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| Ann and I on a coffee adventure |
I have called you my Joe, sometimes Java , but dear Coffee, whatever you are named I adore you . . . I dream of you and your heady coffee roasted smell and sometimes, in the wee hours of the morning, I imagine I can smell your coffee essence, wafting like a ghost from some far off place (in my dreams or from a house nearby), and I smile, knowing that very soon I will be cradling that hot mug in my own two hands and sipping your wonderful essence and pondering how long I can make this cup of joy last.
I do not pollute your goodness with creamers or artificial sweeteners or even those fancy additives (syrups and creams and sugars with names I cannot pronounce). No, I sip your pure, unadulterated complex taste, swirling those flavors across my taste buds, imagining the beans, being roasted and then ground to perfect precision before the hot steaming water effortlessly produces my first cup of the morning. Sweet heaven, sweet joy!
I prefer the privacy of my own kitchen for the preparation of you, my sweet cuppa joy, brewed in my very old, but trustworthy Mr. Coffee maker, but there is no sin in varying my coffee preparation a wee bit. Sometimes I buy you whole and beautiful to grind you into that fine texture (this takes extra time, but only makes the joy that much sweeter) and then I press you in my beautiful glass coffee press, allowing your natural flavors to come to the surface for my own, selfish tasting pleasure. Watching that layer of foam on top, I want to reach below the surface and sip deeply, savoring the richness and depth of flavor that only you can possess. I purchase you preground and packaged neatly in little pods for my Tassimo machine, but there is something missing in simply popping that little plastic pod in and watching a machine produce a cup of deliciousness in a flat 2 minutes. Where is the anticipation of that first coffee kiss on my eager lips? Where is the smell of the beans being ground and the gurgle from Mr. Coffee, that wonderful modern invention, as he finishes his job and announces “bring your cuppa to my carafe, indulge be happy, no, content as I pour you, you beaned wonder, lovingly into my favorite coffee mug of the day.
I do agree that while I prefer to grind and brew myself a delicious cuppa joy, I do enjoy an adventure, especially with a fellow coffee lover at a fun, independent coffee brewery. And why not call coffee houses a brewery? The beer brewery roast their hops and grind them and ferment them . . . not much different than that perfect bean, picked from the fields and roasted to perfection. I love to watch the baristas (oh, how I would love that job) as they grind and carefully measure your perfection into the little device, tamping you down to ensure all of your flavors enhance my coffee drink. The hiss of that powerful machine produces the espresso little shots that I savor like a piece of fine chocolate or vintage wine upon my tongue and make me sigh in contented delight. Come to me, Coffee . . . let us sit a while and enjoy a quiet moment as I revel in your savory bliss.
It is true, I crave you and cannot think of the world without you, for surely you begin each of my days with your siren smell, bringing me out of my slumber and helping me smile and cheer the perfect day. I know some say there are side effects in partaking too much of your roasted excellence, but where are these naysayers when that coffee smell attracts me and makes me greet the world so happily? There are also those that say that coffee is a benefit to our health and should be consumed once a day. At the very least, they should know that loving something as wonderful as you, my dear Mr. Java Bean, brings a sweet smile to my lips and a song in my heart. I love you now. I will love you always. You are my bean, my brew, my morning joy!
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