About a month ago, G's world almost came crashing down--his friend who had been supplying him with his home-roasted coffee for years now was taking a break. This was a serious, serious dilemma, I tell you. G isn't the type of drinker who calls the stuff from Starbucks "coffee". If there's one thing I learned from G, it's that coffee does not come in a coffee chain cup, nor from beans bought at the supermarket, or powdered, or instant, or decaffeinated. It's not about the foam, it's the crema. It's not about the brand, it's the roast date, and it's not about the price, it's the machine.
So, with the last few hundred grams of beans left in the airtight jar, he had a (ridiculous) idea of making his own coffee roaster.
G: But you can roast chickens in it!
Me: Oh, okay.
A few weeks passed and a load of raw coffee beans arrived on our doorstep, and not long after, G was on a roll purchasing stainless sheets, a perforated drum, a motor, some tubes, and in the process of taking down an old shawarma cart to salvage its heating hobs.
|Yeah, our gas tanks are that big!|
|This is how G's hands look EVERY weekend.|
Though he tried to show me the design he was working on, and updating me on his project, I didn't really pay much attention, except on the fact that it was cheaper his way than to buy a ready-made one. And that it could roast chickens.
A couple of weeks passed, and...tadaaah!! A roaster in the flesh!
I must say, I'm quite impressed (as usual). Although, it took a few tries, flames, and scorched beans, G now has gotten the hang of roasting, and his morning brew is uh-mazing.
Smooth, rich, wonderful aroma, and thick crema--everything they advertise on television, only this is not a commercial, this is every morning!
|I didn't have time to clean the cups. Too excited to taste it.|
And the chickens are quite good, too.