You can never tell these days what's true and what's false on the Internet, but the world is also a confusing and often idiotic place -- which means there's a whole new category of things that you really hope are fake but are scared they might not be. Like powdered alcohol, a real product that was briefly approved by the feds before they reversed their decision on it.
As the story on the product's website now goes, founder Mark Phillips wanted some booze while on a backpacking trip and hit on the idea of making a lightweight alcohol powder that could be added to water. Then he set forth making it a reality. Thus the inadvisably named Palcohol powdered alcohol was born.
By now, his wafels are a staple in third wave coffee shops, but Abhishek "Rip" Pruisken is just getting started. He's the man behind Rip Van Wafels, those thin, caramel-laced wafels modeled off Dutch stroopwafels that have lately become a mainstay in cafés all over town. Coffee may be a quickfire business -- the faster we get our morning cup the better -- but Pruisken is advocating for a slower approach. His entire branding scheme, in fact, is based on the plea to take more breaks. Stroopwafels are as much a ritual as they are a food item, designed to be rested on the lip of a cup of coffee or tea, to be enveloped in the steam and the flavors rising from the cup, assimilating some of the stronger flavor notes.
See also: Three Coffee Drinks You Don't Know But Should
Meet Kilovolt, High-Voltage Coffee Coming to Oakland
Meet the Newest Coffee Game in Town: Red Bay Coffee Roasters
The vibe at Tacos El Autlense is not unlike other taco truck scenes. It's sunset on a rare Bay Area evening when it's warm enough for a woman wearing flip-flops and a tank top to sit comfortably on her car hood, with tacos on white paper plates scattered around her. A toddler and her grandmother are singing the Frozen song for the third time, and a guy trying to recover from happy hour suddenly realizes as he orders that he needs to borrow a dollar. There's the metallic clinking sound of the spatula hitting the griddle and the smell of freshly chopped onion floating out from the truck windows. The only unusual thing is that El Autlense sits in the driveway of Albany's oldest bar, the Hotsy Totsy Club.
