Note: This entry does not supplant my recommendation to order the French roast from the Ithaca Coffee Company that benefits the Alzheimer’s Association, Central New York Chapter (my employer of record). Click the logo to your left and get movin’ with that.
WASHINGTON, D.C. — I’m a Starbucks guy. Each morning, I roll into the Starbucks Armory Square, where Brandon/Chrissy/Chris/Allie begins scooping ice into a venti cup for my coffee. I could go to the local roaster across the street, but their iced coffee is wretched. Hot coffee? Great. It’s the tops. Iced? I don’t know where it goes wrong, but it does. The last time I had some, uh, digestive distress which had me relocate my office for a couple of hours. Ahem.
As I have mentioned before, I can no longer drink coffee hot. It’s a curse, but it is what it is. Here in D.C. for the next 48 hours, I was looking for a morning caffeine jolt that didn’t come from the mass produced urn of discontent found at conference/banquet facilities across America. I don’t care if it’s Jamaican Blue Mountain or Kona, hotel coffee tastes like they use toilet water to brew and an old lady’s nylons to filter. The nearest Starbucks is 1/4-mile away, which is out of the question for a walk. So, I opted for Open City Coffeehouse across the street from the Omni Shoreham on Calvert.
Open City serves the roast made by their sister coffeehouse Tryst, located a few miles away. The house blend is a smooth, low-acid dark roast. Even with ice, which was asphalt black (as opposed to Dunkin’ Donuts, which looks more like iced tea), the coffee had a thick blackness to it. No bitterness, which I don’t mind. The only sense you have of the fact you are drinking coffee is the bold flavor that hits your mouth.
It is perfect in every way.