Gingersnap Cold Press: thirsty + throwback Thursday

    Ready for things to get weirdly nostalgic and stuff?

   Okay, well first off, this rather innocuous-looking picture is almost all of what you will need to make this drink, which is, not surprisingly, both coffee and cold.

    This recipe was inspired by two things I thought I would never miss: Minnesota and my mom.

  
  I believe in most cases to miss something, you have to love it. I didn’t think I loved Minnesota, and maybe I don't, but once a place is a backdrop for  happy times and experiences the memories and the place become intertwined, and to desire one is to want the other as well. Or maybe I just don’t want to give Minnesota the satisfaction or the credit she deserves as a charming State.

   I don’t buy into the “Minnesota nice” affectation for a minute. Minnesota is fierce, and hard, and unrelenting, and Minneapolis is colder than the winters are. But sometimes—for a few blinks of an eye it seemed to me, stranger that I was—she is verdant, and dynamic, as if all the life and green that was buried under snow for so long is going to show out and breathe as much and as wildly as possible in those truncated moments. When you mention the State, people usually think of snow, and that is understandable. I couldn’t make myself enjoy the wintry wasteland (or wonderland, depending on whom you ask) that Minnesota became in the winter, but I love her anyways.

That time Iris didn't love walking to Loring Park . . .

    As for my mom, I’ve always loved her, there was never any doubt of that. But I never thought I would miss her—or any of my family—because that seemed impractical, frivolous, to miss someone you can call, or Skype, or hop a plane and visit if the need arises. There were only two or three times when I lived in Minnesota that I thought I really missed my mom, and at those times I thought myself wildly irrational. Physical affection had never been important to me, so it seemed unreasonable to have any particular longing for the physical presence of a person—ungrateful, almost. We could see and hear each other via Skype, how was that any different than our usual interactions when we lived in the same house?

    I didn’t let myself think about my family, and usually that worked. The only time I could never keep from thinking about my mom was when I got coffee out. Coffee has been a complex social ritual in my family, the drinking of it an initiation, a coming-of-age symbol, and a communion. I started drinking it with my mom at a young age, using it to stay energized and talking on long road trips, or to stay perky while babysitting if my mom’s job kept her away through the night.

 My mom, aunts, and I would get coffee out together any chance we got on visits: even if we didn’t go out, there were pots and pots of coffee run through my Grammy’s coffee-maker, each tart black cup usually diluted with grainy white powdered creamer or the occasional flavored bottle of Celestial Seasonings. A fancy drink from a coffee shop was our treat and consolation when mom and I were out doing errands, and after began working and going to school, running out to grab a coffee and chat was a way to keep in touch. On the weekends, my mom and I imbibed promptly upon waking and again, ritualistically, at two or three o’clock. Coffee was our cult.

Loring Park.

     Located conveniently half-way between Minneapolis and Jack’s hometown of Windom is a winsome little town called St. Peter, and in this little town is a charming coffee shop called River Rock. We always stopped on our way and picked up a coffee, whether it was technically coffee-time or not. Even when finances were somewhat limited a stop was in order—I suppose it felt even more indulgent then. On one particular trip home to Windom, as the seasons were slipping again towards change, River Rock debuted a latte called the Cozy Sweater. I had literally drunk mine before we got out of St. Peter, which means it was gone in a few blocks (St. Peter is lots of things, but large is not one of them).

     The drink was delicious, a gingery espresso concoction sweetened with molasses. How genius is that?! Besides being caffeinated and tasty, it made me think of autumn and winter at home. Despite not really liking ginger, my mom made amazing molasses cookies. I began fantasizing about sitting at River Rock with my mom, about what drink she would pick, what she would talk about. I imagined sitting in the shop until it got dark and they were ready to close, gabbing and laughing.

     I got the Cozy Sweater both hot and iced, and it was always amazing. I’ve moved back to North Carolina, though I am still hours away from my family, and I find I miss them more now. Or, perhaps I’m being more honest now.

    At any rate, the convergence of these two things is the catalyst for this recipe. I miss River Rock, I miss drinking coffee with my mom, and, greatest surprise at all, I miss Minnesota—Lake Calhoun and start-and-stop rides down Franklin on a Metro Transit bus and walking up the stairs at the Hennepin County library with my eyeballs oriented straight up because the transparent kick boards made me feel like I was going to fall. I want so badly to remember all the things I thought I was so eager to forget when we left. 

Bastille Day: Minneapolis-style.

 

    So, I made my own Cozy Sweater-inspired drink using the two dominant flavors, ginger and molasses, reincarnated in cold press form. Of course, if you have any plans to stop in the St. Peter area any time soon you can order the real deal. But if not, give this a try at home.

    Additionally, sometime since my whole ordeal of growing up and moving away and coming back, my mother has discovered that she now likes ginger. Who knew.

 Gingersnap Cold Press

¾ c coffee, coarsely ground

3 cups H20

About 1 tbsp fresh grated ginger or 1 to 1 ½ tsp dry

Molasses

Almond milk or creamer

 

 In a pitcher, combine grounds and ginger, adding about half the water and stirring to make sure grounds are fully soaked. Add rest of water. Smell the coffee mixture, adding more ginger if it doesn’t have a good gingery smell.

   Cover pitcher and put in fridge, for at least 6 hours, preferably overnight.

   When ready to drink, filter in French press. Pour serving into glass, and add about 1 ½ tbsp molasses, ice and almond milk to taste, and enjoy. Maybe with your mom.