"Espresso! My Espresso!"
An Ongoing Internet Novelette
by Randy Glass - Copyright 2002 - All rights reserved
E-mail me at firstname.lastname@example.org
What Do You Mean, You "Don't Drink Coffee"?
Over June 5, 6, 7 wifee and I took some time away from home with the GS dog and celebrated our 30th wedding anniversary (send no gifts, please.). Of course, being away from Silvia and Rocky for two mornings could have been tough if I hadn't made plans ahead of time. Fortunately, I had enough insight to roast up a "cupping-blend" of equal parts of Colombian, Brazilian (which I could've/should've left out), Mandheling, and Yemen Mocha, each roasted separately to medium dark (just a bit of oil) and then ground about as coarse as Rocky goes. This, along with my Bodum press pot, was packed with the rest of the vacation goods.
Four batches in the HWP makes about 10 ounces of coffee, and as we don't drink that much normally, I knew that it would go stale before I got to all of that, so when we got to the cabin where we stayed the two nights I asked the caretaker/owners if they drank coffee with the purpose of giving them a good portion of the blend. "No," the owner responded dejectedly. "We are into homeopathic healing and coffee is one of the things we aren't allowed to drink."
I explained to her what I had brought, "...and I home roast and blend my own coffee..." and it's not at all bitter, and it's low in caffeine, and all the satisfaction of a Spring shower, and the rest of the commercial.
Her eyes became glassy and sort of rolled back into her head, and with a smile that told of joys of the past she explained that she use to drink coffee, and it's one of the things she misses most about her current diet, and that my blend sounded delicious!
The next day we met the young couple in the cabin two down from ours. They also had a dog along and as it was an easy conversation starter I went over there and introduced myself. We spoke for a while, and I finally asked her if they would like some coffee, fresh-roasted, home blended, Spring shower, running barefoot through fields of flowers, blah, blah, etc.
"No," the wife replied. "My husband doesn't like coffee and I quit drinking it anyway- I'm 4 months pregnant."
I had to look around- O.K.. All the signs are in American English and the sky is still the proper shade of blue. I was beginning to wonder what planet I had landed upon.
Usually, I show up anywhere with a jar of my ground home-roast, open the jar, and the folks come out of the woodwork, glazed looks, holding out empty coffee cups at arm's length, shuffling towards me- a la "Night of the Dark-Roasted-Colombian-Sipping Zombies."
Those of you who home roast know all about this. The aroma from a jar of home-roasted coffee is about as rich and tempting as an aroma from food can be. I can open a jar of beans in the kitchen and in a few seconds I hear wifee in the next room going, "Yummm...." and making other satisfied noises.
So there I was, overlooking beautiful Lake Almanor, holding a good sized jar-full of pre-ground that smelled better than anything most folks had ever experienced, coffee-wise, and I literally couldn't give the stuff away.