I belong to one of the largest and most militant groups in the United States. I am a coffee drinker. Those of you who don’t care about coffee probably have something else you are crazy about that you can relate to easily. My mother was a coffee drinker. We all knew that it wasn’t a good idea to talk to her before her first cup. It’s funny, when you are a kid and some grown up lets you taste a little sip, you think it is horrible and cannot imagine why people like it. Then you grow up and the thought of living without it is horrifying.
Seattle in the 70s started a new era of coffee consumption. No longer were people content with just a cup of Joe; we got used to special brews from around the world. With the advent of the chain coffee houses like Starbucks, we all succumbed to what is known as coffee culture. These coffee sanctuaries became a place to meet friends, embark on a new romance, study, do work on your computer, or just contemplate your navel while sipping your signature drink.
For all you coffee drinkers out there, you know what I am talking about.
If you have ever stood in a long line at Starbucks and listened to the ordering going on in front of you, it is pretty intimidating. You need to learn a different language to order coffee in one of these places. The clientele is pretty hip and you would never ask what anything means, so you have to learn the lingo the same way you learned about sex. You listen intently, pretend you get it, nod your head, and then you can eventually piece together all the facts and know what they are talking about. Once you get the jargon down, drinking coffee becomes less stressful and more enjoyable. Back in the day when I was new to the Starbucks routine, I remember the person ahead of me in line ordering a “1/2 caf/decaf cappucino, extra wet. I started to panic about being next. I had no idea how to order and I didn’t want to appear stupid. I was like a deer in headlights when it was my turn. A million thoughts dashed through my brain as I tried to unscramble what I just heard. “Extra wet?” Isn’t coffee already wet?
“How can I help you , Miss?”, asked the young man. “Oh”, I said, flinging my hair and attempting to look very casual. “I just want a regular brewed coffee”, I replied, disguising my angst with the best bored blonde look I could muster up. I was so relieved that he acknowledged my request and poised his fingers over the register keys to ring me up.“Whew!”, I said to myself. “They have just regular coffee here!” “Would you like our Sumatran Gold or the Himalayan Fog?” He queried. Oh, crap! I was terrible at geography in school. “Which region has the best coffee?” He was looking at me like I should know the difference between the two. I decided to look conflicted and it worked like a charm. “You know our House Blend is award winning and also my personal favorite.” I shook my head yes and now looked forward to my lovely cup of coffee. “Shall I make that a Venti?,” he inquired. “Absolutely!” I said with feigned authority. I had no idea what I was ordering until I picked up my schooner of black coffee when they called my name.
You live and learn. And I have learned plenty. When you order a cappuccino wet, it means you want more coffee than foam. To order it dry is just the opposite. Breve is with half and half instead of milk. Order your drink skinny and it’s made with skim milk and sugar free syrup. It’s not rocket science, but pretty close.
People have become so particular about the coffee they drink. I actually think that coffee snobs are worse than wine snobs. The whole thing has no socio-economic connection either. People who consider Cheetos hors d’oerves, are super snooty about their coffee. I have a good friend who roasts his own beans. Now that’s dedication. I must say that I truly understand the importance of coffee. It starts my day and often ends my evening meal. I am really glad that caffeine does not affect my ability to sleep. I would be miserable if I was one of those people who can’t drink a cup after 3 pm or they are up all night. I can pound back a double espresso at midnight and be asleep by 12:10.
I am the opposite of a coffee snob. I like it all. Give me a good hot mug of coffee shop coffee brewed in a Bunn machine. Fabulous! Whether it’s done in a French press, drip brewed, or percolated... it’s all good.
After my divorce, I treated myself to one of the Keurig coffer machines that use little individually packed “pods” to brew a single cup of coffee of your choice. Each serving is a work of art in a cup and since I live alone, sometimes that’s all I want to make. I have a little wooden drawer thing-y where my different varieties of pods, called K-cups, are kept. Each morning I ponder which exotic coffee I will have with the same deep thought as I would select a diamond ring from the jeweler’s case. Sometimes I even have tea. I have a plethora of different mugs from all over the universe on the shelf above my coffee maker, so I can match my coffee choice and my mood. Ok, it doesn’t take much to float my boat, but I love that damn machine. I love my coffee.
If, God forbid, I should ever become homeless and forced to live in the park, I would find a park with an electric outlet for my Keurig. I know they exist because the gardeners don’t use battery powered lawn mowers and hedge clippers, for goodness sake. I would make myself a sign that said “Please Help. Will Work for K-cups”. I will stand by the freeway on ramp during morning rush hour and graciously entertain offers of employment or donations for my coffee pods. You think I’m kidding, right?
For all you coffee drinkers out there, you know what I am talking about. A lot of the pleasure in a cup of coffee has to do with the ceremony of it all. The brewing, the cream, the sweetener... the way you swizzle it around to blend it just the way you like it. When your hands are wrapped around a steaming mug of coffee, the warmth goes right down to your toes. That aroma of the roasted beans wafting upwards is purely intoxicating. Tell me something that tastes better than that first sip in the morning... divine!
Besides the taste and tradition of this beverage, don’t forget how many problems have been solved and relationships begun over a simple cup of coffee. Chances are some of you are reading this article over coffee... that pleases me greatly. I am drinking one as I write this. Cheers!
