Black Coffee in Collins

At the corner of College and Walnut down in Old Town, the Northern Hotel towers, and out of their bottom floor, a Starbucks operates. It’s big, eye-catching, and in a good enough location to get caffeine in a pinch–but those in the know instead make sure to step around it and walk down college just a few more doors to get to Bean Cycle.

Bean Cycle has a reputation as one of the best coffee roasters around town, with a plethora of options available, sourced from all over the world. They also happen to have a very defined aesthetic–the first drink I saw on the menu after stepping in was something called the “Kerouac,” if that tells you anything about the demographic this cafe appeals to.

I ordered what was marked simply as “Coffee” and took it to go, seeing every indoor seat was occupied by hip college students, buried in their midterm preparations.

Though it doesn’t look like much, this was one of the most unique cups of coffee I’ve had in a while. It had a very, very woodsy flavor upfront, followed by smoky notes that had an almost ashy quality–like an over-the-campfire cowboy coffee. I know not everyone would be a fan of that flavor combination, especially coming from already bitter black coffee, but I personally enjoyed it immensely, despite its lack of anything resembling a final note or aftertaste. It may be second only to Bindle in terms of basic black coffee I’ve reviewed on this blog.

I’m semi-familiar with Linden Street Cafe. This past summer they were one of my go-to places for a quick cup of good iced coffee, and the service is always great. I love the interior design as well–it strikes a balance somewhere between the rustic clutter of Bindle and the warmly-lit, simple-but-functional Crooked Cup, with the bonus of ever-changing local art displayed on the walls.

It’s a comforting environment, but during this visit, I made a spur-of-the-moment effort to step out of my comfort zone by trying a new drink–an espresso.

Though I suppose espresso technically qualifies as black coffee, it had never really crossed my mind as something I could review for this blog. Linden Street seemed like a fine place to expand my coffee horizons in this way, with my already having had their standard black coffee (it’s good). I ordered my drink, a single shot, and sat down with a friend to wait.

Upon receiving the drink, I was struck by how pretty it was–though Bindle had them beat when it came to dish presentation, the golden-brown crema (is that what it’s called?) on top was a new sight for me.

As it turns out, the crema tasted even better than it looked. I’ve never gotten the flavor it carried from coffee before–it was incredibly cinnamon-y, slightly sweet, and undeniably delicious.

After getting past that element of the brew, I moved on to what’s apparently known as the “body” of the espresso. Though a barely-perceptible cinnamon sweetness was present on the front and back end of every sip, it was mostly characterized by a strong but smooth bitterness, almost velvety. This effect only grew more pronounced until I had finished off the shot, almost in awe of how unique of an experience this coffee had been.

Not only will I be back for more espresso at Linden Street Cafe, I’ll likely begin ordering them at some of my other favorite spots. Who knew there was another whole dimension to black coffee that had been floating right under my nose?

Until someone mentioned it to me, I wasn’t aware Ginger and Baker served coffee. I was mostly under the impression it was an expensive bakery/even more expensive restaurant. However, after finding myself nearby recently, I decided to take a chance and see what they had to offer.

Stepping inside, I was a little overwhelmed. It was one of those situations where a couple different business models collide: the coffee bar was situated in the center of a large square room, surrounded by racks of holiday-themed retail items and flanked on either side by the entrance to the fancy restaurant and what looked to be a room where cooking classes are held. Although it was a lot to take in, I appreciated the rustic feel the barnwood and brick accents lent to the place.

There were quite a few intriguing menu items and many different types of coffee available, but for that day I went with the simple drip coffee.

Considering I spent around $2 on the drink itself, I wasn’t expecting anything incredible, but I was actually pleasantly surprised. It was a strong brew, building up in a quick crescendo of bitterness and eventually fading into an subtle nuttiness. My eyes were drawn to a warmly lit display of pies and pastries on the other side of the bar, and realized this is the type of coffee that’s meant to be had with something sweet to counter it–although I managed to finish just fine without one.

Ultimately, I’m glad I took a chance on Ginger and Baker, and have confidence the rest of their menu is quality as well. The drip coffee is nothing special, but it’s a great simple blend, and sometimes that’s exactly what you need.

The Crooked Cup is tucked away into a row of buildings in Old Town that I frequently pass but rarely wander through– I had heard about the shop before, but didn’t realize it was much more accessible to me than I previously thought. I stopped by just as a cold night was starting to set in, looking for something to warm me up.

Immediately, the atmosphere of the shop drew me in–it was simplistic, but not sterile. Rows of college students sat typing away at their laptops under the low ceilings and warm orange light, flanked by the counter which ran down the length of the wall. The front end of the counter displayed a decent variety of both drinks and snacks. Normally, I would have gone for a plain Dark Roast, but I realized as I was running over the options that I haven’t ordered a french press at a coffee shop before. I paid my $4 or so and sat down.

I was served the french press mechanism (already pushed down) and an empty cup in which to pour (again, I appreciated the simple-but-not-sterile design). However, upon taking my first sip, I couldn’t help but be a little heartbroken: it was watery.

There’s not much you can say about watery coffee. Maybe I’m used to strong black coffee and this was just a lighter blend that caught me off guard, but the flavor didn’t hit nearly as hard as I wanted it to. There was a pleasant, tangy aftertaste present, but beyond that, it was weak and not memorable.

I will say, though, that before I left, I got a little hungry, and bought an everything bagel with cream cheese and pesto spread. Keep in mind I’m saying this without ever having been to any real bagel place, but it was easily the best bagel I’ve ever had. I don’t know if it made up for the coffee, but it definitely ensured I’ll be back to give The Crooked Cup a second shot.

I’m no stranger to Mugs. Over the past few winters, I can recall several times where it served as a solace from the icy weather after work or after an outing with friends. It was the perfect place for warming up briefly with a sugary drink before going back out and waiting for the bus.

However, this time, I visited during the day, and with a different order in mind–their plainest black coffee possible.

As it turns out, Mugs have all their black coffee options already brewed and sitting in airpots behind the line for you to fill up yourself. There were four or five different choices, but I figured their house blend (a medium roast) would be the best representation of the shop.

The first thing I noticed about this coffee was how strong of an up-front flavor it had. I feel like most of the time it takes a moment for the full flavor of a coffee to develop, but this time a strong sourness was immediately detectable. It wasn’t necessarily a bad sourness and it didn’t hit too hard, but I found the more I tried to drink at once the more uncomfortable it became–it forced me to pace myself. The body had that classic bitter  quality with a faint caramel-like sweetness, which quickly dissipated and left only the waning bitterness for an aftertaste.

Sourness and bitter lingers aren’t things that I usually enjoy in coffee, but this brew felt well-rounded enough for me to give it a pass, especially at its price. I’ve had more expensive coffee that had much less character than this blend, and will likely be back the next chance I get.

I remember when I was very young and on a road trip with my family, we had stopped at a small strip mall to take a break and stretch our legs. I stayed curled up in the backseat in the bored stupor that long drives tend to put you in, until my dad re-entered the car with a fresh cup of black coffee. As a joke, I asked if I could have a sip, but he shrugged and handed the cup back to me without questioning it. It felt like coffee was for Grown-Ups Only, and I was secretly very excited to try it. I brought it to my mouth and sipped.

It tasted terrible and I gave it back to my dad immediately.

And, while I’ve come to appreciate black coffee, the dark roast I had for my first Dazbog coffee took me right back to that moment so many years ago. It wasn’t necessarily awful, and it was well worth the $2 or so that I spent on it, but it was certainly unpleasant.

Right off the bat, it had a sharp bitterness–maybe I’ve been spending too much time working with music, but my mind wanted to go the term “treble-y.” The flavor came in waves, pricking my tongue like tiny thorns. After getting over that initial unpleasant sensation, however, the body of the brew was very full, which is more than I can say for other coffee I’ve had at this price. Unfortunately, I became disappointed once more as the aftertaste began to develop–the linger had an almost chemical quality to it. I found myself drinking much faster than I usually would, just to avoid the taste it left in my mouth.

All this being said, the staff was very friendly, the service was great, and the cup looked cool. Part of me wishes I happened upon a bad brew and that the rest of their menu is decent, but I don’t know if I’ll be back to see for myself.

 

The “Jessup Farm Artisan Village” has never intrigued me enough to make me want to visit. Their rural-but-trendy-but-also-sterile aesthetic has never really been my speed, not to mention that it’s fairly out of the way from where I usually commute.

However, one part of the complex I knew I needed to stop by at some point was Bindle Coffee. From friends to family to other baristas, I’ve heard nothing but good things about it–and I figured what better introduction to Bindle than a simple cup of black coffee?

As I opened the door and stepped inside, I was pleasantly surprised by the interior design. Warm lighting shone down from the wooden walls, which were adorned with unique art and found objects. The shelves behind the counter were stacked up high, and stocked full of cups and condiments. It was cozy, but not claustrophobic, and had much more personality than the rest of the complex.

I stopped to look over their menu, and after some deliberation, opted for a $4 pour-over brew of a seasonal Ethiopian blend they had available. I had never had a pour-over before, so I wasn’t sure what to expect, but the tasting notes listed on the counter were “Butterscotch, Tropical, and Juicy.”

The barista brought out my drink shortly, and I was immediately impressed with its presentation–definitely a far cry from the styrofoam cup I suffered through last week. I took my first sip.

“Juicy,” although a seemingly strange descriptor for coffee, really is the only way to describe the initial taste of this brew. It had a sour quality to it, but it was something you felt more than you tasted. Citrus notes started to develop. I don’t know if my palate is advanced enough to detect that it was “Tropical” citrus I was tasting, but the sweetness it lent complemented the sourness nicely. My favorite note was the subtle sweetness that developed in the aftertaste, what I could only assume was the butterscotch coming through. I sat and savored my drink for a good while.

Overall, this was an excellent cup of coffee. While I’ve historically never been a fan of “fruity” coffee, something about this specific blend made me learn to appreciate how those flavors can be incorporated without being too overbearing. I’ll definitely be back for more.

Look, I know this might not be what you’d expect from a Fort Collins-based coffee review blog, but on this blog, I want to be honest, and if we’re being honest, sometimes you get desperate for a caffeine fix, and the only thing available is the gas station across the street.

This particular Shell gas station has saved me from falling asleep in class many times, but this time I wanted to return with a critical eye and analyze how good their black coffee actually was.

I was somewhat disappointed as I approached the counter and saw that the only brews available were the “Columbian” and a “Decaf,” with 8 or so other empty heaters where other flavors were usually kept (I had seen a blueberry muffin flavor last year that made me equal parts fearful and curious). However, I know a little bit about Columbian coffee, and paid my $1.40 or so expecting a medium roast with maybe a little sweetness or nuttiness to it.

The first sip wasn’t bad enough to spit it out, but as I swallowed, I was filled with an overwhelming sense of sadness.

Its mouthfeel was the first thing I noticed–it was thin and watery, but slipped down my throat in an almost oily fashion. Up front, there was barely any flavor to speak of, and only with the aftertaste was a bitter linger revealed. I’m no stranger to bitter drinks, and I like a fair few of them, but this was decidedly the bad kind of bitter–like someone had accidentally sprinkled charcoal into the filter before it was brewed earlier that morning.

While I was there I had also grabbed an “International Delight Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup” Creamer out of curiosity, but not even that was enough to redeem this cup of coffee. A friend described the taste post-creamer as if “someone left a single Reese’s Cup in a glass of milk for a day.”

The one positive thing I’ll say about this cup of coffee is that it had me shaking with energy half an hour after I finished it–and I do hate to say it, but the next time I need quick caffeine here at school, Shell will probably be where I begrudgingly buy it.