I’ve been roasting coffee off and on for a while now with my popcorn popper. So far the results have been inconsistent, but the good batches have inspired me to keep trying. I plan on taking a systematic approach to coffee roasting to better understand what makes for a good batch on an air popper.

I’m using a Poppery II air-pop popcorn popper. It was a five dollar purchase at a thrift store, which was a bargain, especially compared to a real coffee roaster. If you want to try it out, get the kind of air popper with spiral air vents so you can get a vortex of hot air that spins the beans around. Some poppers just shoot the hot air straight up and this doesn’t work as well.

I purchased some green Brazilian beans and some Sumatran beans from Mr Green Beans in Portland. While roasting I’m keeping track of several parameters, including 1)  the type of bean, 2) the amount of beans per batch, 3) the duration of time until first crack, 4) the duration of roasting after first crack, and finally  5) the amount of time the beans rest between roasting and brewing.

Currently I am roasting 45g of beans per batch. I typically use 22g of beans per cup of coffee, so this is enough for two cups at a time, and the amount fits nicely in my little canisters. The Brazilian beans are smaller than the Sumatran ones, and they give off much more chaff while roasting. Since they’re smaller, they take less time to get to first crack, about 3:00, while the Sumatran ones take an extra 30 seconds. I’m not sure yet how long I should roast after first crack to get a good flavor.

I record all of the settings on the little storage canisters with a grease pencil. After brewing the coffee I rate the batch 1-5 and note any of its special qualities. It takes about 45 minutes to roast all eight canisters worth of coffee. I hope that I can speed things up once I have a better understanding of how to best roast the beans.

I’ll follow up in future posts on what roasts well in the air popper.

Some People, by Chris Diken

This is a 24-page short story about a man in a bathroom.  I read it at the Freehouse Bar while drinking a Caldera IPA. The story is a fast read. It is mostly dialogue, and the author does a decent job of keeping the conversation engaging.

The story revolves around a man visiting the restroom in a modern art museum. Once he starts relieving himself he hears a voice asking to take a peek. The urinator is disturbed by the request, and discusses why he doesn’t want to reveal his goods. Along the way he wonders whether or not he’s participating in an exhibit at the museum.

I immediately liked this piece. The subject matter is fun: what’s not to like about a story about a man in the bathroom.  I may have liked it more if I read it in the bathroom, but I think it will work wherever you read it. I also think it’s a good critique on modern art. The protagonist is unsure whether he’s being asked to participate in an obscene act, or whether he’s unwittingly become a participant in a modern art exhibit. Artists often walk the line between obscenity and art. It’s interesting to experience this tension first hand. Check it out.

To visit it, I start at the Rose Quarter Transit Center near the base of the Steel Bridge.  Walkways and bike paths go through contortions making their way towards the water.  As I follow them down, I’m tempted to continue across the Willamette on the familiar lower span of Steel Bridge.  Instead, I keep to the left, and make my way south down the Eastbank Esplanade towards Morrison Bridge and the unknown.

Floating Walkway

I am walking on water. It keeps on flowing beneath me. It swirls away like grains of marble, rippling and twirling, carrying with it sticks and twigs, mats of leaves, and blades of grass. Forgotten banks shed their burdens. I do not know where the river takes them, except that these burdens are gone from me. I feel lighter.

Ghost Ship Bridge

I am floating in the air. It seems as if nothing sustains me, but I am safe, stationary. From here I can see the world below, stones and concrete, trees and water. They are familiar but none are my own. All I can feel is the air around me, the wind in my hair and small beads of water condensing on my skin.

Echo Cave

My feet are on the ground. Standing on stone, encased in steel and concrete, the world roars around me. I am secure and dry. I barely hear my own voice amid the roar of the world. But I know it is here, safe in stone. The river will not stop flowing, and people too pass frequently. Where are they going? Surely they must hear the world racing around them.

A small black bird has chosen to join me. It cries out across the path. Clearly: “I have found my voice. Listen your own.” I cannot stay in this moment forever. My vision crystalizes and the city is clear beyond the concrete and steel. I must go back out into the world.

Water Avenue

I go up the spiral ramp to Morrison Bridge and end up on SE Water Ave. It’s a small slice of post-industrial warehouses that have been retooled to craft Northwestern cuisine. Bunk Bar, Hair of the Dog, Water Ave Coffee, Boke Bowl, and of course, Clark Lewis await. I reflect on my walk over a latte, and then take transit back to the Rose Garden. I am back where I started, but I’m not at the same place.

I was recently reminded of how amazing I am, and I could not help but think of how unfair it is that I don’t share more about myself with you, dear Internet reader.  So starting now you’ll be to get twice as much of me for the same low price.

Stay here at www.ryanroser.com for your latest in inner monologues, chicken gossip, recession proof hobo recipes, bowel movement updates, home repair hijinks, and unwarranted advice.

Venture over to www.textidermy.com for half-baked technobabble, lengthy text based sleep aids, insightful econometrics, and circular reasoning.

So weary web wanderer, come this winter and rest on either of my broad, black-clothed shoulders. Relish in the magic of the fluttering, fancy, flakes of wit and wisdom falling from my dry-scalped brain.

I created this logo and t-shirt to support the Muslim community center in New York.  It is available on Cafe Press at http://www.cafepress.com/pursuitof.