Coffee—–merely typing the word conjures the memory of its alluring aroma. I loved the smell of coffee decades before I appreciated drinking it. Even the lure of emoting a desperately desired air of sophistication in college wasn’t enough to pressure me to partake. The reason is glaringly obvious now. Good coffee had never passed my lips.
Avoidance conditioning began as a child. Every morning at 5:00 AM Mom pulled out the can of Folgers, measured the required number of scoops for the percolator and added the water. Then the brewed pot of coffee sat on the stove ready to serve family and any guest who came through the kitchen door—-even if it was the next day before a guest crossed our threshold.
If the pot was drained early in the day, a fresh one was immediately brewed. Of course it was served black and it did get mighty black—mighty mighty black—make that mighty mighty mighty black if a pot lasted to the next day. No sissy cream or sugar even though we lived on a farm and had fresh cream at all times in the refrigerator.
Remember as a kid tasting vanilla straight out of the bottle with the grand expectation it was going to taste as good as it smelled? With the same anticipatory glee I took a large swallow of my first cup of coffee. My reaction—Gak! Gak! Gak! Why would adults voluntarily drink a beverage which reminded me of the time I tried to eat one of the mud pies I had ‘baked’. Bottom line I was permanently traumatized.
However kismet stepped in and changed my trajectory. Holy Moly Red Ryder, coffee made from fresh ground beans is a horse of another color completely. I donned the robe of an acolyte and became a coffee follower.
(As an aside I used the horse of another color metaphor in honor of my Mom who was fond of that saying. Since I maligned her coffee on the world wide web, it seemed right.)
Several years later I was served my first cup of coffee from a French Press. The whole procedure reeked of odd. To be polite to the hostess I was valiantly prepared to down a insipid cup of coffee, because how could that method brew a rich flavored drink. You know, sometimes its truly wonderful to be wrong.
I have reached a point in life where I think I’m ready to become a coffee snob. Well to be honest my family already thinks I’ve already become one. However NOW I want to transform into an educated snob and possibly become one of those pedantic dinner guests whom you’re soooo sorry you invited.
So to get started I joined the Camano Island Roasters Coffee Club. They have a super deal over there, I recommend checking it out https://camanoislandcoffee.com .
I know I’m buying quality fresh beans, since it’s only after an order is received that the beans are roasted. Then those flavored packed little bean buddies are immediately shipped out.
I consulted Google—the ultimate source of ALL. I learned the following qualities should be addressed when evaluating a cup of coffee: Flavor—-Aroma—–Body—-Acidity—-Sweetness—–Bitterness—-Aftertaste. All those aspects should be well balanced, so no one quality overpowers the others.
Whoa Nellie (still riding that horse of another color) that’s juggling a lot of balls in the air for a beginner. A niggling realization crept up the stairway in my mind. Oh Dear. Oh Dear. The sky is falling. I would be required to learn to appreciate coffee black. Me? Give up my milk and cream in my coffee? No, no no. Okay– and let the record show that is a reluctant okay— maybe in the name of research. My drive to become a coffee snob is pretty dang strong.
Hey life is an adventure! I am Woman! Hear me Roar! ( I switched the metaphor from horses to lions. Hear me Neigh just doesn’t have the impact).
Stay tuned boys and girls for the next episode.