Eat Science Love: The Science of Coffee, by Vanessa Huron

My lovely customer and friend, Vanessa Huron has written an amazing blog about coffee and the science behind it. 

Vanessa's research and understanding in this subject, put forward from the point of view as a PhD student and Scientist, unravels another dimension about this gorgeous pressurized molecular reaction called Espresso, 

and also about the science of steamed milk.

Take your knowledge about this science and art form to the next level, 

and get ready to be mind blown via the link below:

Eat Science Love: The Science of Coffee

An excerpt:

'Let's talk about water temperature. Having the correct temperature is crucial for a good coffee. If the water is too cold, the coffee will be under-extracted and will be, in a word, disgusting. There's a few reasons for this. Firstly, the heat of the water allows for particular volatile compounds to be released from the coffee, giving it that amazing aroma - for the budding chemists, that includes ketones and aldehydes. Secondly, it allows for soluble compounds to contribute to that beautiful taste, which includes caffeine and sugars. Thirdly (and definitely just as important), insoluble compounds are released from the extraction (such as proteins and polysaccharides), which give us the beautiful coffee texture, and the foam that we know as crema.'

My bittersweet life in the hospitality industry

My childhood is a complicated story to tell, but for the very early part of it, and then for the last part of my teenage years, I grew up in the hospitality business.

I was born in 1983.

My parents owned two restaurants. Their first restaurant failed miserably due to a partnership disagreement. The second one took off from the mid-1980s, but came crashing down in the mid-2000s due to mismanagement, although not before becoming a pioneering blueprint for Thai restaurants in Sydney.

Before transferring to Thailand as a result of parental separation, as a young child I remember annoying the kitchen staff because I wanted to help them chop vegetables or decorate dishes. I would then annoy the floor staff because I wanted to serve customers, and eventually annoying the customers because I wanted to sit down and eat with them. 

Back then, for some reason, everyone was pretty relaxed, so I got away with a lot of things, including eating half of the customers' entrées at their tables. 

However, just because I grew up in restaurants didn't mean I wanted to own one. 

Once I graduated, I headed straight for the suit life and swore off hospitality completely for almost a decade. Besides, as much as it was a great memory of my childhood, it was also a rough one. 

It tore my family apart, left me stranded and neglected in Thailand for a good half a decade, and had me picking up the pieces again once I came back to Australia - story for another blog entry.

But you can't run away from what you know so instinctively, and you can't hide away from something that has defined your life for better and for worse. 

As luck would have it, at a turning point in the not too distant past, I faced it again, for a few reasons mostly explained here.

So, having not been to culinary college or barista school, graduated from a business degree, (albeit having dabbled in a few part time businesses in the past) or having ever worked in the hospitality industry, how am I still here, sitting in my café packed full of customers, greeting them between writing this blog?

I guess I got lucky.
..or else I guess all those late nights spent watching chefs prep and cook up dish after dish during service, watching the waiters and waitresses flip table after table in the dining room, and sleeping between table cloths and spare chairs hidden behind the counter whilst waiting for my mother to reconcile the takings for the night meant that my rogue education in hospitality paid off.

Also, my mother ran a tight ship, but she was also kind and generous. She was flexible with shifts, paid everyone on time, and she even drove every staff member home late at night to make sure of their safety at the expense of her time and energy - I definitely took all of this on board, because I understood that the success of the business starts with the happiness and morale of your staff.

Therefore, half a decade later, with two highly coveted awards in the industry and a number of positive reviews and spotlight features in both online and offline publications, my rogue education in the art of the restaurant business has proven to be effective. 

Having said all of the above, I wouldn't have known this about myself until I finally listened to my heart and built my own restaurant after having sworn off the industry for all these years.
It was like I had unlocked a vault I kept shut all these days from denial, and found a treasure of mine that I never knew I had kept inside.

It's funny how life works sometimes, right?
Blessings in disguise?
I'm just grateful that I've discovered this about myself sooner than later, and had the opportunity to see it through.

Coming to America! ...Confirmed!

Sometimes you just gotta take a shot at life, no matter how ridiculous the shot may look, haha!

I FINALLY booked my plane tickets to America! 

I'm coming, baby! 

Woohoo!

Lets talk about my past, just for a little bit.

I had to rush home, because the apartment block that I'm currently living in has no electricity due to a cable blow out this morning from the heavy rain we've been experiencing in the past week so far in Sydney.

..and I'm home earlier than usual because I have a cat.

You see, pets aren't allowed in my apartment block, and I happen to be living in the apartment that has the only manhole to get up into the roof, which is where all the wiring are. 

So after the estate agents called me requesting access into the apartment, I raced home as fast as I could. 

But, thanks to my girlfriend's mum, she got here before I did and hid our cat in our bedroom. Crisis averted.      

Anyways, I'm here now, at home, with the cat hidden in the bedroom while electricians walk in and out of the apartment leaving me with nothing else better to do, so, to pass the time, let me tell you a story of a young boy who walked the streets of Bangkok on his own.

The year was 1995.

Home was this building deep in the catacombs of Bangkok. 

This building had a lot of 'live in' staff. 

It housed a factory, a factory with machines that produced clothes. 

Most staff members lived in little rooms tucked in corners throughout the factory.

Those that didn't have rooms just camped out on the floors of the factory. Most used industrial stock rolls of fabric as blankets and pillows. 

Yes, I lived in one of these. 

I believe they are called sweat shops from a western point of view, but for us, it was more like boarding school. 

I was always rushing home so I didn't miss dinner time at the factory. 

Most nights I was late because I went to school on the other side of Bangkok, and the fact that the traffic in Bangkok doesn't allow cars to go faster than 50 kilometers an hour at the best of times meant that I was always going to be late home, regardless.  

Because of this, I had to hit the streets myself to find dinner, with a handful of cash to buy a meal and a pocket knife for protection. 

I was eleven. 

To make my life a bit easier, I would make friends with the street vendors, the shopkeepers, the local kids and the stray dogs. Even the shady characters in the dark alley ways recognized who I was, 

'the neighborhood kid'; 

not poor enough for the slums, but not rich enough to have his own bed, yes, I shared a bed, ..but at least I had one.

No one gave me trouble. 

Through their eyes, I was one of them. Struggling, but not crying about it.

Suffering, but smiling through it. 

We'd look out for each other because we were all we had. 

Being selfish wasn't an option if you wanted to survive here.

I would walk through lanes where illegal activity were conducted; hustlers, alcoholics and dealers of certain products. 

The ice cream vendor was even in on it, whom at night had a side business in the gambling industry, conveniently embedded in his cart. I would put a punt or two just for kicks if I passed him on the streets.

I never won any money, but he always gave me a free popsicle so I didn't leave empty handed.

That night, I was deep in the slums bringing food for my friend who didn't have any dinner to eat. 

For that night, no one had to go to sleep hungry, and no one had to feel like they were in it alone. 

When I came home, the owner of the factory had already locked down the building, but one of the metal doors was still open.

He was waiting there for me to return, and he wasn't pleased that he had to wait.

Needless to say, he had put the fear of god in me afterwards for breaking curfew.

But, at least I went to bed knowing my friend had something to eat.

As I reminisce, I am reminded that:

In the poorest of places resides the most generous of people. 

..and that my childhood was full of valuable lessons, in which I'm slowly understanding now. 

(The above photo is me with my friends. I'm the one on the far left getting down on the shot. Nothing has changed much lol)

The Zen of Pocket Billiards

I love pocket billiards,

specifically the game of Pool,

especially Nine ball Pool.

The game of 'Nine ball' consists of nine object balls, all sequentially numbered, and a cue ball.

Using the cue ball, the goal is to pocket all the object balls in sequence starting from the lowest number onwards, with the last ball (the ninth ball) being the 'Money ball'.

This also means that if you were to sink the ninth ball without committing a foul during your turn, 

even with other object balls still on the table, you can automatically win the game. 

Anyways, I'm not here to teach you how to play pocket billiards. 

I'm here to talk about what I've learnt from it.

Just like the game of life, 

there are a sequence of prerequisites that you should see through before you take aim at your target goal.

These could come as completing school or university, forming relationships, getting a qualification, learning a skill, broaden your horizons through traveling, or investing your time and/or money towards your future.

But, no matter what you're working on at the time, you must always try to position yourself well, so you can take a good aim at the next shot. 

The intention is to always be thinking about the next move, 

all the while having the ultimate goal in sight. 

However, nothing is stopping you from risking everything, 

skipping all the set prerequisites, using what you have and go for the 'Money ball'.

On the other hand, 

even if you do complete every prerequisite laid out on the table, you could also make a simple mistake and lose it all. 

Life can be like that sometimes. 

That's what makes it challenging yet beautiful. 

As long as you enjoy every shot you take at it, make the important shots count, and remember that there's always next time.

Just like a game of Nine ball.

Footnote:

Apparently, the game of nine ball is quite popular in North America. Unlike in the EU countries, or even Asia pacific (including Australia and the pacific islands) where the game of 'Eight ball' reigns supreme, 

America, especially continental US, are more fond of this strategic game when it comes to pocket billiards. Another variation to this game is Ten ball, which is quite popular amongst the competing professionals, or if you're really, really old school, you'll have heard of 'Seven ball' as well. 

Either way, I'm excited to have a few games of Nine ball while I'm traveling the US, pretending to be a touring pool hustler like Paul Newman in the movie 'The Hustler' or Tom Cruise, in the movie 'The Color of Money',

but like they say, "it's all fun and games until someone loses their balls" 

Why diabetes?

I only have a few weeks now before my journey begins in the US, and as part of my travels, I've applied to be a volunteer for the Juvenile Diabetes Research Foundation (JDRF) and the American Diabetes Association (ADA).

No, I don't have diabetes.

Although, like many who have a strong connection to support causes in health care; Breast Cancer research, ALS, or Alzhiemers Disease, mine is with Diabetes.

So,

without further ado,

Here's why:

I became interested in diabetes in 2007 after meeting Hannah. I remember spending several hours doing research on this illness so I could have a better understanding of my dance partner. 

She used to carry around snacks, and tested her blood glucose levels (BGL), especially before and after our ballroom dance competitions. 

We spent a lot of time together, six days a week to be exact. When weren't training, we were taking lessons. when we weren't taking lessons, we were teaching. Otherwise, we were just hanging out at the dance studio looking at ourselves in the mirror, working on movements, filming them and being silly.

Then one day our friend, [also a ballroom dancer] was diagnosed with Type one Diabetes (T1D) at the age of 14. During that time, we would visit her in hospital, and at the time, my knowledge about T1D was pretty much limited to what I read on wikipedia and WebMd, which wasn't much at all, so Hannah did most of the talking.

In saying that, Hannah didn't speak up much about her diabetes. Besides from seeing her testing and treating lows, the only time it came up was the couple of times when I'd be at the studio waiting for her only to be advised that she was in hospital after a hypoglycemic episode which happened overnight. 

So, I'd stay to do some practice by myself then I'd go home to do more research on diabetes, this time specifically more on hypos and hypers, specifically the whys and hows. 

However, when Hannah was back at the studio again, I never approached her about wanting to understand more. My impression was that she wanted to keep it private, and I respected that so no further questions were asked. 

I also got to know another person with Diabetes (PWD) through ballroom dancing, and again, I never drummed up the courage to approach her about the topic. 

At the time, I discovered Kerri Sparlings blog: SixUntilMe, which helped me fill in a few blanks. She also made me aware that T1D isn't just about being insulin dependant, but also about the struggles and victories that PWD's deal with mentally and psychologically on a daily basis. 

As a result, I understood how important it was to be supportive above anything else.

I stayed informed, but not intrusive.

Hannah and I caught up recently, and I told her about this blog entry and whether it'll be alright if I wrote about her using her real name, instead, she gave me this:

" I don't talk a lot about my diabetes, as a teenager it was embarrassing to be different but now I see it in a new light. I think it's important for people to know I have T1 diabetes as a measure of safety, but I do not let it define me!

That's my only advice to other sufferers. No you cannot ignore it. (which I often did and that was why I would end up in hospital.) I haven't had any issues or hospitalisation in years and that's because I accept it as a part of me. 

I don't look at it as a fault, instead as a quirk or my imperfection - We all have one don't we?
I don't think people that know me would say 'oh she's a diabetic!', instead, they'd say; 

'fun, charismatic, incredibly clumsy and carefree!' 

My personality, drive and morals is what defines me.

You're stuck with it until they find a cure so you got to accept it at some point!

I control diabetes rather than diabetes control me! "

Hannah and I danced together for almost three years. We trained hard, and towards the end, we were winning most of our competitions in ballroom dancing. We also taught Salsa dancing once a week, and did performances up until I had to leave the partnership to focus on my restaurant business the middle of 2010. 

Hannah continued on with dancing, and to date, she is still competing and winning. I'm so proud of her achievements not only as a dancer, but also as a young professional. 

Then came Mallette, 

the superstar Barista of Duke's Lounge for the summer of 2014. 

(Not a ballroom dancer this time, but she has a hidden talent for salsa dancing.)

The day she came in for a trial I noticed she had a device clipped to her waist. I asked her about it, and she told me it was an insulin pump as she's a type one diabetic, 

and just like that, my eyes lit up. 

She was armed with an Animas OneTouch Ping Insulin Pump and a Dexcom G4 CGMS which blew my mind as I've never seen [or knew of] these devices before in my life.

So after her trial shift concluded, I quickly dug up my notes from four years ago and started to read about T1D again that very night. 

Now, with an updated understanding of T1D, I couldn't wait to see her again. 

First and foremost, she was an outstanding candidate with exceptional skills in the hospitality and service industry, along with having a high business acumen.

Secondly, I wanted to witness this miracle called Insulin Pump Therapy (IPT), 

so I quickly hired her and trained her up as a Barista.

From a distance, without being a creep, [which is probably too late to say now] I would watch her count carbs and bolus for a meal, adjust her basal rate, check her CGM and calculate corrections after testing throughout the day. 

When she wasn't looking I would take a quick glance at her CGM, awestruck by this technology. 

But, I slowly learnt to read the graph, the numbers and the arrows and knew roughly when it was a good time to ask her if she wanted coffee, or whether it's a good time to ask if she wanted lunch. 

I also stocked up our fridge with a dozen juice boxes at a time, making sure I rotated the flavours once she went through a certain amount. 

I also confess that I drank a few myself. 

Eventually, without further hesitation, I brought up the topic of T1D with her. 

Aside from making a fool of myself like forgetting that butter has no carbs, Mallette was very open to discuss about it. 

Along with high fiving each other everytime her BGLs were on point,

we started with standard topics first such as how generic test strips will enhance care and manageability especially for PWDs in lower economic situations as long as they were reliable, 

and why the Thai green curry she had the other night screwed her numbers up. 

We also discussed how convenient it would be to have one site/one infusion set for both the pump and the CGM. (In which I believe Medtronic are on top of that now with the Minimed Duo for the EU market, while we wait patiently for the FDA to approve it for the US) and we were pretty excited to hear about the trials and success of the bionic pancreas system which uses both insulin and glucagon together to simulate a healthy pancreas.

We even played the BGM countdown game once at a bolus worthy pie shop.

..Finally! 

after years of keeping it to myself, I got to come out of the closet and was able to speak to someone about my 'type none' diabetes. 

Yes, I know, I'm slightly creepy. 

Mallette worked for me for about six months. 

She's now back in the US attending medical school and being a part time marathon runner.

As a matter of fact, I'll be watching her run the Chicago marathon this year in October, and hope to catch up with her afterwards again in her hometown to win a chess game we left unfinished in Sydney, just to even out the scores, 

because I hate losing, 

especially when it comes to chess.

Moving on,

Because of this, I felt confident and aspired to learn more, and so I stumbled upon the Diabetes Online Community (#DOC) while obsessing over the medical technology in Diabetes (#DTech) and saw how the push to open data inspired 'Databetes' and 'CGM in the cloud', and manifested the #wearenotwaiting movement, initiated by the Do It Yourself Pancreas System (#DIYPS), and the NightScout Project.

From there it lead me to follow blogs on Diabetes (#DBlogs) and its authors, which lead me to the Diabetes Social Media Advocacy (#DSMA.) 

Furthermore, who could forget the amazing #showmeyourpump movement lead by the most beautiful; Sierra Sandison, aka Miss Idaho,

and the announcement of 'phase 1/2' trial of the encapsulated beta cell replacement therapy, lead by ViaCyte and the JDRF.

I also was mind blown with the 'Threshold Suspend' feature lead by the MiniMed 530G Medtronic pump with Enlite sensor, the first of its kind to be approved by the FDA. 

..and the exciting news about the Tandem TSlim and Dexcom integration. 

..so on and so forth!

So now,

including advocating awareness through my online and offline resources, 

I also attend a few #DOC chats weekly, such #DSMA and the occasional #HCSM to 'listen in' and broaden my knowledge. 

Otherwise I'm devouring information on Dblogs and websites such as DiaTribe, asweetlife and DiabetesMine, and attending online webinars [the latest being about Insulin Pump Essentials]. 

Needless to say, I follow a whole bunch of PWDs and T1D advocators, HCPs and carers on Twitter, and I'm grateful to have the blessings of everyone for allowing me to listen and learn from their experiences.

Lastly,

Thank you for teaching me that T1D isn't caused by ballroom dancing.

From the bottom of my heart, @Dukeslounge

My obsession with coffee - Part one

I just swallowed a tablet, chased by a fine Colombian single estate filter coffee, made using freshly ground beans to the consistently that matches sand. It was Infused with filtered water resting 96 degrees celcius, through an Aeropress at a 1:10 ratio using the reverse technique, then extracted within 25 seconds - ...Blah blah blah.

So, if you know me, you'd know how much I love coffee. 

In saying that, I'm not one to be fussy about it. As long as it enhances my immediate experience, 

such as grabbing a Starbucks 'caramel Macchiato' at an airport, or a shot of Ristetto in the alley ways of Melbourne, either way I'll be very happy. 

Because, as someone who's passionate about hospitality, and; 

'as a cook, smells and tastes are my memories' [said Anthony Bordain], I live to experience life through those senses as much as I can. 

So without doubt, I am looking forward to drinking filter coffee at random roadhouses and diners across the US. No matter how good or bad it may be, as long as it adds to this special memory, either way,

I'll be very happy. 

Six more weeks!

Five years ago

The year was 2010. 

I was deep into my career as a banker, at the time doing trade settlements and reporting for one of Australia's largest finance firm. 

I landed here after crashing burning at my last role,

working in investment banking operations for a Swiss bank, which at the time was ranked as one of the top four banks in the world, and it almost drove me insane.

  

Truth is, I actually didn't want to start my adult life working in banks.

As a matter of fact, I didn't even study finance, but instead I studied Real Estate [diploma in Property] which allowed me to be a registered and licensed real estate agent if I chose to be one, and be to honest, I was quite passionate about the property industry. 

However, as destiny dictates, instead, I got thrown in the engine room of what (apparently) drives our world, investment banking. 

For a moment in time, I would be lying if I said I didn't love the banking industry. 

I mean, what more could a twenty one year old male ask for? 

I had money, I was working in one of the worlds largest bank, and I was living above my means. (as you do when you're young and none the wiser)

Was I passionate about banking? Sure I was! 

After all, it was my chosen career at the time, and boy did I work my ass off to earn my keep. 

Back then, my cousin came to Sydney all the way from Chicago, taking a gap year to get away from the daily grind and focus on his passions. 

..and my uncle, a World War Two veteran (and the man who raised me) was in hospital. 

I promised myself to spend more time with him as much as I could, especially towards the end of his life, as it was. 

Then, in the winter of 2009, my world came crashing down.

I had hit the sixth year of being in banking and I became absolutely burned out. 

I was busy all the time for no important reason, and I also had enough of the office so I quit my job, 

..just in time to receive a phone call informing me that my uncle has passed.

I was furious.

With further heartache,

I look back and realize I didn't dedicate enough time for my cousin. I really could've taken him places around Australia, but I didn't, because I was busy. The same goes with my uncle, I barely had enough time for him, and now he's gone forever, all because I was too busy working and didn't realize what was truely important in life - friendship and family.

It was hard to process, all this loss and regret, so I did what most people do and self destruct. 

The recipe for my self destruction consisted of:

Quitting my job,

obtaining an empty commercial premise,

emptying out my bank account,

and sporting a 'nothing to lose' mindset.

I bought a hammer and a set of construction tools, dismantled all of the furniture and fittings, bought gallons of paint and went to town with it.

To fuel my motivation and inspiration, I setup a sound system and played my cousins mixtapes, I put a photograph of my late uncle up, and wheeled my motorcycle inside.

When I felt like a needed a break, I'd drive to the sea to remember my Uncle, look out towards the horizon and just cry. 

I cried a lot during that period.

I remember being on top of a ladder, painting the ceiling, crying at the same time. 

Wiping my tears with dirty rags that stung my eye, I cried even more. 

Everything I did ended in tears, quite literally. 

I was emotionally fragile, I was sleep deprived, combined with being intoxicated by paint thinner and all sorts of construction chemicals, I was just a big ball of mess.

However, a few people recognized that there was something going on, and instead of interrogating me, they helped me out. 

Some pooled their money together and brought me restaurant furniture, some pulled up the floor boards and installed plumbing and electricity. They gave me a brand new glass door, a commercial oven, al fresco dining set, coffee supplies ...and the list goes on.

I didn't create Duke's Lounge.

It was always there, waiting to materialize, 

waiting for my uncle on his death bed to tell me;

"Do what you love, and do it well."

I also learnt that family doesn't have to be blood related. 

Forever grateful.

Coming to America! ...I hope!

I haven't organised a thing yet, other than getting my international drivers license, and that was almost two months ago. 

Yes, I'm planning to drive, driving a lot, just keep chasing the horizon until there's a reason to stop. 

Otherwise,

I'm excited.

I'm excited to see my cousin, who's like a brother to me. He is getting married in October, and I plan to be there for the most important day of his life. 

I'm excited to see my family; my aunt and uncle, who bought me my first pair of light up LA Gear sneakers back when I was living in Thailand, and posted them to me all the way from Chicago.

I'm excited to catch up with all those who've meant so much to me in the past few years.

Those that gave me their all, 

and those that gave me a second chance at life.

Those that reignited my passion, 

gave me hope and carried me over when I almost couldn't continue on.

They were my Baristas. 

Considered as business partners to me, my top guns, my best of the best. 

Now, they are my friends and family who will forever have a special place in my heart, and I will sacrifice everything for them as they have for me. 

I'm forever grateful and will always be at their disposal. 

..and lastly, 

I'm excited to catch up with myself. It's been awhile since myself and I had time for each other.

I can't wait,

I'm coming to America and I'll be in Chicago by the start of October, then,

who knows...:)