Drinking black coffee probably doesn't mean you're a "purist". Having said that, one's preferences are not entirely nonindicative of their attitudes towards life happenings in general, pandemic-biased or not.
I possess great hatred towards the incorporation of milk and sugar in hot brews; it strips character from the silky solution, be it a sparkling light roast or thoughtful dark. Moreover, it is additional sugar in one's diet - sweetness that ought be obtained in a solid state, like cookies or cakes.
And while there are a select few that may engage in debate over the concept of milk tea, I'd like to retort that prior to the popularization of global bubble tea franchises was the introduction of dairy as a cooling agent in the steeping-and-sipping culture of the British. In that regard, the condiments pay homage to tradition, as opposed to intolerance towards astringency.
I possess great hatred towards the incorporation of milk and sugar in hot brews; it strips character from the silky solution, be it a sparkling light roast or thoughtful dark. Moreover, it is additional sugar in one's diet - sweetness that ought be obtained in a solid state, like cookies or cakes.
And while there are a select few that may engage in debate over the concept of milk tea, I'd like to retort that prior to the popularization of global bubble tea franchises was the introduction of dairy as a cooling agent in the steeping-and-sipping culture of the British. In that regard, the condiments pay homage to tradition, as opposed to intolerance towards astringency.
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Already declared previously, Platform is northeast GTA's java gem. Comprising of a team fluent in the language of beans and roasts, the cafe never fails to impress with their seasonal rotations. (Mind you, I am referring to the caffeine menu free from synthetic sweeteners and gimmicky additives.)
My uptown tarriance had not been without purpose: starting the day off with an unfussy cup of coffee soothes the soul in profound ways, and Platform is the only way to go should I be in the area.
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The menus remained affixed to their signature clipboards, albeit laminated to improve ease of sanitation. A listing of drink offerings had also been secured by the entrance for a contactless ordering process. Within the establishment, every other table was made available for dine-in, while two 2-person tables had been arranged outside as part of a makeshift, asphalt lot patio.
A shaky tent resulted from windy external conditions, however, in observation of concrete blocks used as footings, I rested easy knowing that there would be no threat to its structural integrity. Flying napkins and uneven table legs, though, were another issue altogether.
A shaky tent resulted from windy external conditions, however, in observation of concrete blocks used as footings, I rested easy knowing that there would be no threat to its structural integrity. Flying napkins and uneven table legs, though, were another issue altogether.
We took to two pourovers. The first was a 12 oz. Midnight Express, recommended by the owner herself upon the relaying a need for "room" at the top. The medium roast of Commuter (as a Pour-Over) was warned to be too watery with extra liquid. I conjured up the image of blandness in my mind, then quickly adhered to her suggestion. Midnight Express was indeed dark when consumed on its own, yet it wasn't as bitter as Nicaraguan Dark. It could be interpreted as the equivalent of a dark ale, adroitly accommodating additions of milk and sugar.
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