hard to resist. They also make a delicious smoothie, and their iced coffee drinks are wonderful in the summertime.

Some people have told me that Hyperion’s espresso drinks are very high-caffeine. I have never experienced a bad caffeine reaction, but if you are sensitive, you may wish to ask, or order decaf/half-caff.

In the pastry case, they carry an assortment of wheaty treats. If you ever try them, you can tell me about them, and I will live vicariously through you.

Starbucks
http://www.starbucks.com
There isn’t much to say about Starbucks that you don’t already know, because the ubiquitous chain coffee store is the same everywhere in the world. I can tell you that there is one in the mall (Spotsylvania Town Center), one across the street from the mall, one in the Central Park Shopping Center, and one on Plank Rd. (Route 3). The Plank Rd. Starbucks is my most-frequent shop because it’s on the way to Old Town, is open 24 hours, and has a drive-through.

My husband is wild about Starbuck’s mochas, so between the two of us, we know the locations of just about every Starbucks in the Northern Virginia area, and about the ones that are located along the route from Virginia to Florida. And the one in Nassau, Bahamas. No, we don’t have a coffee problem…




Tuesday, January 28, 2014

Gluten-free pancakes


Gluten-free pancakes with peanut butter and maple syrup
People who know my love for breakfast carbohydrates, and especially for post-dance pancakes, often ask which gluten-free pancake and waffle mix I use. My personal preference is to never use a GF mix if I can avoid it. They are rather expensive considering you only get one use out of them, and I feel like I have no control over the ingredients. I prefer to work with a GF flour blend and use a traditional pancake/waffle recipe.


When I do this, my favorite flour blend is Bob’s Red Mill All-Purpose GF flour, because I feel that it substitutes fairly evenly for regular flour. Some of the other GF blends I’ve tried must have too much xanthan gum, because they get way too thick to pour, and I either have to remember to use less flour than the normal recipe calls for, or add more liquid at the end (which is undesirable because you are wasting the precious time during which the baking soda/powder is burning up its leavening action).

I have previously posted recipes for paleo pancakes and gluten-free waffles (which you can also use for pancakes), but here is another batter option.

This recipe serves two, and is what I prefer to use for late-night breakfasting. Sometimes I add in about a teaspoon unsweetened, dehydrated coconut for a more tropical flavor.

Add the dry ingredients to the wet
Blend together and set aside:
1 cup all-purpose gluten-free flour
1 tsp baking powder
½ tsp baking soda
¼ tsp salt
Sprinkling of cinnamon

In a large bowl, beat
2 eggs

Blend in to eggs
2 tsp sugar, honey, or agave nectar
2 tbs melted butter, coconut oil or vegetable oil
1 cup buttermilk (or a ½ cup plain yogurt + ½ cup milk)
¼ tsp gluten-free vanilla extract

Add the dry ingredients to the wet, stirring just long enough to mix together. Bake on a lightly greased griddle at 375-degrees, or in a skillet over medium-low heat. Turn each cake once, when the bubbles that pop on the top no longer refill.

Top as desired. I like mine with sliced bananas, agave nectar and chopped pecans. Or as in the picture above, with peanut butter and pure maple syrup.
Gluten-free batter, mixed and ready to pour
The large bubbles on the surface will
stay open when the pancake is ready to flip
Finished gluten-free pancake


Monday, January 27, 2014

The lies the grownups tell you


It’s not just parents, it’s teachers, dentists, ballet instructors—adults lie to kids all the time. For example, I remember a substitute teacher telling our accelerated class that if we didn’t study hard, we would end up working as poor, starving cosmetologists. I know plenty of kids who worked hard and went to college just so they could drop out halfway through to follow their passion and become professional hair stylists. And they happen to be doing quite well for themselves.

Another lie was that your grades actually matter once you get out of college. This isn’t really accurate. You need good grades to get into a college. Then you need them to get into grad school and a first job. Beyond that, no one ever looks at your GPA again.

And don’t get me started on that whole Santa thing.

But all these little falsehoods pale next to the Big One. Every family has its own. The Big Lie in my childhood was that people will never like you, and you will never be successful in life, if you have bad table manners. In retrospect, I understand. My Dad came from a coal mining family, and through hard work and a lot of brains, he became an Air Force Officer. My mother was one of eight kids growing up during the Depression, her father was a day laborer, and as a child, she sold tamales to soldiers passing by on trains. During the course of their lives, my parents had to adjust to a new social circle and a new set of rules. So I understand that they wanted their children feel comfortable in a middle-class world, so that no one would ever have to point out which fork we should be using for the salad and which for the shrimp.
 
I have to admit that, as an adult, I have had many other adults tell me I have the best table manners they’ve ever seen. Weirdos in bars have actually offered to buy me food just so they could watch me eat. So it worked…but at what cost!  I actually believed that people would flee the cafeteria table or fire me from my future job if I ever chewed with my mouth open or slurped while drinking orange juice.

Under my parents’ careful eye, I became extremely self-conscious about eating in front of others, lest an elbow should stray onto the table. A good friend of our family’s once recalled of my childhood: “It was almost painful watching you eat.”

I was motivated. I wanted people to like me. I wanted success in life. To make those things happen, I thought I needed to cut my fried chicken into molecule-sized bits and eat them with knife and fork. Never did a dribble of sauce stain the corner of my mouth. It was inconceivable that a shred of lettuce might not comply with my effort to slip it into my mouth.

When stuff like that that happened to other kids in my neighborhood, my manners-conscious parents would say something that no one today would ever say, because we are aware of how hurtful and demeaning this word is, but this was long ago, and they would say, “He/she looks like a mentally challenged individual with all that tomato sauce on his/her face.”

Okay, they didn't say it like that, but I'm sensitive as well as self-conscious, and way they said it is just bad manners. But I digress. I was trying to explain the furnace of criticism in which my ways were formed.

You can imagine my utter disillusionment, then, when I was in sixth grade and Jennifer Jordan, the queen bee of my grade, (name changed to protect the bee) visited my home for a sleepover. We ate English-muffin pizzas in my living room (if you’ve never made these, you’re missing out. They are awesome).  My whole perception of reality faltered and shook as five other girls and I sat in a circle while Jennifer held court, eating her mini-pizza and smacking her lips like a rich white suburban barbarian, flashing partially masticated bits of muffin, sauce and cheese for all the world to see. It was impossible…how could she be admired, popular, socially successful, and have the worst table manners of all of us?

My whole definition of social order began to crumble. I was confused. I suppose the world had is justice eventually—Jennifer reigned supreme in high school, but eventually slipped out of favor, and although I am sure she is still beautiful, according to always-accurate Facebook, she appears to be a queen without a court at present.

Since then, I have met others with appalling eating habits. There was a boy I dated in college for a while. I was going through a difficult time. He was Navy ROTC, and well on his way to be an officer and fighter pilot in a few months’ time. We dated until the fateful day we ordered a pizza at my apartment. He picked up the enormous slices, folded the wedge in half, and bit off about half of it. Watching him eat reminded me of a Labrador—but dogs have a reason for eating like they do. They have no lips. I basically forgot to eat, watching him mangle the pizza like that. We broke up not long after. I could not imagine spending a lifetime sitting across the table from that horror.

As you can imagine, I am hyper aware of people’s eating styles. I once had an office across from a woman from Sierra Leone who was the loudest chewer I have ever heard. Since then, when I hear that volume of lip-smacking, I generally assume the perpetrator is an African immigrant, but that’s probably social profiling and I’m sure it’s wrong.

Well, I know it is wrong, because just last night I was eating dinner with my mother at a small family restaurant in a very affluent part of town. The guy behind mom was talking loudly about his son, who had decided his medical specialty would be anesthesiology. Apparently well-off, in my definition of the world, he should also eat with silver-plated behavior. Instead, he asked for ice in his red wine, and I had the benefit of seeing and hearing every bit of his enchiladas going down.

So, my youthful perceptions of the world were obviously flawed. My parents were wrong. You can rule the world and still eat like a dog. Am I planning to change my own ways? For better or worse, I really can’t. Sometimes, when I go wild, I do pick up a chicken wing with my hands, get sauce all over myself, and have to use about 45 napkins. I can only do it in front of people I’m already related to, like my kids or husband.

I don’t ride my kids as hard about table manners as my parents did. I don’t expect that any bar weirdos will ever offer to buy my daughter dinner so they can watch her eat—and surprisingly, I am A-ok with that. I think it’s a loss we all can handle.

Do I wish, sometimes, that they could all wield a fork with confidence? Of course. But I don’t worry about it too much, because I far too busy making them self-conscious about other behavior patterns. And some day my daughter will write an angry missive about how I tried to tell her exercise was essential to mental and physical health, and how she has been so much happier ever since she gave up walking in favor of the Segway.