I drink regular pour-over coffee, black. It's all about the beans. I'm always stocked at home with single-origin coffees from around the world, never more than two weeks old, kept in airtight containers.
There is not a better day in the world to be spent than with a lot of wise old cowmen around barbecued beef, black coffee and good "free holy" beans.
Vancouver is a coffee-lover's paradise, capable of impressing even the most hyper-caffeinated and jaded New Yorkers, such as myself. The coffee is fantastic, whether I happened to be craving a world-class espresso served with monastic intensity or a single-origin pour-over at a vibrant all-day cafe.
I come from a coffee-loving family, and you can always tell when my sister and I have been around, because both of us collect all the dead coffee from everyone's morning cup, pour it over ice, and drink it. This is a disgusting habit.
Black coffee must be strong and very hot; if strong coffee does not agree with you, do not drink black coffee. And if you do not drink black coffee, do not drink any coffee at all.
Look, I made a commitment to corn 17 years ago. Sure, I'm a man. I like to go to a barbecue and see beans that I like: baked beans, red beans, black beans, big plump garbanzos. But in the end, I always come home to my sweet, sweet corn.
Black beans and soy beans are the cornerstones of longevity diets around the world.
My biggest ritual is writing at home more than on the road. I do very little writing on the road. Actually, it's funny to bring this into it, but one thing I always do is have a cup of coffee. I drink the most coffee when I'm writing songs.
Some people give theirselves a certain number of white weeks once in a year, when they do not drink a single drop of alcohol. It is really wise. I myself have a few weeks per year, let us call them white or black, when I am not interested in the world around. When I come back from this isolation of the news, I realize that I have missed nothing significant. We live in the rain of disinformation and rumors, where the truth is a very small number. In those weeks of dissociation I seek for knowledge that lies within me.
We've gone through many different permutations of coffee-making, from grinding our own beans to the regular drip to an iced coffee maker.
On Saturday mornings I would walk to the Flavor Cup or Puerto Rico Importing coffee store to get my coffee. Often it was freshly roasted and the beans were still warm. Coffee was my nectar and my ambrosia: I was very careful about it. I decanted my beans into glass...and I ground them in little batches in my grinder.
I compost at home. I'm always taking old banana peels, eggshells, coffee beans, or whatever it is, and putting them in a compost bin and then using it in my backyard.
So for me, my vice and big challenge is coffee intake. I drink black, organic coffee, but I drink way too much.
I'm not a single mom with two jobs, trying to get by, every day. I have much more support than most women, around this world, and I have the financial means to have a home and help with care and food.
I have a 22-year-old son, and when my son was born I made a decision to raise him. My husband and I took turns working, and it's easier to raise a kid in the documentary world, where you go away for two weeks or three weeks rather than the months that you spend on a feature. That was and still is much more open to women DPs than the world of fiction.
I just drink regular drip coffee, but I'm kind of a coffee baby.
I don't eat meat, fish, or eggs. I was never a big meat-eater, but I've got more energy now. I eat a lot of tofu, and I drink soy shakes with fruit every morning. I always have soybeans, black beans, or chickpeas for lunch or dinner