"Espresso! My Espresso!"
An Ongoing Internet Novelette
by Randy Glass - Copyright 2002 - All rights reserved
E-mail me at email@example.com
I hope that all of you get to the point that I have finally achieved. My espresso is consistently between good and great, and boringly so. Now, don't get me wrong. I am not bragging nor at a point that I am heading to Seattle for a showdown with Schomer. Nothing of the sort. I am just at a point that I rarely toss shots down the sink and can be fairly sure that the next cappuccino will be deliciously drinkable. (*1)
Getting to that point means, to some extent, taking your coffee for granted. It can also mean that you have adjusted your palate to your coffee and nothing more. The real test comes when you offer a coffee drink to a stranger and await their reaction. Such was the case last week when I had a new roof applied to my home. One of the two workmen showed up the first day with a 16 ounce paper cup in hand. I asked, "Is that coffee?"
"Ya. From AM PM," [a mini-mart chain].
I joked with him, "As long as it isn't from Starbucks. I'd feel bad if I had sick my dog on you to chase you off my property." We talked about coffee and I told him not to bother with buying coffee on the way to work as I'd take care of him, coffee-wise, that is.
As he was about finished with the paper-cup of coffee he had brought with him that first morning I asked if he would like another, and he responded that he would, so off to the kitchen I went and Silvia was put to work. I pulled a double from some Malabar Gold that had rested just the right amount of time since I roasted it. I created an Americano (espresso in hot water) for him. It's the closest thing that I know of to a 'cup of coffee' that comes out of an espresso machine.
Just a bit later that first morning the boss showed up and I offered him the same. He talked about how he had a cup of Kona at home each morning. He had acquired a taste for it on the island on a vacation and liked to enjoy its taste as it reminded him of being back on the islands. Later in the day the boss-man had evidently taken a taste of the worker's Americano, and they both must of liked what they sipped, because they both put in orders stating that they wouldn't mind having the same when they arrived in the morning the next day.
For the following two days, the length of time they were here, as their vehicles rolled into the driveway, I would retrieve their coffee cups from their vehicles and head off to the kitchen to pull Malabar Gold Americanos to get their day started.
*1- Of course, the day after I wrote that I under-dosed one of the morning doubles, it came out as a 2 ounce,
15 second pull, and down he sink it went. "Pride cometh before a fall."