Dragaera

Klava (WAS:RE: Today's cooking recipe for an article on Dragaeran life, culture, and art.)

Howard Brazee howard at brazee.net
Fri Nov 12 12:17:33 PST 2004

On Fri, 12 Nov 2004 11:15:13 -0800 (PST), Jerry Friedman  
<jerry_friedman at yahoo.com> wrote:

> I suspect that eggshell is the magic ingredient.  It's mostly calcium
> carbonate, which is a base and thus probably neutralizes the acids
> that cause what Vlad calls bitterness.
> Accordingly, I'd make klava with light-roasted, "full-bodied" beans.
> Dark roasting destroys the acids at the cost of destroying other
> flavors and giving you the taste of charcoal.  If the acids are
> being neutralized in another way, you probably don't need much
> roasting.
> I don't even like coffee (though it's possible I might like klava).
> I don't know why this kind of topic has such a weird fascination
> for me.  Anyway, I'd enjoy seeing a detailed description
> of how to make good klava.

I've read that Starbucks roasts their coffee more than most companies.    
Critics say they burn it.   They have been quite successful using a  
stronger flavored bean - usually with a bunch of other ingrediants such as  
chocolate and sugar that would make a more subtile flavor bean harder to  
taste.

There is a wide variety of coffee types in this world.   Have you ever  
ordered Vietnamese coffee at a restauraunt?   It takes a while for it to  
seep through, so if you're in a hurry, ask for it while you're still  
eating.

The country that is most addicted to coffee is Turkey.    Turkey is a  
fascinating country, and should be studied by fantasy authors.    
Interesting geographic formations, interesting religious differences,  
interesting for being in the middle of things.   And very interesting  
customs that overshadow everything else.    Watch the way they drink  
coffee.   Watch the way they smoke.   Even the way they shave (with the  
grain lasts only a couple of days - against the grain lasts longer).

The movie _Hamam_ is worth renting:   Francesco and Marta are husband and  
wife running a small design company in Rome. When Francesco's long  
forgotten Aunt Anita dies in Istanbul, he travels there to look after the  
sale of the hamam (one of a few traditional Turkish baths left) he  
inherited. There he meets the family running the hamam, gets attracted to  
a member of it and the whole Turkish atmosphere and decides not to sell  
the hamam.    Even while he can use his Italian cell phones, Turkey is  
alien.



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