C is for Coffee

We couldn't find the C.

is for coffee.

Duh.

Some mornings I need it, others I crave it. I try and try to keep the "need" to a minimum, because the latter is a much better experience.

I know several people who love the smell of the chopped bean and the swirling steam, but the bitter taste keeps them away. Some have a sweet tooth, some like sour foods, but I gravitate toward the earthy - and coffee is the main attraction.

Our small town has two cafes and a shop that serves coffee; I have to drive 30 minutes to the nearest Starbucks. I'm never really impressed with restaurant coffee anywhere (the cafes, all cafes as far as I can tell, serve thin, watery stuff; I tell myself it's so the farmers can chat and drink five or six cups, but I know it's not cheap to make the strong stuff), and the result is: I like my brew best.

Stirred, not shaken.

My wife says I'm a coffee snob, and I suppose that's true. We all have that special food or drink that we want to enjoy just so. It's taken many years to hone my technique, and the art of pressing coffee is not just about taste, it's about the experience. The kettle begins to sing and I chop up the beans (a few months ago I did this by hand with a spoon because my grinder bit the dust), the hot water churns up a smell that makes me close my eyes and smile, and then I stir and wait.

Four long minutes later, I pour.

The cup has to be right too. I choose the man mug, as my family calls it. Lately I've been drinking the coffee made at work during the week and making my own on the weekend. This only adds to the anticipation. There's some debate as to whether there will be wine in heaven; there's no doubt about pressed coffee.

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Read more about my theme this April in my intro to the A-Z Blogging Challenge. Or visit the home page here.