The nectar of the gods
Smooth. Rich. Dark. Steamy.
For those of you not thinking about Denzel Washington or Halle Barry, I am actually talking about the nectar of the gods - heaven in liquid form - coffee.
There have been few jobs in my life that I have thoroughly enjoyed. I worked at a jewelry store and the main thing that made me come to work everyday (no matter how perpetually late) was a group of friends. The other job that I enjoyed involved the coaxing of that blissful indulgence known as coffee from the latent vessel of the bean. I was a barista.
Now, the reasons for my entrance in barista-hood were to follow a friend I admired, experience the intellectual sparring behind the counter and get some chicks. The first two were fulfilled most expediently. The last took some time. I had to develop my skills until they were Cocktail-like. The flipping of the whip cream cans were a blur as the grinder hopper whirred and let escape the aroma of ecstasy. Within a couple of minutes, the result was finished and with artistic flair, handed to the expectant customer with salivating palate and I had the admiration of the entire cafe. The best part of working in that small cafe was getting to lead the customers in "Happy Birthday" when someone let slip that they were celebrating.
I can't help but note that the true enjoyment of a cup of coffee takes some time to develop. I can remember, before my palate had matured, heating up a cup of water and mixing in some, dare I say, General Foods International Blend of Cafe Vienna. A friend of mine recounted her boyfriend's method of drinking his coffee: "He drinks coffee like an eight-year-old girl. First, he asks the waiter to fill the cup three-fourths of the way up. Then, he puts in three non-dairy creamers, three packets of sugar and three cubes of ice." Eight-year olds, dude.
Thankfully, my similar experiences with restaurant coffee came to a close with a $17.00, quarter pound bag of Jamaican Blue Mountain The Holy Grail of coffee. It's like a pound of crack to the addict. A full pound will sell for about $50 in the States. It is the smoothest, richest, most incredible cup of coffee you will ever have the pleasure of drinking. Ever since I tasted that straight-from-the-gods cup of coffee, I feel as if the rest of my existence is just the passing of time until that next cup.
Kick back, grab a cup and share some coffee stories!
For those of you not thinking about Denzel Washington or Halle Barry, I am actually talking about the nectar of the gods - heaven in liquid form - coffee.
There have been few jobs in my life that I have thoroughly enjoyed. I worked at a jewelry store and the main thing that made me come to work everyday (no matter how perpetually late) was a group of friends. The other job that I enjoyed involved the coaxing of that blissful indulgence known as coffee from the latent vessel of the bean. I was a barista.
Now, the reasons for my entrance in barista-hood were to follow a friend I admired, experience the intellectual sparring behind the counter and get some chicks. The first two were fulfilled most expediently. The last took some time. I had to develop my skills until they were Cocktail-like. The flipping of the whip cream cans were a blur as the grinder hopper whirred and let escape the aroma of ecstasy. Within a couple of minutes, the result was finished and with artistic flair, handed to the expectant customer with salivating palate and I had the admiration of the entire cafe. The best part of working in that small cafe was getting to lead the customers in "Happy Birthday" when someone let slip that they were celebrating.
I can't help but note that the true enjoyment of a cup of coffee takes some time to develop. I can remember, before my palate had matured, heating up a cup of water and mixing in some, dare I say, General Foods International Blend of Cafe Vienna. A friend of mine recounted her boyfriend's method of drinking his coffee: "He drinks coffee like an eight-year-old girl. First, he asks the waiter to fill the cup three-fourths of the way up. Then, he puts in three non-dairy creamers, three packets of sugar and three cubes of ice." Eight-year olds, dude.
Thankfully, my similar experiences with restaurant coffee came to a close with a $17.00, quarter pound bag of Jamaican Blue Mountain The Holy Grail of coffee. It's like a pound of crack to the addict. A full pound will sell for about $50 in the States. It is the smoothest, richest, most incredible cup of coffee you will ever have the pleasure of drinking. Ever since I tasted that straight-from-the-gods cup of coffee, I feel as if the rest of my existence is just the passing of time until that next cup.
Kick back, grab a cup and share some coffee stories!
5 Comments:
Eight year olds dude.
-My name is Loomis and for five hundred dollars I will brew Jamaican Blue Mountain coffee for you and your wife.
Were it not for the fact that I would have had to take a pay cut, I'd have left jewelry for coffee when I was younger and screwing around. Only for the fact that I'd get to hang out with tattooed barista chicks and hot alt bookstore nerds all day long. It's like getting paid to be horny.
Once upon a time I spent an afternoon at a coffee shop in hopes of meeting my own dreamy intellectual sparring partner.
I did in fact strike up a conversation with a guy who turned out to be a psychology grad student. Good sign, right?
He showed up to our first date in a Pigpen cloud of Polo cologne. Yes, Polo. As in, favorite choice of 1980s preppy junior high boys everywhere.
A few dates later, we were discussing how to spend the first truly spectacular Saturday afternoon of spring. I voted for walking that trail between Galloway Station and the Nature Center. He voted for going to the mall to buy some more cologne.
Somewhere in there, I left a message on his answering machine. I called him Brian. I can't remember what his name was, but it was not Brian.
The End came after a phone conversation just after he'd returned from a trip back to Pennsylvania to visit family. He'd played Scrabble with some friends while he was there, and he was still mulling over something that happened during the game. Had I ever heard, he wanted to know, of the word "wade"? W-A-D-E? This girl had played it, he'd never heard of it before and challenged her, and shocker, he LOST.
Yes, Virginia, even stark raving idiots hang out in coffee shops. I'll take mine at home, please, and black.
And really, if you are connecting a W-A-D-E with another word you don't have a lot of points anyway. He should have just let it go. Wade, waded, there's not much you can do with that. Wade, oh oh, what about AWE, AWED, DEW or AD? Those would work...
Oh, we're not playing right now?
Just like Mrs. Tool, I'll take mine at home, please, and black. I'll also have some coffee.
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