One Beauty of Water

Dear Poppy,

I live in the eastern parts of Los Angeles where we're prone to triple digits. But when I go to the beach I end up wearing a jacket. Why is it cold at the beach when it's scorching at home?

signed,
Hot and irritable

Dear H.I.

It's hot in Los Angeles, no one will dismiss that!

If you live in the desert you complain of the heat. If you live in the tropics you complain of the humidity. Personally I'd rather live in dry heat. I think I can speak for everyone when I say that one is less irritable when they're not marinating in their own sweat. I'm less irritated when I'm not marinating in my own sweat.
But we both live in Southern California. We get the best of both worlds.

But answering your question is very simple (why can't you ask me a gay related question?!): water.
Water is a lovely substance. And you should be glad that the earth is hugged by a lot of it or else the temperature on this planet would be as hot as Venus. For you see, my baby, one of the unique beauties of water is that it has a very high specific heat. Simply put in this case is that water can absorb a lot of heat before its own temperature raises. It's the same principle to stepping into a puddle on a hot day. The puddle is far cooler than the concrete around it. And since coastal cities are, as the name implies, near the coast; the heat that they get gets absorbed by the body of water: the ocean.

But please, don't try to mock the cooling effects of the ocean by breaking the hydrants and flooding your neighborhood. There's already a water shortage.
Just deal with the valley/inland heat by buying an energy efficient air conditioner or go spend your time someplace where it's cooler (like the library or the mall).

Until next time!
Poppy C.U. Montage

You Gays Can Get Married Now (... nice!)

Gay Henchman runs into my room yesterday morning and hurls a newspaper at the foot of my bed. I chew my toast (because I always have my toast in bed) and look nonchallantly at the newspaper.
He's jumping around, an expression on his face that can easily shame a lotto winner.
"Aren't you glad?" he asks me, "I can get married now!"
I joke around to bruise ego. "That is if you have a man you can marry."
But he did not care for my comments, he was too happy of the California State Supreme Court ruling the gay marriage ban unconstitutional.

As he should. After all gays are a part of this society. If they want to contribute the the sky-rocketing divorce rate, I don't see why they shouldn't!

But I had to clarify Gay Henchman's understanding of the verdict. The law was nullified and declared unconstitutional. It's just simply saying that the state can't ban him from getting married to "a dude"... however there's no law that says he can either. The court can't legalize anything... only explain or justify. That's what the legislature is for.
But that shouldn't stop him from getting hitched Vegas style. After all this country was founded on setting various precedents. I say: why not get married while there's still dust in the air from this victory?

I do foresee this as the beginning of a new gay rights movement though as sexual orientation does encompass a myriad of issues that entangles race, gender, and class. For example can one gain citizenship from a gay marriage? Can gays now sue because the "don't ask don't tell" policy is a form of discrimination?

I sure am excited to live in this day of history!

Using Your Good Looks To Climb The Working Ladder

Dear Poppy

I'm a 23 y/o out of college starting my first professional job. I consider myself a hard worker but I don't think it’s a quality that will get me to better things. I also consider myself pretty attractive, a 10 out of 10! Should I put what God gave me to good use? Do you think it's okay for me to use my sexuality to get ahead?

signed,
Potentially Sexual


Dear Kinetic Horn-Tooter,
A ten, eh? Send me a pic, I'll be sure to find something wrong with ya!
Kidding.
My personal opinion is that people have the right to happily flaunt whatever they have regardless if they have it or not... given that they'd want to (as well as it not being considered a misdemeanor). But there is a time and place. However to that I will say that timing and placement are subjective! You don't seem to mind to shake what your momma gave you--and that's completely fine! just make sure you're the people's type.
But before you do, you should be aware that you're lookin' to

1) You want to be objectified. Everyone has a right to do what they wish... even if it's to set certain civil rights a few years back.

2) Actual Sex: You don't think with all that flaunting that the flaunted will just stop at the stares, right? It's human nature to look, then smell, then touch (and if they're kinky, taste!) Be prepared to be asked to be asked to put out for the executives, ho! But I'm sure you'll be okay with looking at your fine self in your soon-to-be corner office. Also beware: some of your superiors are married... and have money (who can afford to have you killed, j/k)

3) You want to be labeled as the "token wench": Your superiors (or whoever you're trying to attract) may like you, but your competitors won't. They will eat you like you're marinated in A1 Steak Sauce. Another thing is that it's kind of hard to be taken seriously once you've been barred as the company slut... and it's also hard to ditch the name (unless of course you suddenly became ugly the next day. But let's face it, I'm sure you look good in ANYTHING, right?). You may also want to think aboout what your current coworkers will say about you if you move onto a different job. People love to gossip, otherwise the gossip collumns would have gone bankrupt decades ago.

4) You want to come off as unprofessional: I have seen many good-looking critters out of a job because of this. There are many things one can do to come off as unprofessional. No matter what level, being a skank is one of them. Once you are viewed as unprofessional (on top of being the token wench) then it's EXTREMELY difficult to restore people's faith in your work ethic. You should also memorize the company's policy on sexual harassment. Chances are you will make a coworker uncomfortable (most likely one of the uglier ones) and they will report you. And people aren't as reserved as they were in the olden days. This is modern America. EVERYONE has opinions and gives them (even when it's not required).

And I'm not saying that the latter situations are guaranteed to happen. Many people do use their good traits to get ahead. Some of them succeed and get to the top. But there are also other ways. I'm glad you're a hard worker; I've never heard of one who doesn't advance. Well actually I have, but they never have the nerve to ask to be promoted. (If the latter still doesn't happen, then it's time to move to a different job because that my kiddies is called "exploitation"!)
For you, my darling, work hard and keep tooting your horn. It's probably better to be heard of your AND THEN seen. Yes, you'll annoy people but it's not as ethically conflicting!

Until Next Time,
Poppy C.U. Montage

Bad Day (Daniel Powter eat your heart out)

Bad Day (Daniel Powter eat your heart out!)

Today has been a cascading effect of misfortunes. Every person at least has one a year but I think in my case, and this being an optimistic view, I have a bad season. It just came as a shock to me that I had to declare this day a bad day half way around noon.

So what has happened to me you might ask? Well for started I was doing my finances today and I realize that I'm missing money. A LOT OF IT. I'm very good with tracking my finances, using not only various computer programs, but also keeping track of my green trail manually. After interrogating (as well as torturing) Gay Henchman and declaring him innocent of this crime, he helped me recount my finances of this month. "You're missing money. A lot of it," he redundantly concurred.

My plants suffered mass extinction. For some unknown reason insects and gastropods (snails and slugs) found my botanical haven to be the more appetizing than the surrounding neighborhoods and decided to have a buffet Packman style. Among the casualty is my favorite potted gardenia of which I have had for almost 10 years. There is slightly a silver lining to this: although most of my gardenia was found chewed up, a small portion of It remains untouched. Perhaps I can pay Gay Henchman for his green thumb. After all he is a budding botanist!
(he read it and said not just a no, but a "HELL no".)

My computer crashed. This happened roughly around the time Gay Henchman and I were outside observing the mass herbicide. Thanks to my Gay Computer Tech Support who advised me to always back up my files, I backed up my hard drive just about a week ago. The bad news to this week has been a productive week for me. I had written quite a few new things. My pile of things to edit had been diminished. But sad to say I must repeat all of that ordeal once more. I'd pay someone to do it, but apparently I'm missing money.

These series of demoralizing events makes me want to drink but I think I shall hold off on that. Drinking's for celebration and not to make the problems go away (with the exception of a family member). Sigh* looks like I just have to keep at it! Hell if this keeps up I'll be gunned down AND run over by a car by 10 PM!

On the bright side, I did buy a lottery ticket. This all maybe just prepaid Karma and that something good will come along in the near future. I mean after all I have been a good little Poppy Montage!

Until then,

Poppy C.U. Montage!

Okay So It's Not The Flower Fields of Carlsbad (but I think better)

Someday I Will Get Fired!

Good thing I have the option to work on this whenever I can otherwise I would get fired for my inability to commit to a deadline. But, like most of my time-rich things in my life, journalism is something I prefer to leave to the professionals.
… I’m Poppy Montage, who said anything about me being a professional?!

Unfortunately, due to an illness, I couldn't get to see the Carlsbad Flower Fields. That has been put off for the next peaked rainy season (which is probably the next election year). But this week I travel to the far corners of Los Angeles County to observe one of the most spectacular things a city dweller (like myself) can see. No the photo above you is not a product of Photoshop. There are many reasons why California is nicknamed “The Golden State.” There are two main reasons. The first is the discovery of gold in Northern California Mountains which sparked the Gold Rush. The California Poppy, evident from the picture above, is the second reason.

Botanically speaking the California Poppy wasn’t the only plant to make the landscapes of California golden; many of the state’s native perennial population aided. However, when Europeans settled in North America, much of the landscape was changed by invasive species. Brightly hued flora was replaced with golden brown. Unprotected hills to this day still turn gold, but they’re not as vivid and they are usually from grasses.

The area you are looking at now is a protected land in the Antelope Valley called the California Poppy Reserve. From downtown Los Angeles you’re looking at an hour and a half car ride, while the nearest city is Lancaster. If you’re into nature this is surely one event worth seeing!

Poppies bloom roughly from March through late May. The best time I would recommend is going to the reserve around mid to late April, as blooming is at peak and you will see the golden carpet of poppies as far as the eye can see. There are other plants that also bloom there such as an endangered fiddleneck that Gay Henchman almost stepped on. Occasionally as you walk around you will spot a white flower blooming in incongruity, usually a dahlia or a dandelion.

We arrived late in the afternoon. The reason why we left so late is because we wanted to avoid the deadly desert heat. Much to our surprise the temperature was actually very comfortable, offering gentle breezes and cloud filled skies. Now there are both a good side and a bad side to arriving at 5:15 in the afternoon. On the bad side we were unfortunate enough to arrive and find that the reserve had just closed for the day (Weekend hours are 10AM-5PM) Contrary to that, we were free to stop on the side of the road and venture off into the fields outside of the reserve.

It’s really breathtaking when you get there. Looking at this picture and enjoying it is one thing, but having to actually be physically there is another. No camera, no matter how well it is adjusted to a panoramic setting, will ever compare to actually being there.


Okay, just because we took the less taken paths to the poppies, it wasn’t necessarily legal. The Golden Poppy is protected by three governments and if you were caught I understood you could be facing heavy fines and possible jail time. (It’s weird because what will the other inmates think of you when you went to jail for stepping on flowers?! You’ll become someone’s bitch by the end of that hour!) Local authorities do periodically patrol outside of the reserve for people who do get out of their cars and take pictures. Fortunately we had already finished looking around and was about to leave when they passed by us. After some brief discussion about how delicate this ecosystem was, we managed to convince them that we barely arrived.

But Gay Henchman did some frolicking. I think that’s allowed. After all he is a homosexual. I think it’s a requirement for them to frolic when they come across this certain landscape. It would violate all laws of homosexuality if he didn’t.

We're So Starving...

For those of you Panic at The Disco fanatics, you will know everything from the title. If you’re anything like me—whose level of familiarity with the band is via overhearing their well-orchestrated singing from another (in my case is Gay Henchman)—then you may need a little more explaining. But to save myself the time, you should go ahead and Google the lyrics. Go on, my bunnies. Get!

Or if you’re anything like my Uncle Stewie, who loathes being directed by a stranger, let me go ahead and give you the gist. It's a short song, pretty much with the lyrics:
Oh how it's been so long
We're so sorry we've been gone.
We were writing songs for you.
You don't have to worry because we're still the same

I chose the song because it seems somewhat fitting to the long awaited return of habitual blogging. Also after hearing it play many times from Gay Henchman (I think this was deliberate) it got stuck in my head and possibly might be the only way to make it go away. But yes, I was gone for the month. I miss you all. Now I am back. Like before of brand new? Well you be the judge….
Tada!

Three words will describe the crux of why I have been gone for the month of April: I am sick. When dear Ol’ Poppy meets a virus, they apparently get to know each other very well. This relationship has extended to the point where my life was put in jeopardy; although, histrionics aside, I do admit that my capacity of energy has diminished thus preventing me from blogging. And very much like the deep understanding of the gay community, this bad bug was introduced to me by my very own henchman.

But no matter as he has been so kind enough to dedicate his time to fulfilling all my chores and errands (with the promise to get paid of course, after all who in this society wants to work for me for free?!). And let me once again state to the viewers what an awesome find Gay Henchman has been for me! So I thank him once again.

Just because I had taken a break from blogging in the month of April, that doesn’t mean that the constant moving modules of my life were shifted to a stagnant state. Indeed it sure felt that way at times, but I fought. Perhaps it was of perfunctory effort, but effort to rebel against the stagnation nonetheless. But I chose to take a break from writing overall. Instead I took to the streets and walked around, meandering optimistically (the medicine could also be a possible source of “giddiness”) in hopes to find an adventure.

And I did. Not only did many side adventures happened, but also the traditions of April that I sowed and followed many years back. For one thing, my Volunteer Season has begun. As the name implies, it’s the time of the year where I start to do more volunteering for the community. These acts would also follow on several festivities which I try to take part of. For example the Earth Day festivals that goes on in several parts of the county. Sadly I have to report that I could not make it to one of my traditions due to a relapse in my health.

But please, take no pity in Poppy Montage. I am a perfectly healthy human being. I just have the most unfortunate epidemiological luck. The Center of Disease Control would love me!

For the month of April,
Poppy Montage!

Carlsbad Flower Fields (over my diseased ridden body)

Good morning my babies! It’s going to be Easter weekend! Any plans?

This Sunday I plan to visit the Carlsbad Flower Fields.

That is of course if I don’t catch pneumonia and die.

I’m not a hypochondriac (you’re not a hypochondriac if you swear you only have one disease). But yes, dear ol’ Poppy is sick to his stomach. My joints ache like a 85 year-old arthritic woman with osteoporosis. My head is throbbing—and in a perfect tempo as well; I would probably join in with my tambourine if I don’t hurt when I move around. I’m retaining water. If I knew I wasn’t on my period I’d have think that.
But these are usually my regular symptoms of an incoming sickness. And I kind of like to be warned ahead of time because it would give me ample time to attempt to curb my sickness by downing many pills of vitamin C and other immuno-reinforcements.
Hopefully those reinforcements hold up. I really don’t want to be miserable when I go here!

(PS I think I might know the culprit of my misfortune)

St. Patrick's Day 2008

For St. Patrick's Day, Gay Henchman invited me over to his friend's house for a small family dinner. I think he and his friend are dating. Or they're boyfriends. Or their interests in each other are barely budding--but then again they're not lesbians. With the rather hazy boundaries of gay relationships nowadays they could just be really good friends. Or friends with benefits, a concept that I'm still finding incomprehensible.

Anyway his family was very lovely. They're not Irish by the way, just the type of family that grew up closely-knit. And although most of their kids are grown up, they do try to have as many get-togethers as time will allow them to. I'm sure they have their own family problems just like everyone else, but these sorts of events in themselves would deem them the exemplary American family. At least in my opinion. Usually modeled institutions from my perspective are constructed from the lacking of society now.
Anyway, they were also welcoming to newcomers such as myself. However when I told them that I am strictly sober, they looked at me as if I had a platypus suddenly appear on my shoulder. But they were accommodating as they served me green apple cider in a wine class--which was a very nice gesture. They just think now that at one point in my life I was a terrible drunkard, haha!

The dinner consisted of the "traditional" St. Patrick's meal: soda bread, leak and carrot, potatoes au gratin (French, but it was good nonetheless), and corned beef. But my complements to GH's friend's mother, whom so far had made the best soda bread and potato au gratin I have ever tasted. I failed though in trying to coax the secret ingredients out of her. For a woman who can hold her alcohol, she can hold her secrets!

Happy St. Patrick's Day.

The above comic was sent to me by Gay Henchman, which made me laugh outloud. Thank goodness I found him.

Tip of the Day: Applesauce instead of Butter

Tip of the Day:

Instead of using butter when baking muffins, cakes, and breads; you can use a 1:1 ratio of nonsweetened applesauce as a healthier alternative. Because applesauce contains no fat, it is not only a healthier alternative but you will get a more moist texture. Let me just warn you though that although applesauce does have the same baking effect as butter, it does take a longer time in the oven. So don't panic if you stick a toothpick in the middle of the bread and still get goo when it's already been in there for the suggested amount of time.

If you do however plan to use sweetened applesauce, you should halve the amount of sugar the recipe initially calls for because sweetened applesauce also contains almost a 1:1 ratio of apples to sugar. Unless you're a sweet tooth and you like your food to be as sweet as molases. (But when I think of molases, I think of boiled moles for some reason).

This healthy alternative is not intended for cookies or brownies as their consistency tends to be different from cakes, muffins, and breads. You can use this healthier alternative, don't get me wrong, but the end product you will get will be so moist that the square of brownie or the cookie will bend and break apart picked up. But if you prefer this kind of brownie/cookie as there are some out there in the bakeries, then by all means use it!

Mommy Likes Ladies

Dear Poppy,

My relationship between my mom and I have gotten better since I came out. Right now I even think of myself as the "the favorite son". But ever since then I'm beginning to feel awkward about her interest in women. She says things like "she's so cute" or I even catch her looking at women's tits. Is my mom a lesbian or does she think that since I'm gay that it's okay for her to be gay too? I don't know if I'd be able to handle that well.

Fruit of Her Loins


Dear ACTUAL Fruit of Her Loins,

Awww you're so adorable. So dear mother's checks out women and looks at the devil's dumblings, bazoombas, the milkshakes--you get my point. And you’re a little disheartened by that. So what? Gay Henchman and I check out women a lot. He not only perpetuates the gay stereotype by not only naming each brand but also each shade of color, but he also makes a quick assessment on her tit, ass, and legs. He reviews it like every other man planning to mate. And like every other man out there, her appearance is all he keeps on checking out. But is that enough to make denounce his love for men? No of course not.

So what if mommy is a lesbian? She can be used as evidence that gay is genetic. How is she any different from being a person? Did she give you trouble when you came out to her? If anything like you said the bonds between you two got stronger. You're not only slightly being hypocritical, but you're kinda setting the gay rights movement back a few decades by not acknowledging your mom's lesbian curiosities. She probably didn't have the luxury that you did to open up to her true feelings at a younger age. I mean being a lesbian can't be (and it isn't) wrong. After all you are gay so the moral issues isn't the case. Do you think that she might be stealing your spotlight, you diva?

If that is of course she is a budding lesbian.

Okay to explore the other side of the gamut, what if it was just an expression of accepting you? Although personally I doubt that, you do have the power to vocalize that. But don't go hurting your mother's feelings by saying "ew stop checking out girls, it's disgusting". She's human too. Put her in your position: how would you feel if someone was uncomfortable by the way you act? Not very good about yourself, huh? It seems though that you're not even sure what she's doing. Start with that. Be sneaky. Ask if momma likes what she sees. If she likes a lady's shoes or the brand of stockings, fabulous! If she likes to see those legs wrapped around her, fabulous! (Although I probably don't think you'd want a mental picture of that seeing that she's your mother). When (or if she ever, but I also doubt that) describes her affections for a woman, then be subtle: change the subject. She's a living breathing, human being capable of mating (just like you). It's not like she entangles you in the imagery of her actions.

You know you can't change these things. You'll still love your mother whatever she is.

Sincerely,
Poppy CU Montage


GIVE ME MORE WORK PLEASE!
(by responding or commenting):
Poppy_Montage@yahoo.com

Artist Pick of the Month: Chris Garneau

Gay Henchman came up to me sometime in late January and suggested that if I ever ran out of things to write, I could write about the music that I was into. He had noticed that I have a tendency to momentarily gravitate toward an artist and listen to them abusively until I grow tired and move onto different musical prospects. It was a great idea to write about my favorite artists of the month, however I don’t think my choices would count. You see, my babies, the singers that I tend to gravitate toward have one thing in common: they tend to die young. Just kidding—god I hope I just didn’t curse myself to become the killer of all young and budding artists with potential.

But here I am, without a thing to write about—actually I do, but I really think GH’s idea was really great.

So instead of me picking out the artist of this month, I figure that I have GH do the honors and find one for me. Apparently he began to anticipate that I was going to ask for assistance because the moment I came up to him, he had told me that he had “borrowed” my iPod and went ahead and uploaded this particular artist’s songs (more rather stole my purse for a couple of hours without my notice).

“He’s gorgeous!” exclaimed GH in a schoolgirl-like manner as he returned my purse. Granted that I do like to look at handsome men, I would be slightly reluctant to listen to someone’s recommendations for a musical artist simply because of a nice ass. That’s like saying that we should watch more of a porn star not of his ability to please, but for his PhD in Physics.

And so the artist excavation began. A Boston native, Chris Garneau moved to Brooklyn to play live music. His venues are small but often packed as one reviewer who went to go see a performance had said to me. The setting is very simple: a piano with a lampshade and a cellist who accompanies him a piano. Together they play a few songs in the dimly lit room, something that supports and amplifies the mood of his music.

His music is not for the perky and the sunshine-lollipops. The key theme of Garneau’s music is pessimistic and tragic—this comment is a complement. In slow tempo, most songs are in minor keys, giving it a more melancholy feel. Much of will directly remind me of Regina Spektor (her style of music, not her lyrical), Jeff Buckley, and Elliot Smith, who by the way he does an excellent cover of “Between the Bars”.

He succeeds in conjuring memories in ones head but in darker shades. His song “Relief” is an example. Although in an interview Garneau professes that the song gives a more positive attitude about coming across a former lover and no longer feeling jealous. Personally when looking at the lyrics and listening to the song one more time, I could not find the “no longer feeling jealous part”; in fact in my interpretation of the song is otherwise: jealousy still remains. GH’s interpretation of the song, much like many illiterate testosterone-induced men, is about a prostitute. I don’t know where he got that idea.

My favorite song of his is “Baby’s Romance”, perhaps the darkest of all his songs. Inspired by his own accounts, the song opens up as the baby being stolen away. Continually, you get the impression that for sometime now the baby is being manipulated or subjected to something he doesn’t want. This action is done clandestinely, away from the eyes of baby’s authority, leading me to believe that this form abuse was probably sexual. After sending GH to do further research on this song, he returned with only good tidings: I was right. But the song is not so abysmal. In fact the lyrics become more empowering for the baby as the song progresses. In there, he begins to show that the baby is capable of independent thoughts; the baby would rather sleep in a dilapidated cot than to sleep with his captor. Here, the baby’s mature and slightly resentful of his captor. This is ultimately resolving this manner by having to turn his captor in because, poignantly, “now fighting’s a part of baby’s romance”.

At least that’s my interpretation of it.

To conclude this short, but time-elongated article, Chris Garneau’s songs are intended to bring forth nostalgia, however in that he also manages to casts shadows of realism. But I think GH said it best when it came to this guy: “don’t ever listen to him while under the influence of anything; they’re potent enough to make you depressed if you misinterpret.”

Thoughts For Food! (coffee edition)

Coffee: The Other Morning Beer

Today my darlings, we travel far and wide to introduce to you this new segment I shall call “Thought for Food.” (at least for the meantime because even Momma Montage is not satisfied with the title—and Gay Henchman agrees; it’s clearly spawned from perfunctory creative juices….) This segment involves pretty much what the title means despite its lack of grammatical correctness: a very petite article on food. And for those of you who personally know Poppy, you all well know that Momma Montage LOVES to eat. That is why dear ol’ Papi Poppy can be found at your local gym suffering hours on end to shed off the undesired effects of happy and satiated taste buds. And to kill two birds with one stone, I hope that it answers your questions, Gay Henchman: so that my affinity for food doesn’t show… remind you of anyone?
So to kick of our segment, I would like to start with one of earth’s favorite beverages, the cup of joe, the other beer of the morning: coffee! Coffee is drank not just during the morning anymore, my sweetnesses. About 85% of this nation gets up in the morning to brew coffee before doing anything else—including emptying the bladder. This ink-coloured beverage is now drank after mealtimes, over both good and bad dates, hot or cold, with various syrups, and of course by every sleep-deprived college student trying to survive exam weeks. It is such a milestone in humanity that it has integrated itself with business. People drink coffee for breakfast. They are also expected to drink coffee during work. Coffee even has its own designated break for the working class—although in my opinion no one really gets coffee on their coffee break; usually they engage in gossip, or smoke, or drink the flask hidden in their file cabinets, or sexually harass their employees (remind you of anyone, GH?). In fact, the coffee business itself rakes in more than $22 billion annually in just coffee sales and not including sales of instant coffee, beans, and coffee makers!
And just like any beverage that is filled with diversity, coffee is a gastronomical art. Although there are about ten species of coffee plants worldwide used to make the beverage, it is also the process the beans undergo that expands its horizons to thousands of types and blends. One such particular coffee is valued over hundreds of dollars, only to find out that the bean must pass through the digestive lumen of a civet. So technically it would be actually a compliment if you say that it was “shitty coffee.”
But contrary to popular belief, coffee does not originate from Columbia. No, a coffee's ancestor doesn’t even come from a black panther or a rural traveler with a donkey caravan. In fact coffee comes from the Africa, particularly a small region bordering Ethiopia and Sudan. And to now put that long introduction on coffee to a close, I traveled far and wide (as said, but not really just to a Starbucks in Rowland Heights) to attend a coffee seminar on African coffee.
Hosting that seminar was one of Starbucks’ finest baristas and coffee connoisseurs, Monsieur Aaron Halopoff. He gave a brief lecture on the history of coffee and its processes and then presented three forms of different coffee from Africa: Kenya, Ethiopia Sidamo, and Arabian Mocha Sinani. They were paired off respectively with small complementary solid foods: orange raisin currant scone, lemon biscotti/ herbal lemon biscuit, and a dark chocolate.
We were given the Kenya blend first. Comparative to wine, coffee tasting involves the smell, taste, and texture but only to a different degree. For example the Kenya blend possesses an earthy and volcanic smell. It is still coffee mind you, but within that aroma sprouts a rather peculiar hint of fragrances: like dried orange peel or jasmine leaves (think the smell of tea leaves if you don’t know what I’m talking about). You swirl, then take it to your mouth and slurp (so that you don’t singe your whole mouth) and allow the flavors to sprits your taste buds lightly. Particularly the Kenya blend is rather soothing in my opinion. With its gentle yet acidic taste, this particular coffee is my preference and meant as a beverage of relaxation and escape (kinda like alcohol, only you won’t get arrested or you actually remember what you did after consuming copious amounts of it). It can be enjoyed after during streams of irrelevant conversations or after dinner when you want to reflect on the events of the day. Partnered with an orange raisin currant biscuit the taste evolves. In fact many emotions spring forth from the taste buds: joyful, serene, soothing. It’s a smooth aftertaste that softly radiates throughout your mouth.
Next is my personal least favorite blend, Ethiopia Sidamo. Although after discussing this with a coffee addict, this blend offers a rather bold and natural/floral flavor. The texture was smooth and sharp; unlike the other two coffee blends, this taste generated from the back of the mouth to the front. Yes it is bitter, but bitter is adored by others, just not by myself. In Poppy’s opinion this tasted like coffee stirred with twigs and pinecones.
But fret not, that eco-cacophony was not meant to insult this drink. This drink is something meant for a spontaneous change of the palate as this taste has an invading personality. When paired with the scone or biscotti, it personally regulated the intense lemony and herbal flavors. This beverage might actually go well after consuming bolder flavors such as peppery or acidic foods. Also this kind of flavor may be very well enjoyed with soft cheeses that have subtler flavors such as brie, formaggio, or Philadelphia cream.
The last coffee presented had the cleanest finish of the three. Granted, I also took delight in its electric flavor. This was not at all abrupt as the Ethiopia Sudamo blend nor was this blend as subtle and radiating as the first. This was the ambiguous coffee. This was the coffee with flavors that evoked mischief and childlike vivacity suggesting intention for motivation and deliberation. It’s the kind of blend one should suggest to drink on an actual coffee break, or to have on their side while reading a textbook or doing their taxes (although when your doing your taxes gin wouldn’t be a bad idea).
When paired with dark chocolate the two tastes become a rather animated affair. Initially coy and subtle in your mouth when the two enter your mouth, but when the dark chocolate melts from the heat of the coffee and amalgamates, it becomes a steamy dance full of guilt but leaving you yearning for more. It’s small surges of flavor erupting sporadically in your mouth. It was the best coupling and I cannot suggest a better complementary solid food.
I do hope that there are future coffee seminars such as this, perhaps exploring other blends from other parts of the world like Indonesia or Latin America. Perhaps to further bring forth the full potential flavors of the coffee, palate cleansers should be offered in between each taste (such as water or a piece of tangy fruit) so that the flavors of one coffee doesn’t overpower the other. At any case it’s quite a pleasant and enlightening experience.

Until next time,
Poppy CU Montage

Gay Henchman's response

Hahaha, Gay Henchman is disgusted by the last letter. I would have fired him for the intolreance, but he needs the job. Besides... it's hard breaking in another go-for guy. And I absolutely don't have the time to blackmail another into submission!

GH: Out of all the letters you recieved you got this?!
(he had a disgusted look on his face)