[Terra Nola documents the long-distance love affair between a New Yorker and New Orleans.]

People often ask me why I love New Orleans so much. They ask that a lot more now than they did before Katrina, as you might imagine, but it's a question I never tire of answering. And it's a question to which there are many, many answers.

One of the myriad reasons I love New Orleans is for the coffee. I've probably mentioned this in countless blogs, but there's just something--sumthin'--about the way coffee in New Orleans tastes that is better than anywhere else I've sipped it. New York City offers a pretty good variety of coffees, and many of them are downright tasty, but they don't have that special something that Nola coffee offers.

For years now I've figured that special something was really just in my mind. I thought I just loved Nola coffee for the simple reason that I was in Nola when I was drinking it. That would be special in and of itself. But that's not it.

Then for a while I thought maybe it was the chicory. Chicory was added to coffee way back when to enrich the flavor when coffee had to be watered down to make it go a little further. In the old days there were no Starbucks and money for coffee was tight. Enjoying a cup could be seen as a privilege. In order to make the coffee last a little longer during times of economic strife chicory was added to give coffee back its robust edge.

But the chicory isn't what makes Nola coffee special. I'm pretty sure at this point most coffee in Nola does not have chicory in it. Either that or I've gotten so used to the flavor I couldn't tell you otherwise in a blind taste test.

Finally, the other day, my husband shed some light on this mystery. He was doing research for a paper on human rights in New Orleans before, during and after Katrina when he came upon a personal blog neither of us will every be able to turn up for you, sadly. This blog revealed the truth behind Nola coffee that I am sure all the locals already know: it's made from concentrate.

Gee. You'd think I could have figured that out. In fact, I did figure it out sometime before the storm but forgot about it. We made the discovery at our beloved and now defunct Cafe Au Lait. When we ordered iced coffee and the person behind the counter whipped out this container full of what I thought was merely iced coffee (regular and decaf!).

No no no no no. It was concentrate. I know, because we asked, about ten seconds after I tasted it. It was marvelous, divine, and clearly the best cup of iced coffee I'd ever had. Ever.

Now, to be honest, nothing makes a good cup of iced coffee better than adding the proper complement of milk. I prefer cream. I mean, I don't get it in New York, but in the south and especially in New Orleans, all the coffee seems to come with cream in it. Or, rather, half and half--although mostly it's real cream.

And it's unbelievable. The combo of the concentrate and the real cream is so smooth and creamy yet flavorful with the richness of the actual coffee taste. I pretty much can't live without it.

And now I don't have to. In this blog my husband uncovered a recipe for making the perfect concentrate. In fact, I started up a batch yesterday I'll be going to check on in a few minutes. I can assure you this first experiment will not render anything as good as what is by now old hat in New Orleans, but you have to start somewhere.

The coffee beans are not from Nola, for one thing. Although they're a good brand found locally in Louisville, Kentucky (of all places) these beans are not going to stand up to what could be found in New Orleans. Plus, since this is my first time making concentrate I'm sure I don't have the measurements exactly where they should be.

The recipe found on the blog called for essentially a half pound of coffee beans ground and soaked in five cups of water for at least twelve hours. No word on how finely ground the beans should be or whether the beans could be pre-ground or if you need to grind them right before you make the mixture. Also no word on whether the mixture should sit at room temperature or be put in the fridge.

I ground the beans on the spot and then added a teaspoon-full (or so, I wasn't measuring, which is always my downfall) of ground chicory. Eventually, I'll need to turn up filters and filter out the coffee grounds.

The rest will be, as they say, history. Hopefully this attempt at recreating one of New Orleans' finest offerings will turn out better than the time I tried to make rose mint iced tea. Either way it will kick the butt of what passes for iced coffee around here.

According to the blog, restaurants are starting to catch on to the concentrate "trend" and are making their own versions to sell at higher prices. This is ridiculous, of course, because anyone can make concentrated iced coffee. take me, if I can do it, anyone can.

Perhaps the best part of coffee from New Orleans--besides drinking it in New Orleans, possibly getting it with a little chicory, and having it from concentrate--is that it's still inexpensive. Like with most places in Nola, the purveyors of iced coffee don't know how to offer anything less than the best.

Photo of delicious New Orleans iced coffee by Mike Rowehl.