The Story of Experience Coffee!: The Ritual That Is Coffee.
I didn't always like coffee. I believed coffee was that peculiar drink that my dad had to have to complete his meal. He'd add a rounded teaspoon of sugar and then add another teaspoon tip more. A few cup chime stirs and then he'd add evaporated milk. Yulk! I never liked coffee with that stuff in it. A few more cup chimes and the spoon was set on a napkin, upside down. Why? No idea! As the cup touched his lips, you'd hear the slurp of caution as he took it's temperature. "Mmmmmm!"
It wasn't until I had moved to the Bay area that I started my own "Ritual of the Bean." I lived a mile away from the Los Gatos Coffee Roasting Co. in Los Gatos, CA. Getting there early enough to get your own table, required a sacrifice: risen' with the sun. Ah, but the rewards. During the summer, entrance to the 'house was thru a wooden framed screen door that had a spring that creaked in resistance and pulled it closed with a revengeful slap. Upon entering, the first thing I'd do was something #42 wouldn't do: inhale. I can think of only a few aromas that inspire that level of pleasure. I'd grab a cup of their brew, a paper and scam a table near the door and in the front window. I never could read a whole article, people watching, don't you know. But I felt some level of importance having one of the best tables in the place as mine. Ah the Experience!
My Ritual then extended into my humble abode. It's sevenish on a Saturday morning as I pour water into the kettle. Only 3 minutes to go. I equip my favorite mug with a Melitta style brewer, which kin'a looks like a supercharger. In goes a natural paper coffee filter, not because I'm a wacko environmentalist, the coffee just tastes better that way. I grind my own beans using one of those whirling blade coffee mills. I finally figured out that they work best when held upside down, while I pretended to be a bartender who thinks the mill is a single Maraca. La Cucaracha, la Cucaracha. Exactly 15 seconds later, not 16, not 14 they're done. Sniff, sniff, sniff, sniff. Mmmmmm! By the way, did I mention that I only ground enough beans for one cup? Does that qualify as Anal? Oh well. The <wistle.wav> was my signal: water's ready. Only 30 seconds to go. Sniff, sniff, sniff, sniff. Mmmmmm! Time to disconnect the supercharger, but don't waste a drop of the juice of life. A rounded teaspoon plus a teaspoon tip more (just like my dad, hmmmm?) of sugar, a few cup chimes and just the right amount of milk. I'd grab my paper and head for the patio and start my day, my second favorite way!
chapt. 1
I didn't always like coffee. I believed coffee was that peculiar drink that my dad had to have to complete his meal. He'd add a rounded teaspoon of sugar and then add another teaspoon tip more. A few cup chime stirs and then he'd add evaporated milk. Yulk! I never liked coffee with that stuff in it. A few more cup chimes and the spoon was set on a napkin, upside down. Why? No idea! As the cup touched his lips, you'd hear the slurp of caution as he took it's temperature. "Mmmmmm!"
It wasn't until I had moved to the Bay area that I started my own "Ritual of the Bean." I lived a mile away from the Los Gatos Coffee Roasting Co. in Los Gatos, CA. Getting there early enough to get your own table, required a sacrifice: risen' with the sun. Ah, but the rewards. During the summer, entrance to the 'house was thru a wooden framed screen door that had a spring that creaked in resistance and pulled it closed with a revengeful slap. Upon entering, the first thing I'd do was something #42 wouldn't do: inhale. I can think of only a few aromas that inspire that level of pleasure. I'd grab a cup of their brew, a paper and scam a table near the door and in the front window. I never could read a whole article, people watching, don't you know. But I felt some level of importance having one of the best tables in the place as mine. Ah the Experience!
My Ritual then extended into my humble abode. It's sevenish on a Saturday morning as I pour water into the kettle. Only 3 minutes to go. I equip my favorite mug with a Melitta style brewer, which kin'a looks like a supercharger. In goes a natural paper coffee filter, not because I'm a wacko environmentalist, the coffee just tastes better that way. I grind my own beans using one of those whirling blade coffee mills. I finally figured out that they work best when held upside down, while I pretended to be a bartender who thinks the mill is a single Maraca. La Cucaracha, la Cucaracha. Exactly 15 seconds later, not 16, not 14 they're done. Sniff, sniff, sniff, sniff. Mmmmmm! By the way, did I mention that I only ground enough beans for one cup? Does that qualify as Anal? Oh well. The <wistle.wav> was my signal: water's ready. Only 30 seconds to go. Sniff, sniff, sniff, sniff. Mmmmmm! Time to disconnect the supercharger, but don't waste a drop of the juice of life. A rounded teaspoon plus a teaspoon tip more (just like my dad, hmmmm?) of sugar, a few cup chimes and just the right amount of milk. I'd grab my paper and head for the patio and start my day, my second favorite way!
