Kitten Coffee

Hoboken 411 August 26th, 2008
"They sell Kitten Coffee, which in my opinion was very smooth, not bitter, and quite robust. I was wired for hours later..." more
Ideal Bite July 24th, 2008
"This Brooklyn-based roasting company supplies NYC baristas and restaurants with rich, bold, and superaromatic 100% Rainforest Alliance Certified espresso beans.." more
CoffeeChat July 15th, 2008
"Kitten Coffee is only one of a very few coffee companies offering organic, great tasting coffees balanced with zero carbon footprints,.."
New York Times February 29th, 2008 By Stephanie Goodman ESPRESSO ENTHUSIASTS WORKSHOP
A clock, a bathroom scale and a thermometer? I had signed up for a class on how to become a barista, but these were not the tools of the trade I expected. The session, held one Sunday a month in an industrial space in Clinton Hill, Brooklyn, seemed like an enjoyable way to indulge my love of caffeine, and it started off promisingly: a sort of coffee klatsch with my fellow students as we drank rich espressos dashed off by our instructor, Rowan Tuckfield. His roasting company, Kitten Coffee, sells beans to restaurants and teaches professionals and civilians alike how to make a demitasse that's up to Italian standards. But then it came time to drive, as Mr. Tuckfield called the operation of the professional-grade espresso makers, and my classmates and I quickly ran off the road. The Italian method, above, is surprisingly precise: the extraction should last 30 seconds and result in a one-ounce jolt with a quarter-inch of crema on the surface. It turns out there are reasons for such precision. Less than an ounce, for instance, and you taste only burnt beans, as I did. Repeatedly. With an eye on the clock, I came closer to the magic mark. Similarly, the scale helps measure the pounds of pressure needed to hand-tamp the grounds into the filter, and the thermometer indicates the best moment to tilt the milk jug during frothing. As we made cup after cup that improved from shockingly bitter to not entirely hopeless, Mr. Tuckfield told us to watch for the coda di topo, the thin stream of extracted coffee that, as its name suggests in Italian, should resemble the tail of a mouse, and urged us to treat beans the way we do food. (You don't want to know about the grease from whole beans left in the hopper too long. Don't be the first customer of the day at your local coffee place, Mr. Tuckfield advises.) After I heated the milk for my final cup (wield the frothing wand so you hear a shy hiss, not loud slurps), I received a certificate attesting to barista abilities worthy of a Roman caffeinista. And right after the class was over, I headed straight to the nearest cafe. All that coffee had me jonesing for more.