Grecian

Theme on a V60

bloom on a v60

V60 bubbles. There is much to be gained by slowing down while brewing your coffee.

Preparing a coffee with a pour-over brewer such as a V60 is a fantastic way to slow down and appreciate the moment. Watching anti-bubbles dance across the surface as the coffee drips through, inhaling the aroma, hearing the water hit the grind and bloom; a perfect brewing method for appreciating both the coffee and the connectedness of our world. The other week, while brewing a delightful Mexican coffee from Roasting House¹, I noticed something somewhat odd in the V60. Having placed it on the kitchen scales and, following brewing advice, measured the amount of coffee, I poured the first water for the bloom and then slowly started dripping the coffee through. Nothing unusual so far and plenty of opportunity to inhale the moment. But then, as I poured the water through the grind, I noticed the scales losing mass. As 100g of water had gone through, so the scales decreased to 99g then 98g and so on. It appeared the scales were recording the water’s evaporation.

science in a V60

Bubbles of liquid dancing on the surface of a brewing coffee.

It is of course expected that, as the water evaporates, so the mass of the liquid water left behind is reduced. This was something that interested Edmond Halley (1656-1742). Halley, who regularly drank coffee at various coffee houses in London including the Grecian (now the Devereux pub), noted that it was probable that considerable weights of water evaporated from warm seas during summer. He started to investigate whether this evaporating vapour could cause not only the rains, but also feed the streams, rivers and springs. As he told a meeting of the Royal Society, these were:

“Ingredients of a real and Philosophical Meteorology; and as such, to deserve the consideration of this Honourable Society, I thought it might not be unacceptable, to attempt, by Experiment, to determine the quantity of the Evaporations of Water, as far as they arise from Heat; which, upon Tryal, succeeded as follows…”²

Was it possible that somehow Halley’s demonstration of some three hundred years ago was being replicated on my kitchen scales? Halley had measured a pan of water heated to the “heat of summer” (which is itself thought provoking because it shows just how recent our development of thermometers has been). The pan was placed on one side of a balance while weights were removed on the other side to compensate the mass lost by the evaporating water. Over the course of 2 hours, the society observed 233 grains of water evaporate, which works out to be 15g (15 ml) of water over 2 hours. How did the V60 compare?

Rather than waste coffee, I repeated this with freshly boiled water poured straight into the V60 that was placed on the scales. In keeping with it being 2017 rather than 1690, the scales I used were, not a balance, but an electronic set of kitchen scales from Salter. The first experiment combined Halley’s demonstration with my observation while brewing the Mexican coffee a couple of weeks back. The V60 was placed directly on the scales and 402g of water just off the boil was poured into it. You can see what happened in the graph below. Within 15 seconds, 2 g had evaporated. It took just a minute for the 15g of water that Halley lost over 2 hours (with water at approximately 30 C) to be lost in the V60. After six minutes the rate that the mass was being lost slowed considerably. The total amount lost over 12 minutes had been 70g (70ml).

evaporation V60 in contact with scales

A V60 filled with 400g of water just off the boil seemed to evaporate quite quickly when placed directly on the scales.

Of course, you may be asking, could it be that the scales were dodgy? 70g does seem quite a large amount and perhaps the weight indicated by the scales drifted over the course of 12 minutes. So the experiment could be repeated with room temperature water. Indeed there did appear to be a drift on the scales, but it seemed that the room temperature water got moderately heavier rather than significantly lighter. A problem with the scales perhaps but not one that explains the quantity of water that seems to have evaporated from the V60.

control

Hot water (red triangles) loses more mass than room temperature water (grey squares).

Could the 70g be real? Well, it was worth doing a couple more experiments before forming any definite conclusions. Could it be that the heat from the V60 was affecting the mass measured by the electronic scales? After all, the V60 had been placed directly on the measuring surface, perhaps the electronics were warming up and giving erroneous readings. The graph below shows the experiment repeated several times. In addition to the two previous experiments (V60 with hot water and V60 with room temperature water placed directly on the scales), the experiment was repeated three more times. Firstly the V60 was placed on a heat proof mat and then onto the scales and filled with 400g of water. Then the same thing but rather than on 1 heat proof mat, three were placed between the kitchen scales and the V60. This latter experiment was then repeated exactly to check reproducibility (experiment 4).

You can see that the apparent loss of water when the V60 was separated from direct contact with the scales was much reduced. But that three heat proof mats were needed to ensure that the scales did not warm up during the 12 minutes of measurement. Over 12 minutes, on three heat proof mats, 14g of water was lost in the first experiment and 17g in the repeat. This would seem a more reasonable value for the expected loss of water through evaporation out of the V60 (though to get an accurate value, we would need to account for, and quantify the reproducibility of, the drift on the scales).

V60 Halley

The full set: How much water was really lost through evaporation?

Halley went on to estimate the flow of water into the Mediterranean Sea (which he did by estimating the flow of the Thames and making a few ‘back of the envelope’ assumptions) and so calculate whether the amount of water that he observed evaporating from his pan of water at “heat of summer” was balanced by the water entering the sea from the rivers. He went on to make valuable contributions to our knowledge of the water cycle. Could you do the same thing while waiting for your coffee to brew?

Let me know your results, guesses and thoughts in the comments section below (or on Twitter or Facebook).

¹As this was written during Plastic Free July 2017, I’d just like to take the opportunity to point out that Roasting House use no plastic in their coffee packaging and are offering a 10% discount on coffees ordered during July as part of a Plastic Free July promotion, more details are here.

²E Halley, “An estimate of the quantity of vapour….” Phil. Trans. 16, p366 (1686-1692) (link opens as pdf)

Ghosts of Christmas Past, the Devereux

Grecian, Coffee House, London Coffee House

The Devereux now stands where the Grecian once was

The Grecian is steeped in history. One of London’s early Coffee Houses, it counted Isaac Newton and Edmond Halley among its regulars. Today it is the site of a pub, “The Devereux“, owned by Taylor-Walker. The building itself dates from the nineteenth century though it is on the site of the old Grecian (a drawing of which can be seen on a wall inside the pub). In a sense, the Devereux is a continuation of the Grecian that once existed on this spot and it is for this reason that I’ve wanted to enjoy a drink at the Devereux/Grecian for a long time. What better time to do it than for a Christmas themed cafe-physics review?

The Devereux itself is a fairly spacious, comfortable pub, tucked down a little alley just off Fleet Street. It is strange to consider (while sipping on a glass of the 1730 pale ale) that it was here, just over 300 years ago, that the Grecian would host the after-meeting “pub outing” of the (then newly formed) Royal Society. Paintings and photographs of the Grecian and the Fleet St. area surround you, as you sit and enjoy your drink (they do serve tea and coffee too). Indeed, it is possible to almost feel the history of this place. I recalled reading a 1686 paper in the Philosophical Transactions by Edmund Halley in which he described a live demonstration, in front of a meeting of the Royal Society, of just how much water could evaporate from a heated plate of water in two hours. Halley was interested in this as part of the whole question of how rivers formed and where rain came from. I wondered whether Halley and his friends Newton and Sloane, retired to the Grecian after that meeting and sipped on hot coffee as they sat next to the cold windows which started to steam up on the inside.

Vegetable Lamb, Lamb of Tartary

The Vegetable Lamb in the collection of The Garden Museum

Reading about these early frequenters of this drinking establishment, it is hard to avoid the impression that they were driven by an interest in knowledge and knowing things. Of course the term ‘scientist’ had not yet been invented*. Science as in ‘scientia’ was still just Latin for knowledge, the men who gathered at the Grecian (and they were mostly men) were not “scientists” they were Natural Philosophers. Hans Sloane, another regular, was a great collector, finding curiosities from around the world and displaying them in his house. Most of his collection became the start of the British Museum but there is one curiosity of Sloane’s that I came across recently that is not to be found there at all and that is his “Vegetable Lamb”.

Vegetable Lambs were believed, in the seventeenth century to be, genuinely, part vegetable part animal. You can see from the photo that they do look fairly animal-like. According to the Garden Museum, these vegetable lambs originated in the Far East but now only two remain in the UK. The one that belonged to Hans Sloane (which is in the Natural History Museum) and the one that belonged to John Tradescant and that can now be found in the Garden Museum (now sadly closed until refurbishment is complete in 2017). Hans Sloane’s contribution was to show that this vege-animal was in fact purely a plant, a type of fern, which may make vegetarians everywhere breathe a sigh of relief. It was because these people were interested that they worked so hard in trying to understand the world around them. Which brings us, somewhat surprisingly, to one of the more recent famous patrons of what had by that time become, the Devereux.

Chesterton

The festive Chesterton bookshelf at the Devereux

GK Chesterton is not known for his scientific research. However, he did spend a great deal of time thinking and writing about all sorts of things. (It also appears that he spent a fair amount of time in the Devereux where there is an entire bookshelf of his books). A book of Chesterton’s essays “As I was saying” was published in the year of his death, 1936. Within that book is an essay “About the Telephone”. Chesterton was musing on a sentence that he had read in a newspaper that had troubled him: “The time will come when communicating with the remote stars will seem to us as ordinary as answering the telephone”. Chesterton wrote “Now if you could say to me: ‘The time will come when answering the telephone will seem to us as extraordinary as communicating with the remote stars…’ then I should admit that you were a real, hearty, hopeful, encouraging progressive.” I suspect that with our tendency today towards the fragmentation of knowledge and increasing specialisation, we would categorise the work of Newton and Halley, Sloane and then Chesterton in quite different compartments. Yet it seems to me that they share something in their work: an element of wonder and curiosity at the world. As Chesterton continued in “About The Telephone”,  I am not objecting to the statement that the science of the modern world is wonderful; I am objecting to the modern world because it does not wonder at it.

It sometimes seems hard for us to sit in a cafe on our own without using, or at least looking at, our telephones. Checking our email or the latest news on our telephones has become extraordinarily ordinary for us. Maybe this should be our New Year’s resolution: put our phone back into our pocket and consider, with Chesterton, Sloane, Halley and Newton, just how wonderful it is.

Happy Christmas & New Year to all

 

* The word science/scientist was first used in the sense that we now understand it by William Whewell in the nineteenth century.

“As I was Saying – a book of Essays by GK Chesterton” was published by Methuen&Co Ltd, 1936

The Devereux can be found in Devereux Court, just off Fleet Street, WC2R 3JJ

Arepa and Co, Haggerston

Haggerston Canal

Arepa and Co are on the right hand side of this canal

Edmond Halley (of comet fame) was born in the London district of Haggerston in 1656. More recently, Arepa and Co a Venezuelan cafe located alongside the canal that runs through the district, has just celebrated its first birthday there. This cafe serves a variety of Venezuelan foods including the arepas of the name which are, apparently, a traditional corn cake that can be filled with a variety of fillings (more info here). There are seats both inside the cafe or outside, overlooking the canal. As it was the early afternoon and we’d already had lunch, we decided upon a coffee, a sugar cane lemonade and, to accompany it a plate of Tequenos de Chocolate. These unusual little pancakes filled with chocolate were delightful to enjoy with a cup of coffee and a view over the canal. Sitting back and enjoying this relaxing view, I noticed a tree on the roof of a building on the opposite side of the canal. Hanging on the tree were a number of glass shapes. As the wind blew, the different faces of the shapes caught the Sun. Looking towards these glass shapes, they appeared to change colour as the sunlight was refracted through them. A glinting rainbow array of light fell onto our side of the canal.

The story of the investigation of colour is a great example of how our preconceived ideas can influence the results that we think we see. Up until the seventeenth century, colour was viewed as a property of the surfaces of an object as opposed to “light” which was that which rendered objects visible. Therefore trying to explain how rainbows formed or light scattered from ornaments was a difficult task. Indeed, medieval philosophers (the term ‘scientist’ is a nineteenth century invention), considered that there were only seven colours: Yellow, orange, red, purple, green and black and white.

Prism associated with Isaac Newton

A late C17th prism in the British Museum collection, © Trustees of the British Museum

Work understanding colour as a refracted component of white light started with Marci in his 1648 work Thaumantias (another name for Iris, the Greek goddess of the rainbow) and continued with Newton’s famous experiments with prisms. Newton showed that a glass prism refracted the different colours of light by different amounts (resulting in a spectrum). If two prisms were placed at right angles to each other, the rainbow of light from the first prism recombined into white light emerging from the second. With the change in mindset that this brought about, phenomena such as the rainbow could be more easily explained.

Grecian, Coffee House, London Coffee House

The Devereux pub now stands on the site of the Grecian coffee house, a former meeting place of the Royal Society

Which brings me back to coffee. Back in the eighteenth century cafes (or coffee houses) were not just places to have coffee but places to engage in the latest philosophical, political or scientific discussion and debate. Scientists of the day regularly gave public lectures and demonstrations in coffee houses both as a way of entertainment and of education. One scientist who participated in this was Stephen Demainbray (1710-1782). Demainbray demonstrated Newton’s experiments and theories on colour to a coffee drinking audience. The models that he used to explain the refraction of light are now on display in the Science Museum which is well worth a visit if you are in London. In the present day, there are still cafes and coffee houses that try to do a similar thing (of showing fun science to a coffee drinking audience), although perhaps sadly there are fewer now than there were then. Two movements that are trying to put the science back into coffee houses are Science Cafes and Cafe Scientifique. Although not always held in cafes, both movements have the aim of combining interesting science with a cup of coffee or glass of wine. Somewhat poetically the next Cafe Scientifique in London is to be held, on the 9th December, at the Royal Society. It is poetic because back in the time of Newton, discussions with the Royal Society president (Newton) and other society members took place at the Grecian Coffee House.

Both “Science Cafes” and “Cafe Scientifique” have events worldwide. It is worth taking a look at their websites to see if there is an event near you. Why not pop along and see what you can find out while having a cup of coffee?

 

Sources used:

The Rainbow Bridge, Raymond L Lee, Jr and Alistair B Fraser, Pennsylvania State University Press, 2002

The Nature of Light, Vasco Ronchi, Heinemann, 1970

London Coffee Houses, Bryant Lillywhite, George Allen & Unwin Ltd, 1963

From a Caravan to the Grecian

It is a Saturday morning as I write this while sitting in Granary Square in Kings Cross, London. I’ve just enjoyed an Ethiopean filter coffee at Caravan. If only more cafes offered the possibility of sampling single estate coffees rather than the espressos that are otherwise so popular in London.

Caravan, Granary Square, coffee, single estate, good cafes in London

The fountains in front of Caravan

In the square outside, people are laughing (and dancing!) in front of the old warehouses that accomodate Caravan. Amongst them all, four sets of ground-level fountains push jets of foaming water 50cm into the air, in patterns that change as you watch. There is so much physics here to observe: The white colour of the water foam, the dance of the water droplets as they emerge from the main jet of the fountain and then fall back to earth, the fact that the wet concrete around the fountains is darker than the dry concrete nearby.

Consider though one more observation. As the water shoots upwards, it is pushed by occasional gusts of wind from west to east making the fountains appear as loops rather than columns of dancing liquid. Although the direction of the wind is determined by local weather patterns, over the UK the prevailing wind direction is Westerly, that is flowing from west to east.

People have wondered about the origin of the winds from ancient times. The Greeks had four wind Gods who had authority over the winds from each direction: Boreas, god of the North wind, Notus of the South, Euros of the East and Zephryos of the West. Pliny the Elder speculated at length on the causes of the winds and yet the start of the modern conversation regarding the origin of the winds had to wait until 1686 with the publication of a work by Edmund Halley.

Grecian, Coffee House, London Coffee House

The Devereux now stands where the Grecian once was

Halley (1656-1742) is now more famous for the comet that is named after him rather than his meteorological work but, as with many scientists of the time, he had his finger in many pies. He also seems to have been a keen coffee drinker, or at least, he regularly spent time in one of London’s coffee houses, the Grecian, discussing science with Isaac Newton, Hans Sloane and others. A pub, the Devereux, now stands on the site of the old Grecian in a little side street off of Fleet Street.

Did Halley ponder cloud formation, rain and the origin of the winds while contemplating his steaming coffee cup on cold days in 17th Century London? Regardless, Halley did recognise that the heat from the Sun was the driving force for the wind system. Halley surmised that as a parcel of air was heated by the Sun and rose upwards, the cold air surrounding it would have to flow in to its place so as to replace the risen air so “..by a kind of Circulation N.E. Trade Winds below will be attended by a S.W. above, and the S.E. with a N.W. Wind above”* The problem for Halley was that his explanation of the wind system could account for a North-South wind direction owing to the Sun’s heating the air at the equator, but not the Easterly direction of the Trade Winds near the equator nor the Westerly direction of the winds over the UK.

A few years later, George Hadley (1685-1768) suggested that it was the rotation of the earth that was responsible for the east-west component; the mass of air, being detached from the earth, would appear to flow in a particular direction as a consequence of the earth spinning below it. The idea was not new, Galileo had proposed it some years earlier while similar arguments were made later by the philosopher (and scientist) Immanuel Kant (1724-1804). At first sight, such an argument looks appealing but there are problems, as John Herschel (1792-1871) pointed out. If this were the explanation for the wind direction, the effect would be “so great as to produce not merely a wind, but a tempest of the most destructive violence”.

Herschel suggested, as had Hadley before him, that friction could slow the wind to the speeds that we normally observe, but while this may explain the wind speed at ground level, what about the upper circulatory patterns noted by Halley: What friction could slow these down?

Grecian, Devereux, Coffee house London

A plaque outside the Devereux pub

It turns out that this is not the reason for the discrepancy in the wind speed. Hadley’s theory was wrong on a number of issues (if you are interested, I suggest reading this article). The real driving force for the Trade Winds is the Coriolis effect which deflects the warm air rising at the equator towards the right as it travels to the North pole. The majority of this air then cools and descends at about 30 degrees latitude, circling back on itself (as per Halley) as the Easterly trade winds. However the air that continues in the westerly direction north (or south) of 30 degrees latitude becomes those prevailing westerlies of the sort that batter the shores of the UK (see here for more information).

Even if Hadley’s simple model was wrong, its contemplation did lead to an important discovery that is still relevant for us today. The question was: What was it in the upper atmosphere that could cause a friction effect that could slow the winds? The person contemplating this question was taking a walking holiday in the Alps in the first half of September in 1886. Hermann von Helmholtz (1821-1894) observed a layer of clouds which showed “whirls formed by perturbation and rolling up” of the surfaces of two neighbouring layers of air. Helmholtz had observed what became known as “Kelvin Helmholtz clouds”, a beautiful but very rare cloud type, for an example click here. Helmholtz realised that the formation of these clouds required that two layers of air rubbed against each other. In the region between the two layers, the air became unstable, wavy and finally showed the whirls which are actually a series of vortices. As these vortices developed, the two layers of air would get more thoroughly mixed and it was in this way that friction could develop in the upper atmosphere.

Such vortices and “surfaces of discontinuity” are now an important concept in many places including the coffee cup. The video “Coffee Rings” presents another manifestation of the effects of surfaces of discontinuity. So we have returned from contemplation of the wind in a late summer square in London, through a famous Coffee House and back to the coffee.

I have not yet had the opportunity for myself to see a Kelvin Helmholtz cloud. If any reader has been so fortunate please share photos with @thinking_bean. Let me know what you think and what you see around you in the comments section below and most importantly, enjoy your coffee!

*from E. Halley, An Historical Account of the Trade Winds, Transactions of the Royal Society, 1686, p. 133, via “From Watt to Clausius”, DSL Cardwell, Cornell University Press, 1971

†Quotes taken from Anders O Persson, “Hadley’s Principle: Understanding and Misunderstanding the Trade Winds”, History of Meteorology, 3, (2006) p. 17 (linked in article)