This Life According To Lu, confessions of a coffee addict.
“For I have known them all already, known them all:—
Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons,
I have measured out my life with coffee spoons;”
I have memories of my father peppering his to-go coffee cups with vanilla & cinnamon flakes, sneaking me–his six-year-old daughter–generous sips of the greatest drink invented by man…isn’t that a bold statement considering we also invented beer? (Don’t worry, I attribute the inception of wine to God).
My obsession for coffee was instant; no hesitation or internal questioning, no plaguing doubt, but rather pure love at first sight. I have London, Starbucks, and my good ol’ Dad to attribute my addiction to.
It’s the word associated to my mornings, capable of forcing me out of bed at the earliest of hours and my favorite aroma; even some of my favorite memories. I love how, in most cities, you can buy coffee at any hour, the way the taste varies in different countries and its availability on every menu.
The way I feel about Keurig machines is similar to the way I feel about ebooks & Kindles. I will always prefer the antiquated pages of typed novel running through my fingers, the smell of fresh paper and the sound a page turning to an electronic book. I love the angry whistle and grinding a regular, cheap Mister Coffee pot makes when brewing my favorite habit, the return of a
second, or third, or fourth cup.
It’s romantic. And the kind of cool I imagine smokers enjoy about cigarette’s–only without the added repercussion of lung cancer. It’s ubiquitous, calorie-less and the culprit behind my five mile runs; the second love of my life after chocolate. I’m a sucker for well-packaged coffee grinds and intricate location mugs and the pairings of bakery goods, for international coffee beans and flavored roasts, and horribly-tasting, yet glorious & limitless diner coffee.
“What’s your favorite cup of coffee?”
A beautiful question that only true coffee drinkers can appreciate and understand. An answer that can fully acquaint you with a stranger and provide a connection, a moment of intimacy. A taste that can transport you to another memory.
Mine’s Christmas morning. When it’s actually acceptable to rise before the sun. The coffee pot remains endless. We drink from colorful, Christmasey mugs purchased in Germany at a Weihnacht’s Market. The unwrapping of presents presumes while coffee consumption occurs. And it smells like a hybrid of nutmeg, cinnamon and sugar cookies. It implies family. And a rare moment of absolutely zero stress, pure happiness–the promise of more coffee and a coffee-cake/scrambled eggs & bacon feast to follow.
There’s a coffee lingo, though the truest of coffee-addicts know “trenta” and “black” are the only words you need to know. Iced coffee, cream, sugar, latte’s, ‘iato’s and ‘cinno’s don’t qualify as a legitimate cup of coffee. And even though Starbucks isn’t my favorite, they are universal, and consistent.
Now, some of my favorite moments include sitting with my mom, dad and younger sister with a freshly brewed pot of coffee, awaiting the sun rise and the promise of the day and another cup–chatting and enjoying each other’s company while stalling time–with memories of vanilla and cinnamon sprinkles, as though every sip was the first.
Bottoms up, fellow coffee-lovers, may the grinds be never in your cup! This is life according to Lu, a coffee addict.