The Fog Blog

 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...