I don’t care what the latest press says about coffee. They maintain that coffee makes folks jittery and nervous. Without it, I’m a nervous wreck — without it, I can’t sleep. I keep some fresh-brewed Java on my bedside table and it helps send me to dreamland. I should note that I’ve never required the use of sleeping aids. Nasty habit, that.
I can sometimes tell by the smell of the brew what variety is being prepared… it draws me in and bathes me in that wonderful rich smell that nothing can duplicate. When I order a drink at Starbucks and they open the drive-through window to take my payment and hand over my drink, I can’t help but breathe as deeply as my seatbelt will allow.
Coffee may be sold in a number of varieties, the two most notable being “Crap You Serve at a Gas Station”, which is an unfortunate slap in the face to a coffee bean or anyone who pays for it, and “The Only Stuff Kim Will Drink”, which is at the complete opposite end of the spectrum. It’s never crap. Never instant. I pay good money for my drug of choice.
The people who have tried coffee and decided that they can’t stand it because it’s bitter are not drinking the right kind of coffee. Why bother, if that’s all they’re doing? If you drink wine, why bother with the cheapest, nasty vinegar with a wine label? If the object is to get a coffee buzz, you might as well just chew beans and skip the styrofoam cup. Consider it your bit for the environment.
I’ve been drinking coffee since I was a toddler; it’s true, just ask my mom. I had my own little coffee cup with a unicorn prancing around, and there may have even been a rainbow. They say it stunts your growth. Good thing, too — I’m almost 6′ tall.
I don’t want to imagine what life would be like without the stuff my Grandma used to call “the food of the Gods” — she loved her coffee. Everyone in my family does, including my kids. Sorry to say that my husband has never acquired a taste for it, but it’s likely because his first experience with it was an unfortunate encounter with swill that someone called coffee but was actually used motor oil. That’s how the cheap stuff tastes to me, anyhow.
Bury me with the beans of some Jamaican Blue Mountain, honey. As long as I have some hot coffee nearby, I’ll feel alive.