Having been inspired via an influx of Italian migrants after 1945 who evolved the traditions of their home country, Australia has become known and revered for its coffee culture and for the most part, it proves to be hard to not appreciate the obsession with quality product and presentation, which seems essentially to be the melange of the better bits of what coffee bean related culture of this earthround has to offer.

Given the smorgasbord of quality café offerings, chain stores like Starbucks never stood a chance in Australia and the scene is quite competitive. Ever since I moved down under, a day has to go by where I do not kickstart my day with a triple espresso shots skim Flat White made with skill and precision.

Needless to say, I am passionate about places that have established themselves to become outlets for great coffee, especially when those place are dedicated to transparency at the origin and farm level.

Established sixteen years ago, Mecca Coffee is an entity that made the effort to not merely look at how factors like altitude and oil have a tangible impact on flavour nuances, but dug deeper to inform a holistic approach to sourcing their beans in a bid to honour the whole community of contributors whose endeavours result in the black gold we enjoy.

Mecca Coffee’s House blend is a combination of Estrella del Norte, Huila, Colombia and Mountain Capixaba, Espirito Santo, Brazil and what tickles the receptors on the top of the mouth is a well-calibrated melange of honeycomby, milk chocolatey nuances, which are  interweaved by refreshing orangey highlights.

Mecca Coffee’s Moonwalker Blend is a suitable go-to for milk based coffee with its classic blend profile comprised of Mountain Capixaba, Espirito Santo, Brazil and  Mamut, Huila, Colombia beans, which results in a richer, dark chocolatey flavour profile with a crescendo of layered dark berry highlights and nutty pecan pie, rounded out by a reverberating  orange zesty finish.

Nuddy Coffee

Quentin Tarantino is fabled to be a coffee aficionado, which would explain why coffee references are omnipresent throughout his oeuvre, specifically in Pulp Fiction, where in one of the more prominent coffee related scenes Jules quips:
“Mmm! God damn, Jimmie! This is some serious gourmet shit! Usually, me and Vince would be happy with some freeze-dried Taster's Choice, but he springs this serious gourmet shit on us! What flavour is this?” 

How this is relevant to Nuddy Coffee you ask?

Well, because I felt the same way about when I first got a taste of their flavourful and fresh expressions, which are more often than not a carefully calibrated melange of different expressions, culminating in their very own DNA with a crema that is their special twist.

Take for example Nuddy’s Kings Canyon variant, an ode to the majestic sandstone massive that graces the red centre in Australia’s Watarrka National Park, which serves as an impressive canvas on which the sun transforms the scenery as daylight wanes. 

Nuddy captures the phenomenon via combining the attributes of complex coffees from Papua New Guinea and Guatemala, resulting in a medium dark roast with subtle nuances of  dark chocolate, burnt toffee and juicy berry highlights, which make the experience of having a cuppa a flavourful journey that invites to daydream.

I like my coffee strong and hence love Nuddy’s Broken Hill expression, which not unlike the “Silver City” and unofficial capital of the Australian Outback it is named after, carries rugged, rustic and robust characteristics.

The Broken Hill variant has a kick to it, which is derived from the combination of two intense, high-quality Arabica and Robusta coffee varieties. 

By roasting the aforementioned source coffees dark, not only the landscape of Broken Hill is matched but a foundation is created on which delicate nuances of peanut butter, cocoa and caramel dance individually only to be ultimately married to a whole that is much more than the mere sum of its components.

If you appreciate your coffee giving you a jolt, you would find yourself hard pressed not being impressed by how this full bodied powerhouse with its deep nutty and slightly bitter flavours not only satisfies in the flavour department but puts a spring in your step with the strong finish it culminates in.

Equally as impressive in its own way is Nuddy’s Nullarbor roast: A blend of carefully curated source coffees from Guatemala and Brazil informs the coffee equivalent of Nullarbor’s earthy colour palate via flavours that traverse deep chocolate territory via a well-calibrated bitterness to hazelnutty nuances. The medium dark roast works well as the core of a Flat White or, the way I like it best, a formidable double espresso.

Nuddy’s sophisticated approach to channelling their alchemy in the creation of specific and unique flavour profiles also extends to the coffee related accessory they design themselves.

Case in point: Their Fellow Joey cup, which is a thing of beauty that will add an aesthetic edge to the bland, branded mug collection of any coffee aficionado: Double walled in a bid to retain heat and avoid exterior condensation, white ceramic majestically rests on a foundation that is a polished, gleaming copper base.

If your love for coffee is profound and you appreciate a sustainable, sophisticated and artisanal effort that goes beyond of what other roasters proffer, you would regret not checking out Nuddy Coffee’s offerings whenever the chance presents itself.

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Waiting for Verdi: Opera and Political Opinion in Nineteenth-Century Italy, 1815-1848

University of California Press

Giuseppe Verdi and his oeuvre stands for more than merely operatic excellence, with the trio of La Traviata, Il trovatore and Rigoletto having become some of the most appreciated and timeless creations of the genre. 

Apart from the mainstream appeal, Verdi’s operas had more often than not a prominent political tinge with the reunification of Italy being a recurring theme, resulting in the dilemma that his artistic output cannot really be separated from his political convictions.

With Waiting for Verdi Mary Ann Smart examines the context an impact of Verdi’s operas and their theatrical incarnations along with the reactions and controversies they spurned, not only when It came to evoking intense feelings but by inspiring Italians to believe in the DNA and strength of Italian traits and how their faith and actions could catapult Italy to the forefront of European countries through political change.

By meticulously analysing how Verdi structured his operas via employing canto forms and a wide range of innovative variations to achieve result oriented performances, Mary Ann Smart leads the attentive listener down a rabbit hole on a journey that assists in both illuminating facets and gaining fresh and stimulating perspectives on Italian opera and music at large.

After reading Waiting for Verdi and following Smart’s cultural and aesthetical analysis, I revisited his catalogue and found a new appreciation for how passionate Verdi was in weaving his devotion to Italy, romanticism and political convictions into each note and felt how as a musical vehicle must have helped shape Italy as a nation in the second half of the nineteenth century.

The Formative Years – Wipers

There are many bands that could be considered as genre coining in the realm of punk and hardcore, with most of them being considered because they were to first create a certain new sound or style. 

Then there are bands that did the aforementioned and had a “je ne sais quoi” pervade their emissions, which made them stand out amidst a sea of epigones.

Wipers is one of those bands. 

Formed by Greg Sage in 1977, they were considered to be one of first punk bands of Portland without classifying themselves as such and even their earliest recordings convey that music was more for them than mere entertainment and a commodity. Equipped with a dedicated DIY ethic at the core of everything they were doing, including Sage building his own recording equipment, they created their own lane and charged onwards.

Wipers’ debut, Is This Real? was released in 1980 and was still rather formulaic as far as the traditional punk rock approach was concerned, while their second album Youth of America sees them deliberately taking the foot off the gas pedal.  It was still punk but different as it actively defied known tropes. Their third one Over the Edge completes a triumvirate of albums that should really be in the collection of anyone remotely interested in underground guitar driven music.

I have always loved the detachment, disdain, dread, solitude and despair that is inherent in each and every Wipers song, which was only enhanced by the band’s refusal to be categorized, which aided in making their songs timeless hymns of dissatisfaction with the status quo. 

Wipers managed to create goosebumps moments through carefully created sublime sounds, the whole of which accumulated to something bigger than the mere sum of its components.

I was listening to them as a teenager it felt as something intangible was coming off the grooves. Something that resonated with terrifying awe.

Water of Life

Scapa Glansa and Morris Whisky

Founded in 1885 and being located only a few hundred metres away from Highland Park, Scapa distillery is one of Scotland’s most northern distilleries. 

My first and so far only exposure to Scapa was through a dram of their rare16 year old expression at a Breitling event not too long ago, which instantaneously coloured me intrigued by the flavour profile.

Needless to say, when I learned about Scapa having a peated expression on its portfolio paired with the fact that its name, i.e. “Glansa”, roughly translates to the equivalent of “shining storm-ridden skies”, it set me on a mission to see how the small manually operated Orcadian Distillery channelled its alchemy in maturing its signature malt in American oak to then further refine it cask that previously harboured peaty whisky.

Clocking in at a relatively tame 40 % ABV, the stylish and visually appealing presentation of the box and labelling sets the scene for what is meant to demonstrate the contrasts of the highlands.

What tickles the nostrils on approach are aromas of grassy freshness and exceptionally lush fruity notes, contrasted by nuances of ashy peat, a distinct vanilla oakiness and cigar smoke.

On the palate, the medium-bodied amber coloured drop unfolds its complexity via zesty citrus, ripe peachy and breakfast cereal notes, which are married with a delicate oaky spiciness and maritime salty notes set against a backdrop of an interesting peaty smoke variant – interesting in that it is mild, subtle and much more subdued than what one is used from Islay whiskies where the smoke is derived from smoked barley. 

A spicy kick constitutes a climax before things are rounded out by returning to a Haribo-esque sweetness.

The nicely calibrated elongated finish is dominated by the peat taking over yet not remotely in an overwhelming manner: It rather serves as a stage on which the sweeter highlights dance with spices, before a markedly charred fruitiness reverberates and leaves one lusting for another dram.

I quite like the complexity and the journey across the mainland of Orkney this little number takes one on, starting in fruity territory, moving things to the seaside and taking the DNA of Scapa’s core expression to the next level by adding a level of depth via the subtle smoke component – just at the right level to not eclipse what the distillery stands for.

Summa summarum, a fantastic and accessible gateway to the wonderland of peated whiskies and testament to what Scapa is capable of when branching out while staying true to its delicate characteristic malt profile. 

I can only imagine the lofty heights Glansa could be catapulted into if it was bottled at cask strength.

One can only hope that Glansa is merely the beginning of new offerings from a great, often overlooked distillery.

Morris Whisky

Claiming that there are a lot of interesting developments within the confines of the Australian distilling landscape, would be an understatement par excellence. The sheer number of new distilleries with their distilled emissions pushing of what is considered possible is staggering.

Needless to say, I was colored intrigued when I learned about award decorated Morris of Rutherglen, an estate traditionally known for its fortified wines, venturing into the realm of single malt whisky with two debut releases, i.e. their Signature and Australian Single Malt Muscat Barrel Whiskies. 

All the more so given that word around the campfire had that former master distillers from such reputable entities like Balvenie, Laphroaig, Springbank and Kilchoman had been consulted to help finetune Morris’ technical approach to their distilling process. 
The fact that price-wise both expressions are situated on the modest end of the scale in the highly taxed and smaller scale environment that is Australia, where normally a 500ml bottle would set you back in excess of $200, also bode well for Morris’ debut to make a bit of a splash on the scene.

With barley being locally sourced, water from the snowy Mountains, a unique American and French oak barrel maturation program to boot and a finish in in-house coopered premium barrels which previously held fortified wines, paired with the fact that the Rutherglen region is known its distinct climate with hot days and cold nights, expectations were high in terms of big and complex flavours.
Aged for a minimum of three years and bottled at a standard 40% ABV, Morris’ deep golden Signature expression tickles the nostrils with grainy, grassy, apple and blueberry fruity highlights that dance with citrussy, marzipan and zesty notes against a backdrop of delicate leather andearthy aromas that are further nuanced with cherry characteristics.

On the top of the mouth, the allure of the fortified wine barrels unveil their magic via a melange of honeyed dark chocolate, plums, burnt toffee and dried cranberries in the relatively light bodied drop with a juicy and refreshing mouthfeel. The elongated finish reverberates with nougat, oak and brown sugary caramel flavours.

A well-rounded beautifully composed, multi-layered, sessionable and competitively priced introduction that is bound to make waves.
Matured in shaved and toasted ex-wine casks before finished in soaked ex-muscat casks, Morris’ Muscat Finish clocks in at 46% and greets one with rich, dark molassy sweet and indulgent aromas carrying distinct fig notes.

On the palate, there is a honey-like sweetness with subtle hints of berries and shades of chocolate cookie dough, contrasted by distinctly tannic mouth-coating notes, which culminate in a crescendo of cocoa and cinnamon spice.

The long, full-bodied finish is dominated by charred oaky notes with hints of dried fruits, coffee and nut chocolate making it a dangerously more-ish drop that makes me hope that Morris will continue their journey by branching out with cask strength and peated expressions.

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The Formative Years - Acid House

It was during a family holiday to the sandy beach of Arcachon, southwest of Bordeaux as a prepubescent that I spent a whole summer in the thrall of acid house. 

Days were spent with a female acquaintance in the Dune du Pilat and swimming in the Atlantic, drinking Kronenbourg at brasseries and eating oysters.

At night I snuck out to visit the local bars and being a juvenile delinquent interested in heavy metal and punk rock, there was not much that resonated.

After indulging in Pastis with the older youth of the region, I joined them late at night to visit an inconspicuous warehouse. The squelching sounds and heavy basslines emanating from the inside could be heard from a long way off and while I was not particularly interested in electronic music at the time, it sounded intriguing .

Not long after entering and an initial period of feeling a tad uncomfortable and out of place in a night club context, I was dragged onto the dancefloor with little left but to start moving and do as the Romans do. 

What ensued was an immensely enjoyable night and my first exposure to what I much later on learned to classify as an underground “rave”.

The DJs of the night seemed to explore sonic textures by constantly modulating, altering and manipulating the frequency of simplistic and primal bass patterns, which were interweaved with harsh screeching sounds. When I inquired what style of music it was, “acid house” was the answer.

While I was not intoxicated by any substances, I felt entranced by the collective experience and got lost in the dreamy atmosphere, the thick fog and the intense music, thoroughly enjoying being immersed in a crowd of dancing bodies and sharing personal space.

The collective experience of sound, ambience and bodies created a new sense of belonging and a mind-altering experience, which triggered a lifelong appreciation for electronic music and its powers.