Reviewing Miami and then some. Gratuitous vulgarity included.

Alaska Coffee Roasting

Ever since Sarah Palin burst into the global spotlight like that embarrassingly stupid friend you have that you put off introducing to your other circle of friends, I’ve mistrusted Alaska. Nothing good could come from there, or so I thought.

I have an aunt who lived in Alaska for a few years, and she’s fucking insane. I know I’m going to get shit from my mom for saying that, but let’s look at the facts:

  • She moved from the Caribbean to Alaska. Not even shooting yourself in the face is more extreme than that, because then at least you wouldn’t have to live in Alaska.
  • Etcetera…

I had a brief conversation with the owner last night, and she told me about how Alaska Coffee Roasting originally started in Fairbanks, where the average annual temperature is below freezing (I spent 10 minutes on Wikipedia: 1 of which I spent on Fairbanks, 9 of which I spent on this.) On their website it states that their focus was on “roasting and preparing the best coffee in the world”, so they chose a city so fucking remote, it’s 14 miles northwest from a town literally named “North Pole”. That’s ridiculous. That’s like opening up a black salon in Maine, or a bagel deli in Baghdad. I told you, Alaskans are insane.

Dana and I had passed this place a few times, and each time we would make a comment like, “oh, that looks nice, we should go there” and proceed to Little Caesar’s to eat a slice of regret. I’m not much of a coffee guy, but I was particularly turned on by the neon sign that stated they make wood oven pizza. I love pizza, and as you can see by my Little Caesar’s reference, I know quality pizza. Last night, we finally decided to go there and give it a shot, and let me tell you, I wanted to vomit. I wanted to vomit, so I could make room to eat all that shit again.

What kind of pizza are we talking about?

It tastes better than it looks, and it looks like a goddess. Photo credit: G. H.

I normally don’t like white pizza, because pizza without red sauce is like Sarah Palin without a helicopter and some wolves to mercilessly slaughter, but I really enjoyed their “Green Goddess” pizza. It’s ricotta cheese that I’m 97.3% certain was made by an illegal Italian immigrant they have chained in the back, spinach that I’m 91.6% sure was picked by a legal Mexican immigrant, and garlic from Todd. But what really makes the pizza is the dough. The lady stressed to me that she works hard on that dough, and that unlike most places, they don’t throw sugar in there. That dough is so good, I’d burn down a Papa John’s for the chance to lick the palm of her hand after she kneaded it.

I wanted to vomit, so I could make room to eat all that shit again.

We also had a shepherd’s pie. Listen, normally I think any food originating from the British Isles is atrocious and should’ve been justifiably raped and pillaged by the Vikings out of existence, but shepherd’s pie is an exception. And this shepherd’s pie steps it up a level. It’s so buttery, so garlicky, so meaty, and so goddamn delicious that I’m irrationally angry right now thinking about the fact that it’s over there and I’m over here. We couldn’t leave it at that, so we each had a sweet: a cronut, and a chocolate chip cookie. I had never had a cronut before, and didn’t even think they existed. I thought it was a myth, like unicorns, fairies, and unsuccessful Asian-Americans. However, I brought it up to one of the office fat guys and he was like “oh yeah, cronuts, they’re great.” WHAT?! It’s like I live in a different world. I did some research (spent 1 minute on Wikipedia: 5 seconds on cronut, 55 seconds on this) and found that it wasn’t masterminded by a fat bastard as I originally thought, but by a very skinny chef.

One thing I really appreciated is how they make everything there. Everything. Not like how some places claim to make everything fresh, then lie to your fucking face. Panera, for example, is guilty of touting freshness, yet you order mac and cheese and you watch them go grab a hot plastic sac of pre-made shells and cheese and dump it in a bowl right in front of your eyes. This lady had us sample their soup of the day, a carrot bisque, and she brought the young dude who made it, stood him in front of us, and basically gave us an opportunity to tear him apart if his food sucked. I LIKE THAT SHIT.

The bottom line is I love this place now. The owner was nice as hell, clearly treats her employees well, and loves what she does. All those things, in Miami, of all places. Who the hell treats people well in Miami? Like I said, Alaskans are fucking crazy.


So where the hell is it?
  • 13130 Biscayne Blvd
  • North Miami, FL 33181
  • (786) 332-4254
  • acrcmiami.com
  • Alaska Coffee Roasting Co. on Urbanspoon
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