Perfect Coffee, Made Perfectly
I can’t decide if I love or hate my local coffee shop. Before moving to Park Slope, Gorilla Coffee promised me a neighborhood. It’s patronized by a variety of gay Black men, Asian lesbians, Latino toddlers, and tattooed white twenty-somethings. I could always find a copy of The Onion, a cute blonde reading Proust, and a couple of guys from Bay Ridge. I wanted to live in that New York, not the Trump-ed up, new-development New York.
But sadly, my Gorilla-love is unrequited. I know it as soon as I open the door, when I am attacked by sound. It’s like visiting a feral cat that has been trapped in an apartment for a few days. All I have to do is crack the door, and it claws into me, draws blood and shrieks.
Then, there’s the attitude. Consider this sign placed next to the Gorilla mugs and t-shirts:
Despite the staff’s STANK attitude.
Ape mug. Real Nice.
T-shirt feels good on skin.
Stank attitude is generous. Although getting the attention of the overly pierced hung-over baristas is difficult, it’s even harder to get the coffee you’ve just ordered. You’ll need to wait as they blather about last night and who got laid. Pass on the opportunity to refocus their activities, as, “Excuse me, is that the decaf that I asked for?” doesn’t go over well.
So, why has Gorilla consistently made the top lists in New York Magazine, Time Out New York and Shecky’s? Why all the fuss for the sado-masochistic coffee experience?
In this fringe section of Park Slope, it’s important to separate yourself from the mainstream. Coffee is one way to politic. If you drink the bitter (though fair-trade, 100 % organic, and locally roasted) brew, then you’re righteous. You’re not in Starbucks; your coffee has fur on its chest.
I can spend $3.75 on a breve, because it’s a Gorilla breve. Only the strong can survive the noise; the punk staff, this over-roasted beverage. Morning pleasantries and skinny frappucinos are for the weak. At Gorilla, I can walk in a yuppie and walk out an animal.
The Perfect Cup of Coffee
The perfect coffee is low tech; some ground beans, a filter and a filter holder. Here's an article I wrote for thestreet.com all about it.
But sadly, my Gorilla-love is unrequited. I know it as soon as I open the door, when I am attacked by sound. It’s like visiting a feral cat that has been trapped in an apartment for a few days. All I have to do is crack the door, and it claws into me, draws blood and shrieks.
Then, there’s the attitude. Consider this sign placed next to the Gorilla mugs and t-shirts:
Despite the staff’s STANK attitude.
Ape mug. Real Nice.
T-shirt feels good on skin.
Stank attitude is generous. Although getting the attention of the overly pierced hung-over baristas is difficult, it’s even harder to get the coffee you’ve just ordered. You’ll need to wait as they blather about last night and who got laid. Pass on the opportunity to refocus their activities, as, “Excuse me, is that the decaf that I asked for?” doesn’t go over well.
So, why has Gorilla consistently made the top lists in New York Magazine, Time Out New York and Shecky’s? Why all the fuss for the sado-masochistic coffee experience?
In this fringe section of Park Slope, it’s important to separate yourself from the mainstream. Coffee is one way to politic. If you drink the bitter (though fair-trade, 100 % organic, and locally roasted) brew, then you’re righteous. You’re not in Starbucks; your coffee has fur on its chest.
I can spend $3.75 on a breve, because it’s a Gorilla breve. Only the strong can survive the noise; the punk staff, this over-roasted beverage. Morning pleasantries and skinny frappucinos are for the weak. At Gorilla, I can walk in a yuppie and walk out an animal.
The Perfect Cup of Coffee
The perfect coffee is low tech; some ground beans, a filter and a filter holder. Here's an article I wrote for thestreet.com all about it.
posted by Allison Fishman Task at 10:22 PM
2 Comments:
Gorilla Coffee sucks. It has no character other than bitterness (much like their staff-- their coffee is "stank"). Ernesto Illy died last week. Here was a man who devoted his life to the perfection and art of brewing and roasting. Who cares about trustafarians and the hollowness of modern day branding, lets talk about good coffee, there's plenty of it out there.
I am addicted to Lavazza Crema D'Aroma made in a Mokka Pot.
I kicked my espresso experience up a notch when I got a better grinder. A better grinder really does make a difference (you can have my old blade smasher grinder if you like, I'll drop it off to Rebecca).
I perfected my technique by heating my half & half and adding to the espresso.
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