The Fog Blog

There are as many variations of social situations in which I'd seek a fog as there are stars in the sky. Happy occasions, sad occasions, and most somewhere in between.  What better way to wish a friend 'safe travels' than with a Fog?  Today's beveragino was acquired from one of the more fancy coffee shops I've ever stumbled into, one where Macha Lattes are the most popular drink order and there are six different milk options. 'When in Rome', I thought, and ordered my London Fog with Oat Milk.  Upon arrival, our twin fogs resembled small, plump, cheerful birds. Cute would be the best word to describe them. The hearts drawn with frothed milk were jolly, to say the least.  The fog was delightful, I will say. The oat milk added more creamy depth than the regular bovine product.  We 'cheersed' our fogs and bid adieu once we had taken the final sip.  8/10 Fog.  

There's truly nothing better than the combination of a fog and a friend. If I had to choose two things to bring with me to a desert island, it would be those two things. The fog probably wouldn't do much to help with my rescue from said island - but if the fog was good enough - why would I want to leave? I have a fog, a friend, and a private desert island. Paradise.  This was my first time in Loafe - and my goodness, I love the presentation. The red just popped, and that font? Completely whimsical. If I could sign my name with such finesse, each federal tax form would be a work of art! My only thought, 'loafe'? I can't tell if it's closer to 'loaf', as in bread, or 'loafers', as in fashionable footwear. I do like the mental picture of loafing in loafers with a loaf and a loafe in hand - so I'll let it slide.  The fog within the cup fulfilled my every wish. Sweet, foamy, plentiful. It's the kind of fog that makes you feel the ground a litt...

 This was a special fog. Brand new to this academic realm, I have been excited to explore all the new cafes on campus.  "Why did you get a warm drink?" It's a valid question. It was a hot day, and I was certainly sweating. However - a Fog is more than just its temperature. London fogs should be hot - how else can they warm the stomach as well as the soul? In the case of iced London Fogs, they should be a cardinal sin of baristal concoctions. Like, huh? Ice cubes and tea? It's... disturbing. Tea takes years to be steeped in cold water. So, do you steep the tea warm, and then cool it down? Think of all the energy wasted... and in this economy?  Forgive me. I've found myself on a tangent.  This fog was fun to drink. Though extremely hot, it had all the right elements. What made it even better was that it was hands and feet better than the coffee that partnered it in the order- I smiled through my friend's complaints of her sub-par tar. I drank the fog with no hes...

This fog was, at the beginning, outrageously underwhelming. I took a couple of sips before realizing the expectations I garnered from my walk over were misplaced. My disappointment was noticeable. The first sip of this fog was alarmingly hot and watery, not at all sweet, and entirely disheartening. I had to excuse myself to use the washroom to recover.  I returned empowered, ready to take my fog's destiny into my own hands. I remembered there were three simple syrup stations sitting beside the counter, which, I decided, could be this fog's saving grace. The moral implications that come from my meddling with my Fog's creation are questionable. Who am I, he who writes, he who judges, suddenly throws away his impartiality in the process and changes the outcome? I don't have an answer, but I'll certainly be thinking about it 3am tonight.  So, throwing my moral quandaries into the wind, I gave my fog three good pumps of simple syrup and tottled back to the table. I took ...

Today's Fog was enjoyed on a frost-covered bench outside one of two identical coffee shops on campus (which happens to be 5 minutes apart from one another -  an urban planner's nightmare). My past history with said coffee shop has been alarmingly positive, where many a good fog was enjoyed - especially compared to other Fog-spots on campus. However, after the first sip - the fog was dull. How terribly, horribly sad.  Once again, I took my fog's fate into my own hands and added some sweetener available at the station nearby. I glanced briefly at the label - honey sweetener - how odd. I shrugged and pumped a few shots before I wandered outside.  A splash of cold, brisk air hit me as I left the warm cafe. My fog warmed my hands. The fog was fairly standard, however, closer to the end the honey began to kick in. It felt like deja vu from three weeks ago when I was battling a cold and an outrageous lemon-honey tea addiction. Honey sweet is very different from sweet-syrup sweet...

The ingredients for a good London Fog are dynamic . The process is not a perfect science, nor is it a simple one. There is no such thing as a 'perfect fog', even though legend may speak otherwise. Great Fogs are made with a stable foundation combined with an element of the sweet, however material its source may be.  I sipped this Fog slowly on a late weekend morning. I had slept little the night before, and my mind was moving as sluggishly as the full grey clouds outside. I wasn't particularly warm, nor was I cold - I was extremely present. This isn't a new feeling for me; usually, it's the direct result of living squarely in my head for an extended period of time.  The fog itself was deeply filling. Though not rejuvenated, I was more grounded than I was before. The world had slowed. The clouds lugged across the sky. Today, the secret ingredient of this fog was a new type of sweetener - like honey - but from a different organism entirely. The name escapes me, though...

  This Fog was much more than a fog today, as they often are. This fog was a catalyst for an odd series of events which made the world a little warmer, as any good fog should do.  I hadn't seen her since I had left for my adventure overseas. It had been a month and a bit. A month of waiting, a month of thinking, a month of feeling, a month of dreaming. I was nervous, of course.  We grabbed our drinks (as we do) and walked to a bench alongside a greenway. We chatted like we always did. The conversation was lively, I was sipping my fog and laughing at equal intervals. I had finished my fog realizing I had tasted none of it, but I didn't care. I was with her, and that was all I wanted. We walked back to her house and said goodbye. I turned around, smiled, and began thinking of the next time I'd get to see her. This is one of my favourite homeostatic states.  I smiled to myself as I walked away, the breeze and the sky, the world made me perfectly content. With every step...

 This was a lovely little moment. Sitting in a coffee shop with a friend of mine called Foglifiters , what a name!! Really got me excited for what fog I'd soon be lifting from their countertop.  First off, the cup was fantastic. What a neat colour, and man what a cool logo! Love that old vintage nautical fine-line design... a pretty high bar for the actual drink. I was pleasantly surprised to find that the fog was actually pretty solid too - nice sweet and fluffy. All in all, it was a pretty solid package, though I would've liked to have a little more in my cup.  7/10 Fog. 

 Not a whole lot of backstory to this nice little Fog friend of mine, who I sipped while hanging with another friend of mine who was a little less fog-like. It's okay, we tolerate each other. The human friend of mine, I mean- not the fog. I could never meet a fog I didn't like.  This Fog was petite and sassy, with a silky smooth layer of foam. It ticked a few boxes for sure, but once I popped open the hood I found a pretty standard fog. It was fine fog, don't get me wrong - but it felt like three children on each other's shoulders in a trenchcoat - too much flair with too little body.  6/10 Fog. 

 No two Fogs are the same, but some are special.  Sometimes Fogs are unique because of different ingredients, maybe a different process. Other times Fogs are different because of the story of how they ended up in your hand, or how it made you feel.  This Fog did both. It was made in the early morning of a weekend day. The rain danced on the sliding doors and the warmth of the soft lights in the kitchen could make anyone feel at home. The Fog was made by someone who cared, and someone who knew it would make me happy. It was made with freshly frothed milk from the espresso machine I'll always remember the sound of, with brown sugar stirred in and teaspoons of real vanilla splashed. The mug was one I actually gave as a gift, only to have it given to me now warm and alive.  I sipped my Fog and smiled at its creator. I felt warm on every front. The Fog was as soft as that feeling, I just hoped it wouldn't ever go away.  9/10 Fog. 

 Every Fog has a story. Maybe it's the beginning of one, maybe it's the end - but a story is always in the making after that first sip, and the warmth rolls down your body like a warm waterslide of love.  This fog had the best foundation, as I was out and about looking at ships in the rain purely because I wanted to. No one knew I was there. It was just me, and the rain, and the ships, and soon, the fog.  Classic Starbucks Fog. Loved waiting in anticipation for it, listening to music no less. I carried it with me on my journey from the ships to my next destination. It followed me and kept my hands warm, calmed me down and reminded me to smile a little more. Things were all working out, they all slid into place, and I knew quietly that the moments ahead of me would be important.  Fogs make you slow down a bit. I appreciated this Fog's ability to do so - though the Fog itself did it completely unintentionally. 7/10 Fog. 

 When is the best time to grab a Fog? Any time is Fog time. Yes folks, even after spending $200 with a friend with the goal of looking spiffy for my escapade to Europe later in the month (#humblebrag), what's 6$ more to fog it up? The coffee shop also had a bathroom which was an added bonus.  This fog was a very straightforward creation: a no-nonsense, fine standard fog. Now, normally I'm a huge fan of basic standard items but sometimes you need some wow... and none came. Maybe it was a me problem, maybe it wasn't the Fog's fault, maybe I was just tired and/or reeling from spending $90 on a shirt. Hard to say.  But. The Fog was fine. It did its job. Just like the shirt - it'll make me hot.  6/10 Fog. 

 When's a fog not a fog?  When it's not a fog. Full stop. No catchy wordplay or joke - a Fog is a Fog a Fog - except when it's not.  This Fog acted as a physical representation of a collision course between two cultures, the West and our weird drinks, and the French trying to make sense of it all. My mother had taken the reins and set her sights on a Parisian Starbucks to make a pit stop, and, was nice enough to order a London Fog for me.  Personally I was ready to cut my losses considering my Mother had just finished explaining for 3 minutes her coffee order complete with sound effects to demonstrate how many creams should be included in hers - but she persisted. She has the charisma and stamina to place any Starbucks order, no matter where, no matter what.  What resulted from her explanation of the beverage (with me standing nearby quietly shaking my head) was earl grey tea with milk. You know what? Close enough.  This... drink in disguise as a Fog was pr...

 There I was, fifteen minutes early for my session with one thing on my mind - I knew there was a Fog with my name on it nearby. I wandered over in the hot sun and strolled into the Milano Cafe, of which I had visited a handful of times before. I quickly ordered my Fog, pretended to look at something important on my phone as I waited, then grabbed the Fog as it was served.  Now, this Fog was something different right from the get-go. This Fog has some personality to it (I say as though every Fog didn't  have personality), but this one had a personality which would be equivalent to someone earning a double take from a passive scroller on Tinder. This Fog had flair, with the tea bag a sharp rectangular shape, jutting out from one side as if to announce to the world of its presence, "Look at me", it said unapologetically. It didn't care that it was a little impractical or unnecessary, no - that Tea was living to be noticed and I am here for it.  After sheltering the Fog...

 This Fog was a delightful surprise, an unplanned, stumble into a new coffee shop for a why not type of Fog. The cafe was on the North Shore, where I was joined by my Girlfriend while celebrating our two years of romantic entanglement. The cafe was called something like Polygon, even though its floor plan was a rectangle. Aside from the business' misnomer, it was cool and edgy - like a millennial with a thing for natural wood panelling combined with the aesthetic of records and white walls. The music was a tad loud though, I say realizing I sound four times my age. Doesn't change the fact I had to raise my voice to get in my usual pick-up lines as we waited in line to order.  The Fog arrived shortly in a short, stout, elegant cup. It was firm and warm to the touch, sitting nicely in my hand as we found a place to sit. The foam of the Fog rose gently as I took my first sip - the perfect subtle consistency I had grown to love with Fogs. The drink was warm but not hot, sweet but ...

 This was no ordinary London Fog, no, no. From 4,038 feet above sea level, in an embarrassingly sweat-soaked golf shirt, I found myself in line to purchase a Fog from a small cafe inside the main building on top of Grouse Mountain. I had just completed the Grouse Grind (very successfully might I add) and couldn't think of a better beverage to cool myself down and impress a friend's boyfriend of whom I was meeting for the first time.  The cafe itself was more of a counter than a cafe, really. There was a limited selection of other traditional cafe beverages (None of which I cared for, naturally) along with six drawings of mountain-dwelling species with unhinged names - a grizzly bear named something like Goeff, and a Deer named Daisy, if my memory serves me right. I doubt these were the animals' actual names. The first-letter-animal-name-pairing would certainly lead to a troubling middle school experience.  Aside from the Cafe's relatively 'chill' decor, I ordere...