I'm not a coffee drinker, but the drinks you get at coffee shops seem really confusing to me. Espressos, Lattes, Macchiatos (which I thought was the guy from The Karate Kid), Caffe Mochas, Cafe Breves, Americanos. The terminology might be second hand to someone who works at such a shop (we hope) but I bet can be confusing even to someone who orders the drinks regularly.

Luckily, we have pictures! Lokesh Dhakar has a handy chart that explains what each drink looks like. I really need this to be done with other aspects of my life, so I can keep track of everything and know just what is in the food I eat, the books I read, and the movies I go to see.

[via Boing Boing]

I far prefer to stop at a Starbucks than a fast food restaurant when I am on a long drive because, most of the time, I will pack my own snacks are simply want to get a drink. I'd rather have the extra caffeine of a coffee versus a soda and prefer the far-better taste of freshly prepared coffee than the "coffee" that comes out of a dispenser at the gas station convenience store. Starbucks also generally tend to have well-maintained bathrooms, which I appreciate.  But unless I really need to stretch my legs, I will find myself pulling up to the drive-thru window at many highway-side Starbucks. Driving thru takes about the same amount of time as going inside the store, with the added benefit that you do not have to get up. This is especially useful when it is cold outside and you don't want to put on several layers to walk a few hundred feet to the door.

I went to graduate school in Philadelphia, and lived only a few blocks from the famed La Colombe Torrefaction. I was a student, it was far too hip for me - but I did stop in once or twice for a croissant and what Food & Wine Magazine calls their "silky cappuccino," naming the caffeinated hotspot the top U.S. coffee "bar."

So coffee is served at bars, not shops, now? The magazine also picks Ritual Coffee Roasters in San Francisco, Ninth Street Espresso in the East Village, New York; Aloha Island in Beverly Hills and Ruta Maya in Austin. Naturally I think they're ignoring some legendary spots here in Portland (hello, aren't we coffeeville?), like Stumptown Coffee and Ristretto Roasters.

As I've only quaffed java at one of their top five spots, though, I can hardly be a judge. What do you all think: are they missing anyplace else that's truly paradise in a French Press?

I'm the sort of woman who falls in love easily. Never fear, my husband's honor isn't in any danger. No, I fall in love with proprietors of cafes, coffee shops, and bakeries. I flit from one to the next, never falling out of love exactly, but giving my heart - and my dollar - far more fully to whoever's the newest sweet-o-my-heart.

This week, my one true love is Li Doyle, whose name I only know from Googling her. Her establishment is Patisserie Cafe Lili (which should, if I do my French right, be Cafe Patisserie Lili, but - oh well), and it's in the tony antique-shopping neighborhood of Sellwood here in Portland. It's a few miles from my house, and would normally be way out of my way - except for when I make a pilgrimage to "The Bins," the Goodwill outlet (Portland's ultimate thrift experience - oh how I love it).

During my last pilgrimage, I needed coffee, and saw this friendly-seeming cafe only a few blocks away. I parked and ran to the front door only to realize it was still in a pre-grand-opening mess. I walked back to my car, disappointed. I'd opened my door when the owner ran out. "Let me make you a drink!" she said eagerly.

How could I refuse? She chatted eagerly, showing me her almost-completed kitchen and proudly telling of her accomplishment in opening this retail outlet (she's been baking wholesale for years). She fixed me a latte despite her unprepared state. She refused money, making me take my dollars back, and asked me just to come back once the cafe was opened.

It's open now, and you can bet I'll be visiting frequently, far though it is from my daily grind. I'm in love with Li, and while it lasts, she'll be getting all my attention and - most importantly - a good deal of my money.