For the ‘cupping' curious, George Howell Coffee hosts coffee tasting sessions
A six-week series featuring soup recipes and cozy vibes, plus side dishes and toppings, to get us all through the winter.
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For those hoping to sharpen their palate, these sessions offer an accessible way to appreciate the beverage. 'We came because we're really into coffee,' said Esteban Medina, originally from Colombia, who works in finance nearby and attended with his co-worker, Jenny Zheng. 'And it's an excellent mid-afternoon break.'
Dan O'Brien, who works downtown and is a regular cupper, says his understanding of coffee has grown through the sessions.
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Classes are held at George Howell Coffee locations at The Godfrey Hotel, 505 Washington St., Boston; the Boston Public Market, 100 Hanover St., Boston; Lovestruck Books & Café, 44 Brattle St., Cambridge; and in Newtonville at 311 Walnut St.
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Ann Trieger Kurland can be reached at
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'As the tickets come up, you want to check things off,' she explains, arranging a Get Winter Soup Club A six-week series featuring soup recipes and cozy vibes, plus side dishes and toppings, to get us all through the winter. Enter Email Sign Up Orders including clam plates, lobster rolls, and other fried seafood awaited pickup at Woodman's in Essex. Erin Clark/Globe Staff Advertisement I've been on the clock for barely an hour, and I'm already feeling overwhelmed. It seems every ticket has seven plates. I don't know the difference between a scallop boat and a scallop plate, and I'm not sure where the cocktail sauce or oyster crackers are. But there's no time for handholding. Zoe is on to the next order. 'I need a crabmeat roll and a hotdog!' she hollers over her shoulder. This was my idea. Inspired in part by Advertisement Ally Rzesa/Globe Staff 'I'll put you on the window,' the restaurant's co-owner offered. 'You can probably handle that.' I've marveled at Woodman's since my first haddock sandwich and order of steamers at the North Shore landmark 20 years ago. I enjoy the restaurant's A portrait of "Nana Bessie" from circa 1950 hangs among historical displays at Woodman's in Essex. Bessie Woodman, wife of founder Lawrence "Chubby" Woodman, helped develop the first fried clam recipe in 1916 when the couple experimented with different batters after a fisherman jokingly suggested they fry clams like potato chips. Erin Clark/Globe Staff Maggie Reynolds (left) and Chanelle Jordan-Davis fill plates with fried food at Woodman's of Essex. They are "do-up girls," who quickly pile cardboard plates with fried clams, scallops, and other seafood from giant steel colanders, working in overdrive to keep up with customer demand. Erin Clark/Globe Staff Mostly, though, I just appreciate the hustle of the place. From the instant the doors open at 11 a.m., business can be extraordinarily brisk, and it's remarkable to watch plate after heaping plate emerge from a cramped kitchen staffed mostly by kids – many of them fourth- and fifth-generation Woodmans – doing a sweaty job for minimum wage. (Employees also get deep discounts on most menu items and eat mistakes for free.) Touting my experience – I'd spent a year in my 20s frying tater tots and churros at a Taco John's in Iowa City – I wanted to work the fryer. But Woodman, whose husband, Doug, is the youngest of 'Chubby' Woodman's 14 grandchildren, balked. I'm glad she did. When I arrive for my shift, I find head fryer Bobby Barrett dredging a batch of clams in a tub of corn flour. He's surrounded by scalding fryolators – 11 of them – and four coworkers who narrowly avoid each other as they drop endless baskets of clams, scallops, shrimp, haddock, fries, and onion rings into the cauldrons of lard. Advertisement Head fryer Bobby Barrett checks the order screen while working among the 11 scalding fryolators in Woodman's cramped kitchen in Essex. Erin Clark/Globe Staff 'It's a dance,' Barrett says, his right ankle bandaged as a result of a recent burn. 'You gotta have eyes in the back of your head.' That's not a superpower I possess, so in my white apron and mandatory Woodman's T-shirt and cap, I join Zoe at the window. She warns me the kitchen can get oppressively hot – the temperature has topped 125 degrees at times this summer – but it's a mere 97 degrees at the moment. 'I'm OK with that,' I say, lying. 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Clams are indeed a precious commodity, especially during the summer when increased demand strains finite supply. (On the North Shore alone, Advertisement The result is higher prices for customers – a clam plate at Woodman's (which comes with ample fries and onion rings) costs $40.99 at the moment – and yet people still make the pilgrimage. 'It's a destination,' Andrew Krivak, a Somerville writer having lunch with his wife and three teenage children, tells me. 'We go to Crane Beach in the morning, Russell Orchard to get doughnut, and then Woodman's for lunch. That's the ritual.' Mollusks are on menus from Maryland to Santa Monica, but the soft-shell clams harvested from nutrient-rich mud flats in Massachusetts and Maine are a singular, to-die-for delicacy. 'They literally take in bits of their environment and make it part of their belly,' says the Boston-born Charlie Mannal takes orders at the register during the lunch rush on Saturday, July 12, at Woodman's of Essex. Erin Clark/Globe Staff My shift ends when no one is waiting to order, so, warily, I wander outside to inspect the line. Not too bad for a Saturday afternoon; the queue can sometimes stretch 100 yards down Main Street. On particularly hot days, customers will collapse on the sidewalk or inside the restaurant (there's no air conditioning at Woodman's). It happens about a dozen times a summer, says Eian Woodman, Doug's nephew. 'They come off the beach after drinking beer all day and they wonder why they don't feel good.' As a result, Woodman's started setting up an outdoor 'hospitality table' with free water and oyster crackers. Advertisement 'We feel bad that you're in the line. We really do,' says Maureen Woodman. 'But it's the heartbeat of the business. We'd probably feel worse if there wasn't a line.' The 'do-up girls' are now in overdrive, quickly piling cardboard plates with fried goodness and passing them to me and Zoe. Even as she's rushing to fill trays and call tickets – '671! 672!' – I can tell Zoe is keeping an eye on me. Sending out wrong or incomplete orders is another no-no. Most customers are at tables waiting to hear their number called, but some aren't; they're standing near the counter staring expectantly at every tray. It's unnerving. I'm reminded of the unblinking gulls at Good Harbor Beach that wait for people to drop a potato chip in the sand. Globe reporter Mark Shanahan works the pickup window during his shift at Woodman's in Essex. He embedded with the restaurant's crew to experience firsthand the demanding work in the cramped kitchen, which is staffed mostly by young workers, many of them fifth-generation Woodmans. Erin Clark/Globe Staff In all, 34 Woodmans, ages 14 to 74, currently work at the restaurant, but this isn't ' clam -pire. 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