Have you ever wondered why you love coffee so much? Think about it. Is the taste so good that nothing else compares? Is the aroma of your favorite brew so delightful that pressure and anxiety disappear? Does the sound of coffee pouring into a mug open your imaginary special place? Do pleasant memories flood your thoughts when someone says the word “coffee”?
My first cup of coffee was more like coffee-milk. The little cup held less than a measured half-cup, but I remember it just like I’m holding it now. I talked my mother into sharing and I was immediately hooked. More than a half-century later we still have the canisters that held the ground coffee from which I always asked for a sniff.
I have again discovered the pleasure of perking coffee on our gas stove in an antique glass pot. Coffee creates ambience and the aroma lingers in the kitchen well into late morning. Painfully, I also discovered that glass cook-top stoves do not work well with glass coffee pots. A large bubble under the stem exploded spewing scalding coffee all over my hand. That was about fifteen years ago, so I was happy to find gas works well for old fashioned coffee making.
I really became a serious coffee drinker while my wife and I were dating. She knew how to make great coffee taste even better with just the right amount of cream and sugar. We found over the years that coffee was something we could enjoy in a restaurant cheaply. From the Golden Bear in Kankakee, to the Junction in Dekalb, the Sunrise in Geneseo, to Coco’s in Ft. Worth, all places we hardly had two nickels to rub together, coffee sustained us.
I have to say, though, there really is something spectacular about Kona coffee in Hawaii. Oh my gosh! You can make a meal out of it! Delicious!
I don’t understand people who don’t like coffee. There are people who can’t even stand the smell! There is something wrong with that.
I wonder what kind of coffee Jesus drank. Probably the same kind God drinks. Obviously, it’s not drip coffee because that type is really not that old. Probably one of those brewed by putting grounds right in the water and then boiling it until just the right moment. Things would have been a lot easier if there was a verse that read, “Thou shalt drink Maxwell House.” Starbucks is out of luck, they’re too new.
By the way, Sanka is not coffee. It shouldn’t even be mentioned in a conversation about coffee. Postum really isn’t bad, but it’s not coffee either. Tea is for another post.
Where’s my coffee?
A Coffee State of Mind 
Dale….It’s so nice to read your words. I’m so glad you’re doing this. It’s the first time I’ve seen it.
Sooo….about coffee! I always drank hot tea.
Every time I tried coffee, I’d put sugar and milk in it like I did my tea. Ugh. Never again, I’d think. One day John and I went to visit a young couple. He was American. She was Asian descent. I’m sure she was doing what everyone did. Of course I said “yes” when she asked if I’d like a cup. I thought I was going to throw up. I really did not drink another cup until we sat in the emergency room almost 20 years later. We were waiting to see if my mother was going to live or die after her horrific episode. I’m sure you remember. The kitchen brought a huge pot of coffee to us while we waited all night. That night, I drank coffee. Hot and black.
Does Jesus drink coffee? Probably! I’ll bet HE doesn’t put sugar and milk in it!
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Hahaha thank you for your kind comments! I’ve been blogging on and off – mostly off – for a long time. I just have trouble finding the right niche and motivation. Your story reminds me of a friend who said he visited with someone who gave him some kind of fruit cake he hated. Being the kind person her was he took it but shoved it in his cheek like a hamster until he left and spit it out. That would be much worse than swallowing it! I do remember your mom, that was an awful situation. Hope you’re doing well. Blessings.
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Perfect.
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