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The Dark Arts at Amar, Chelsea Green

Amar Cafe, Drinking coffee on Chelsea Green, Colombian Coffee
Amar Cafe on Chelsea Green. The small terrace area outside is on the spot of two car parking spaces.

Amar Cafe means to love coffee. Though this is in Spanish. In Bengali it apparently means “my cafe”. This could perhaps lead to a short meander onto a language inspired thinking trail about how a cafe that you love to frequent becomes “yours” in a certain sense. Though to return to the coffee, the cafe itself is a small space located on Chelsea Green. There are other branches of Amar cafe in telephone boxes around London and in Stratford upon Avon. A couple of parking spots just outside the cafe have been converted to an outside terrace complete with small olive trees at which you can enjoy your coffee in the fresh air of the Green. Although this is clearly a Covid-19 related temporary measure, it would be good if some of these outside places can remain on a more permanent basis. They do add to the character of the Green. Amar cafe specialises in Colombian coffees that they source themselves. All of the usual espresso based drinks are available as well as the option of a pour over. A small selection of pastries including empanadas are available for breakfast. There are about four tables outside and a couple of tables (along with a window bench) inside. As you enter the cafe, the bar is immediately in front of you. Outside, the cafe is painted a bright yellow colour which makes it stand out among the independent shops that are in this little quarter of Chelsea.

On the two occasions that we have visited, I have enjoyed a really well made pour over each time. Although I am not good at generating my own tasting notes, I would say that the coffee was sweet and syrupy, with a fruitiness and complexity that was very enjoyable. It was presented in a V60 jug together with a black, handle-less, porcelain cup.

V60 at Amar Cafe, Chelsea
Carafe of coffee and cup. The blackness of the coffee is similar to the blackness of the cup. On the carafe, condensation has formed on one side only. How did that happen?

Gazing into the filter coffee, there were patterns on the surface of the coffee that you could see reflected at different angles. But looking more deeply, it looked black, within a black porcelain cup. Where did the cup end and the coffee begin? How could you see black on black? Which was blacker?

A material appears black to us when it absorbs the majority of the visible light incident on it and doesn’t reflect or emit any visible light back. Until 2019, the world’s blackest material was “Ventablack”, but even this material only absorbed 99.96% of the light shining on it. Late in 2019, a new material was discovered that absorbs 99.995% of light shone onto it. And not just that, it absorbs 99.995% of light from the ultraviolet to the THz (between infrared and microwave). The material is truly black. But the inventors of this material were not trying to make a black material, they weren’t even really interested in optics. The invention came courtesy of a collaboration with an artist.

At the time, Diemet Strebe was the artist in residence at MIT. The scientists at MIT who would go on to discover this new black material, were interested in the electrical properties of carbon nano tubes (CNTs). CNTs are a layer of carbon atoms (arranged in the hexagonal structure familiar for layers of graphite) wrapped into a tube. Each tube may be just a few nanometers diameter but they can grow hundreds of micrometers long. Depending on how they are wound into a tube, CNTs can have a very low electrical resistance. But this electrical advantage is lost when you try to attach them to a metal like aluminium because the surface of aluminium always oxidises. Unlike aluminium, aluminium oxide is a brilliant electrical insulator. Which is great if you want to study effects in which the electrical current is blocked, but terrible if you want to utilise these fantastically conducting CNTs. This was the problem that the scientists at MIT wanted to solve. Their solution was to remove the oxide using salt water and then deposit the CNTs on top. (When phrased like this it sounds such a simple idea, “why did no one do this before”, but there are many experimental steps needed to be able to grow CNTs onto substrates such as aluminium and it has taken many years to get to this point). Once the CNTs were deposited, the authors found that not only did they have a good electrical conductor, the material was really black.

Coffee love. Some evidence of foam ripening at the surface of an oat milk latte.

What happened next is where the art comes in. Professor Brian Wardle who led the study was quoted as saying “Our group does not usually focus on optical properties of materials, but this work was going on at the same time as our art-science collaborations with Diemet. So art influenced science in this case.”

Thinking about how black the material was, the team decided to measure its optical absorption, which is when they discovered that they had broken the record previously held by Ventablack. And it was then that the art came back in. Strebe took a $2m natural yellow diamond and covered it with this ultra-black material. The result is striking (link). The composition, called “The Redemption of Vanity” could cause us to pause and ponder what we value as a society. What makes a sparkling diamond so valuable? How do we start to see objects by the fact that we can’t see them at all? If we extend this contemplation to our surroundings of Chelsea Green, we may wonder at this small little triangle of grass with its couple of benches. What does it reveal or hide? Does it help us to know that this is the last remnant of Chelsea Heath*, a bit of common land in which occupants of the surrounding manor houses down on (what is now) Cheyne Walk had the right to graze their livestock. Throughout this green, cows wandered up from the Thames as recently as the seventeenth century. A part of London that has disappeared, obscured by modern buildings yet held in memory by the street names and, the names of housing blocks.

As for why this material absorbs so much light, it is still an open question. It is known that the arrangement of the CNTs (including their alignment) can make a material coated in them very black. Even Ventablack is made from CNTs. It is a question that will probably continue to be discussed over many coffees. But is it a question that we would be asking again at all if it weren’t for the interaction in this case of art and science? Another point of contemplation that we can enjoy while looking into our coffee and just wondering ‘why’?

Amar Cafe is on Chelsea Green, 15 Cale Street, London, SW3 3QS and at several other telephone box locations.

*London Encyclopaedia, 3rd edition, Weinreb, Hibbert, Keay and Keay

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Under pressure

What do you notice about this iced latte? The cup is rich with physics, but for this post, the important bit is the floating ice on top.

A coffee should be a time for relaxation, for reflection. As we come to the end of summer here in the northern hemisphere, we may want to enjoy one last iced coffee before we return to the warming coffees of winter. If on the other hand you are reading this from the southern hemisphere, the equatorial region, or some time after it was originally posted, you may be just starting to enjoy your iced coffees again. Either way, ice is remarkable and it is good to make some time to enjoy it. One of the things that makes it remarkable is what seems to be its very ordinariness: it floats.

Ice floats because the solid form of water is less dense than the liquid form. This is actually fairly unique to water. Most liquids get more dense as you cool them. As they transform into solids, they get denser still. This would mean that if you were to cool a liquid until it starts to solidify, the solid would sink, not float, on the liquid. If water were like most other liquids, all the ice in our iced-coffee would be at the bottom, not jiggling at the top. In addition to what would be an almost aesthetic problem for the coffee, this has consequences for life itself. When a lake or a pond freezes over, the fish and other aquatic life, can survive under the ice in the denser water. This odd property of water has helped life to evolve.

The reason for this strange behaviour lies in the way that water molecules bond together. Each water molecule can bond to a neighbour through a hydrogen bond. This optimises the structure to a layered form of well spaced hexagons (link here for an interactive model of water ice). Each corner of the hexagon is an oxygen atom. The size of the hexagon means that, if they weren’t arranged into a regular lattice, the water molecules could get closer together than they do in the solid phase. Which is another way of saying that the liquid can get more dense than the solid. Ice will float on water.

The layered structure of the ice crystals also means that each hexagonal face will tend to glide over the one below it or above it. It is this property of ice that means that we can determine the direction of glacial flow in centuries past. When fresh snow falls on top of a glacier, the density of the snow layer is about 50-70 Kg/m3. For comparison, the density of water is 1000 Kg/m3. Although each snow crystal is hexagonal, they have random orientation as they fall. As new snow falls, it pushes down on the old snow and compacts it until, about 80m down into the glacier, the density of the (now) ice is 830 Kg/m3. As the depth increases still further, the density increases to 917 Kg/m3 which is as dense as a glacier can be but is still much less than the density of water; a glacier would float. When the snow crystals are pressed down, the hexagonal layers of ice will glide past each other in the direction of push and the crystals will re-orienate. They will also grow as they merge with other crystals and as a result of the heat from the bedrock beneath them. This means that deep in the glacier, more of the crystals will be orientated in the direction of the push. Taking a vertical core of ice and looking at the orientation of the crystals in 0.5mm thick cross sections therefore reveals how they have been pushed as a function of depth. This in turn reveals which way the glacier has flowed in the past.

Sun-dog, Sun dog
A ‘rainbow’ of colour as seen in a ‘sun dog’ observed in central London. Note the order of the colours.

The structure of ice has one other surprise for those of us who are enjoying more coffee outside. Depending on the weather conditions, high up in the atmosphere, hexagonal ice crystals form. Because they are hexagons, they are, in effect, a section of a 60 degree prism. This means that light entering through one face, will be refracted twice to emerge from the crystal at 22 degrees relative to where it came from. If there are enough of these crystals high in the atmosphere, a bright circle will form around the Sun. For reasons that are probably obvious, it is known as the 22 degree halo. It seems fairly difficult to observe this halo. What is far more common to see are two bright regions of light at the 9 o’clock and 3 o’clock positions on the halo. In addition to being brighter than the rest of the light circle, these two regions often appear like a ‘rainbow’, but with the red on the inside of the halo and the blue on the outer edge. Known as “sun dogs” or parhelia, they too are a consequence of the ice crystals. As the ice crystals fall, they are more likely to fall flat so that each hexagonal face is horizontal. More of these ice crystals means that there is going to be more light refracted at the position horizontal to the Sun and so the light there is intense. They appear as separated colours for the same reason that the colours disperse with a prism: each wavelength of light has a very slightly different refractive index and so gets ‘bent’ by a slightly different amount. The ice crystals are bending the red a bit less than the blue.

This is a good time of year to keep an eye out for Sun dogs and haloes. And if we can do so while enjoying a well made iced coffee with the ice cubes floating at the surface, all the better.

Please do share any photographs you have of coffee with 22 degree haloes or sun dogs, either here or on Facebook or Twitter.

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A return to Pritchard & Ure

A view from the terrace at Pritchard & Ure, overlooking the garden centre.

It is always great to realise that we have enough time to head across town to enjoy a coffee at Pritchard & Ure. If you haven’t yet tried it, Pritchard & Ure is a lovely spot in Camden Garden Centre (near Camden Road overground station). I first visited back in 2018 and ordinarily, I would not do a second cafe-physics review. But then 2020-21 have not been ordinary either and Pritchard & Ure too has changed. Back in 2018, a swaying pendulum prompted thoughts on how we knew that the Earth rotates. Since then, the world has moved in a different way.

In the case of Pritchard & Ure, this is reflected in a definite physical change to the cafe: a new terrace has been built overlooking a semi-outside section of the garden centre. This bit of the garden centre is sheltered from the rain by a permanent roof, almost like a permanent umbrella (see picture). The cafe on the other hand is protected from light rain and wind by a series of garden umbrellas. Apparently the indoor section of the cafe remains open if the weather becomes too awful (or presumably in autumn/winter). But in these times when it is good to be able to socialise outside, the new terrace offers a perfect place to do it. Accordingly, I took the opportunity to have an oat milk latte. While black coffee is normally a good test of the coffee in a cafe, I knew Pritchard & Ure served great coffee from my previous visit. Roasted by Workshop, the coffee is still offered in either a 6oz or 8oz size. But it’s been a while since I had enjoyed a properly made latte in a cafe and so why resist? We also enjoyed a spot of brunch, all while admiring the number of plants (and cacti) on view.

Can there be too much physics in one picture? Let me know what you see.

As before, obvious thought trains went in the direction of the science of plants and ecology. The large number of cacti just below our table was particularly suggestive of the changing conditions of our planet and the tendency for some areas of our world to be subject to more drought. The flowering plants too could prompt reflections on insects and how climate change is affecting them, including the possibility of mass extinctions. The past couple of weeks have seen Extinction Rebellion back in London as we prepare for COP26. One action that they took was an occupation of the Science Museum. The museum was targeted because Shell sponsor some of the exhibits including the “Our Future” exhibit about climate change. Extinction Rebellion have written an open letter to the Science Museum arguing, amongst other things that Shell gains “prestige and implied endorsement by the Science Museum group”. This is despite Shell’s own business plans not being “in line with limiting warming to 2C“. The museum disagrees with the principle of boycotting sponsorship by Shell on the grounds that such companies have the “capital, geography, people and logistics” needed in order to fight climate change. They also argue that some of these exhibits which help to inform the public about issues such as the science around climate change are only possible because of the financial muscle of companies such as Shell. It is a tough ethical cookie. One where we may have to try to read about the arguments and yet withhold judgement, knowing that most of us do not know enough, or have not thought deeply enough, to comment authoritatively.

The canal system built during the eighteenth and early nineteenth century required significant engineering expertise. This is a view from inside a loch on a canal within the M25 that surrounds London as the water fills through the gates, showing the loch gates and the walls of the canal.

A somewhat similar issue concerns the site of the garden centre itself. At the beginning of the 19th Century, the land belonged to William Agar (hence Agar Grove just north of the garden centre). Agar himself lived in Elm Lodge which was approximately where Barker Drive is now. He was involved in a dispute with the Regents Canal Company. He did not want the new canal to cut through his land. Finally, at the end of 1817 he relented and now, the canal cuts NW to SE just west of Pritchard & Ure. Was Agar a NIMBY (not in my backyard) or was his objection more complex? It’s another issue on which we have to suspend judgement. Though maybe this is easier to do as the case is over two hundred years old. Would we be so balanced if the Regents Canal were being built now and we wanted to react quickly on Twitter? What if the Regents Canal were HS2?

A more physics-based issue of balance could be seen in the umbrellas arranged over the terrace. They were supported not centrally but from the side, so the umbrella could be easily placed above the tables without the supports getting in the way. Immediately we could make connections to counterbalances and cranes. How is it physically possible that such a weight can be held by an outstretched (mechanical) arm? The weights of the flower pots standing on the umbrella bases may give us a clue.

There were many opportunities to think about issues of physics or balance on this terrace. It was a reminder of how good it is to go to a different cafe, put aside the smart phone, and just sit, enjoy a well made coffee and ponder about any subject that strikes your mind. Pritchard & Ure is a perfect place to do this, it remains a friendly space with good coffee (and food) at which you can enjoy thinking. And now, with the outside terrace, there is even more reason to go there as it is rare to find a cafe close-ish to central London with a large outdoor, and socially distanced, seating space.

Pritchard & Ure is at 2 Barker Drive, NW1 0JW