Snack Time

Yes. It is snack time again.

On a side note: It is a good thing I became a musician because I would not have been a very productive police officer. 

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The Cuban Sandwich

Had my first obe of these today at a cuban cafe just off Lincoln Road in Miami, FL

Cuban Bread, Ham, Mustard, Pickles, Roast Pork and Melted Swiss Cheese. It was pretty damn good. I still like the Cuban steak sandwich the best but I’d take this over a ghetto deli sub any day. I finished it off with a Cafe Colado

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Cafe Colada

I can not even step foot in the Miami area with out getting a Cafe Colada

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I Freakin Love Cuban Coffee

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Headaches Suck

I’ve got a blasting headache right now so this is going to be a photo friday. All I can really think about now is a hot cup of really strong expresso.

That’s all I have to say,

Peter Weis

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An Afternoon Post

An Early Afternoon Post.
(Total reading time 2 minutes)

Right now would be the perfect time to write my blog post. It is just after 2pm in the after noon. It is a Saturday in which the sun is playing hide and go seek with the blanket of passing clouds. Every once in a while the sky sheds a few tears but doesn’t open up to tell us why. The vertical blinds I stare through imprison me until the clouds pass.

Usually I write at night in a frantic foot race between me and every last second of the day. My mind wanders through the days events, searching for a topic to reflect on, then I write.

At this moment my friend Mr. Coffee is warming up in the next room. In the last year that we have known each other we have found great respect in our friendship. I keep him clean, and he makes me shots of dark lethal expresso. Since I started the postaday2011 challenge I do drink coffee more often although I’m still not sure why, Coffee is like a bad conversation, that just doesn’t get to the point. Expresso is fast and direct like a 40 cent text message on old mobile phone. I love the black aroma of sweetened caffeine stirred together till it turns a syrupy consistency. Speaking of which my friend is getting a bit steamy. I better go before his pressure gets to high.

My good friend Mr. Coffee.
Thats all I have to say.
Peter Weis

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The Guy By The Window Part I

Most Of This Is True.
(Total reading time 2-3 minutes)

Another evening, another cup of coffee. This is my second night in a row inhabiting a miniature  cafe table in my local Starbucks. With just a bit more then 11 months to go to complete the postaday2011 project I have a feeling I will be spending way to much time here. I’m sure after a few more visits the employees will all begin to talk. That’s what happens when you become a regular. I’ll come in for a coffee. With my old navy blue Jansport backpack, unraveled threads choking the zipper, my mac book pro nestled safely inside. I’ll order , then look for a seat. After the wave of customers has died  and all the frappa, lappa, caramel mochas, with a bit of this, and little extra thats are done they’ll begin to whisper.

“What the hell–this freakin guy is in here almost every night.”

“Who?”

Then the two girls dressed in Starbuck’s standard issue black polo shirts and garden green aprons would sneak into the back room for a moment to pass the time.

“Like really? I just don’t get it. People come here and just work like its their office or something. I wish they never started that free wi-fi shit.”

“I know.”

“Some of these people are here almost every night. That guy out there at the table by the window, he just freakin sits there for two hours typing away and starring out the window into space.”

“Mr. tall black coffee extra hazelnut.”

“Yeah. He always orders the same thing. That and a chocolate brownie.”

“You think he is a stalker or something?”

“Uhhh who cares. He’s just another customer.”

“He wears the same thing all the time. Always dressed in jeans, dirty running sneakers, and a Yankees hat. Its not even baseball season.”

“I usually see him walk down the street in the direction of the gas station.”

“Don’t these people have jobs?”

“I don’t know. Maybe he’s a student over at Hofstra University or something.”

“Matt, the guy who works mornings said he’s a musician. He told me that one time some song was playing on the speakers and he sat there trying to guess it. He even asked Matt to go look it up.”

“Shit somebody just came in.”

The hubbub of the line forming would disturb their conversation and call their attention back to the counter. While fishing pastries out of the glass display cabinet and making frappa, lappa, extra this not much thats, they would look over again.

To Be Continued…. Hey I have another 11 months to work on this story. I think I’ll have fun with this and take my time.

Thanks for reading. Thats All I have to say.

Peter Weis

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How Do You Like Your Coffee

Coffee
(total reading time 1-2 minutes)

It is Sunday. After a failed attempted to do something productive my body gave in to a long toasty afternoon nap. Wrapped in heavy linens like a pig in a blanket I slept most of the day away.

Now it’s just after 6:30 in the evening.  It is still cold. Thin spots of ice cover the street. The wind makes it too cold for an evening walk so my wife and I drove to a nearby Starbucks. What could be better then merging the concept of the little italian cafe with mass production—besides every book on writing I seem to read suggests I should go to a cafe to sit and write.

Here I am.

Do I need to describe a Starbucks, they are all the same. The pale earth tone colors of the walls vary. They may be out of chocolate brownies or croissants, but in essence they are all the same. Large glass windows to observe the real world moving on while people sit and chat over fancy caramel, whip cream frappa, machiato, grande, extra this, not to much that drinks. I”ll stick to my  black hazelnut coffee with sugar. There are still some copies of the NY Times and a Newsday, Long Island’s biggest newspaper, stacked up in a  rack by the register. The obvious smell of fresh brewing coffee is overcome by mild cleaning agents. The employees like every one else bitch about the  cold weather and dream of moving someplace warm.

Now almost 7:30, my coffee is still warm. I write slow. The glass on the window next to me continues to get colder and colder.  And I watch. You can tell a lot from the way a person takes their coffee. Cafecito is my favorite. It is a cuban style drink made like expresso but the sugar is stirred in as the cup fills-creating a dark sweet syrup topped by an airy caramel foam. Out side of Miami there are not to many places that serve it and outside of Miami I just wouldn’t order it. It is dark, strong, and sweet. It goes down fast. Since I live in New York I usually settle for an expresso. In the past two months  I have made the switch to coffee. Still black and sweet but much thinner then the syrup I am used to. I enjoy the time it takes to finish. I will sip on a small, excuse me “tall” coffee from Starbucks for at least an hour. If it’s cold by the time I reach the bottom-I still finish it.

How do you like your coffee?

Thats all I have to say.

Peter Weis

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Recording Studio Essentials – Mr. Coffee

A Must have for any composer, producer or recording studio. Write music all night. If you want to make it big you have to put the time in.

The Mr Coffee Expresso Machine. Pair this up with a can of Cafe Bustello and some sugar. You will be working not stop.  I’d also like to say that Mr. Coffee’s customer service is excellent. I had a problem with my first Mr. Coffee after about 10 months of hard core use. I called the company and spoke with a representative for a few minutes and had a new one in the mail with in days.  No charge, no shipping fees.

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