I Confess: My Love Affair With Coffee
- Image by litlnemo via Flickr
This love for coffee started with my grandmother who began serving me coffee at the age of 5 during my many visits with her. She was a comfort in her own way, always a giving and loving soul. Her home was the gathering place for our extended family every Sunday during my childhood. I spent so much time with her that she was like a second mother to me. She awoke every morning at 5:00 a.m. and the first thing she did was to brew coffee in one of those old glass pots. The aroma would waft to my second floor bedroom where I was safely tucked under one of her homemade down comforters. Off came the comforter and downstairs I would go to join my grandmother on the sun-porch as we watched the dawn break in silence together.
And so my lifelong love affair with coffee began. It is my comfort food and never lets me down. Unlike lovers, it is always there when I need a pick-me-up and is always there when I need warmed in my soul. These days I have my own ritual. I bought a coffee maker that grinds the beans and then drizzles 10 cups of delicious comfort into the pot. In it I put flavored creamer and two packs of Splenda. Most importantly, it must be in a porcelain cup, delicate enough for me to hold for long lengths of time. The first pot is made in the morning and another 10 cups around 4:00 in the afternoon. This lasts me through the evening. Caffeine long ago lost its ability to keep me awake at night or give me “the jitters.” Other life issues may give me the jitters, but certainly, never coffee.
I will also confess that at one point in my life I used to put in a shot of Apricot Brandy. Ah, the comfort. I quickly realized that it was getting good to me—too good. I stopped with the Brandy and went back to straight coffee. Now it is with me wherever I go, even while driving. I will sometimes make a stop at Starbucks for a Skinny Iced Caramel Macchiato or perhaps Mickey D’s for their own good version of iced caramel coffee. Such simple luxuries make life wonderful.
My parents loved coffee too, so there is no doubt that sweet memories are associated with this addiction. My parents would often sing together. They harmonized beautifully, a gift they failed to pass on to their daughter from the gene pool. Still, I can hear them singing the Java song from their era. I smile, lift my cup and toast them and my grandmother for the good memories. And while I sit at this computer, you can be assured that coffee in a porcelain cup is beside me, offering inspiration and comfort as I hit the spell check key.
—cher
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My mom started me with coffee too, because I wanted to be a big boy and do whatever the grownups did. She’d make me a cup with about half milk and 2 teaspoons of sugar.
I kept up the habit long into adulthood, always with cream, but weening off quite so much sugar, then settling for one packet of equal. (And decaf, to fight the jitters.) I don’t drink much coffee any more though. Last couple years, it was winter weekends only, till last winter when I just stopped.
But as a kid, about 3rd or 4th grade, Mom taught me how to make the coffee too. So then every Saturday and Sunday, I’d get up early and make a pot in our big, metal coffee pot, then pour a cup of black for Dad and one with cream for mom, and bring it up to their room. I’d then scoot back down and get my own cup, and rejoin them in their bedroom for our communal cuppa.
And I kept THAT up until 10th grade, when the lure of sleeping until noon trumped all other concerns.
MY grandmother started me on coffee when I was VERY small!! Does this come as a surprise to you??? My parents didn’t harmonize, BUT my grandmother and other family members would sit on her back porch, and harmonize in the evenings! She rocked me until I was at least 12 years old, sitting in a rocker on her back porch,with everyone singing!!
Do I know you? Are we related??
xoxo,
J.
bluzdude,
What a great story! As I have told you several times, your parents sound like terrific people and they certainly raised you well. No one ever served me coffee in bed, but my daughter always had a fresh pot of coffee waiting for me when I got home from work.
See what I mean about coffee being like a good lover?
Judie, Judie, Judie,
There was a line in one of those old Cary Grant AMC movies where he says, “Judie, Judie, Judie! I gave you kisses for breakfast, kisses for lunch and kisses for dinner and now I find you’ve been eating out!”
Your story was amazingly similar, my ‘sister’! Cheers to you, to our beloved grandmothers, and to harmonizing. I raise my coffee cup to you!
Hugs,
cher
I love coffee … I love reading about coffee … lol … another great read … thanks
I’m shocked by all these enabling grandparents. LOL! I didn’t start drinking coffee till I was 31 and tried the Atkins diet. Coffee was one of the beverages allowed, so I began drinking it. I only have one or two cups a day, but it gets my morning off to a good start! I think almost more than the taste I love the smell, and it goes so well with a danish!
beth Simpson,
Thanks so much for stopping by and for the kind comment. Just made a fresh pot!
Melody,
Thank goodness for enabling grandparents! You’re right; the aroma of fresh coffee is almost as good as the taste. One or two cups would only whet my appetite, though.
doh rey me fa so la tee doh!! Let’s get together and sing the songs our grandmother taught us! I know! I’ll sing them on the beach, and you listen!!
xoxo
Judie,
Okay, you sing and I’ll sing solo (so low you can’t hear me!) That was one of my mother’s requests of me–to sing so low. She also asked that I sing “High On a Hill”—not the song just sing high on a hill. Of course, she requested several times that I also go play in traffic. No, really, she did! What’s wrong with this picture?
A car runs of gasoline,
A truck uses diesel
A blogger runs on coffee…
I began my coffee career with coffee and chicory essence that my father was want. That later manifested into instant coffee, all before I was 12. Now that I am in Brazil I have been spoilt with the best coffee in the world from waking to last thing at night. Strong Brazilian coffee, jitters, never knew them, sleepless nights, I am unconscious as soon as my head hits the pillow. Some days I exist on coffee and it is only late in the evening that it dawns on me that I haven’t eaten. I am 79% addicted to coffee according to the evaluation widget that appears on some of my blogs, I was disappointed at such a low rating.
Nice to see a flag counter here, I was able to give you your first Brazilian flag. They are a fun way to keep track of your visitors. I have a page devoted to my being a Flag Tramp and track new countries visiting my blogs.
Caffeine Fiends Unite! *raises fist in the air*
AV
You have to hear me!!! And you will, I know! If I have any access to a computer I will send you a message, and you will know just when to listen. I have done this before, MANY years ago and I know that it works. It is called SORTING. You will be able to sort out my song.
xoxo
My Sicilian grandmother also served coffee to my sister and I at a very young age. Coffee seems so US centric, and I think its because we as a country never really took to tea(for obvious reasons); however I’m glad the melting pot kept the cultural traditions of really good coffee alive, and it has flourished in the last decade or so. My wife bought me an espresso maker for my birthday a few years ago..one of those upper end stainless steel jobbers. I have used it so much that it barely crawls along now. Guess I might have to throw down some “real” cash and get a commercial one. Coffee is not a mere love affair, it is my passionate European mistress. It is that canary yellow sports car that I can ill afford. It is my life long mid-life crisis coping mechanism, that started with a small sip of espresso after a homemade tiramisus. Love is not a strong enough word. Passion comes closest.
AV,
“A blogger runs on coffee.” What a great and appropriate line! Your background is so interesting. We all know of the great Brazilian coffee, but I have never ‘met’ anyone from Brazil. As it happens, I am the same way about food. Often, it is late in the evening before I realize that I’ve had nothing but coffee all day. Thanks for the tips on the flags. I changed colors on the counter last night and lost a few, but I’m hoping they will be back. Here’s to Brazil and excellent coffee!
To our readers: You can find a link to AV’s terrific blog on our front page blogroll. Please visit Blogger’s Cafe. You will not be disappointed.
Quell,
Your quote, “Coffee is not a mere love affair, it is my passionate European mistress. It is that canary yellow sports car that I can ill afford. It is my life long mid-life crisis coping mechanism…,” is priceless and says it all so beautifully. The word ‘passion’ really does come the closest to describing a coffee lover’s addiction.
My grandmother taught all her children and grandchildren the proper way to make tea, and I do like a nice cup – although my grandmother probably turns in her grave every time I make it incorrectly.
But coffee, ah, coffee. Good and strong. The flavour – good in everything! I’m doing “Skinny” Starbucks, too. Have you tried a tsp. of chocolate syrup, plus regular cream or milk; it’s very nice.
We did car singing when on long drives with my grandmother, uncles, cousins. It was always fun. My mother used to sing as she did her housework, lots of old songs that have stuck with me.
Chris J,
When my very British Mum-in-law was with us, she taught me the Tea Ceremony and the proper way to prepare and serve it. With the tea, which was always served in china cups, saucers and tea pot, came “bics” which were the British equivalent of our cookies. We would bring her home every weekend from her assisted living environment, and while she was here, tea was promptly served at 4:00. It was a fun ritual, but I only drank the tea to please her.
I will try your chocolate syrup and cream suggestion. Sounds yummy! Isn’t it wonderful having the memories of singing with family as children? I doubt they knew what a lovely impact it had on us.
I already have done a post about singing – thanks to you (which I did formally). I love these connections that other’s ideas generate – the posts seem to almost write themselves.
Chris J,
I just read your post. It was so sweet and I truly enjoyed it. There is such beauty in blogging friendships, isn’t there?
Cher I didn’t know you loved coffee so much ?
Blue Mountain Iced with a shot of 12 year old appleton gold is a great late nite bloggers pick me up. I only have one every blue moon but I must confess it is delicious.
RE,
That sounds like a great drink, but you’re right—once every blue moon. Thanks for the tip, Sweetie!
What a great story. Your porcelain cup looks like one in a collection that was handed down to me from my own Grandmother. It is amazing how certain tastes and smells are so intertwined with good memories that it’s hard to say which is really the cause of why we love it so much.
Ever since our boys were babies I have especially loved my coffee. Morning coffee time is a special time that my husband and I share together just the two of us. It’s hard to distinguish if I love my cup of joe so much because I needed it after sleep deprived nights or because this time with my husband is such a special part of our relationship. Either way, I love it!
Tina T,
There is something to sharing moments with others while drinking coffee. Our house is often filled with out-of-town guests, and I know the ones who expect a freshly brewed pot of coffee to be at the ready. We sit in our large breakfast nook and enjoy the moments. Now that is savoring the moments!
My love affair is a more tawdry affair. It began in college with a little curly-Q metal rod to heat up water and a generous scoop of Folger’s crystals. It was not to be enjoyed, but merely a tonic to stay awake for study.
After college, in the 80s, there were no gourmet coffee stores. Thus, I developed a two- or three-cup-a-day habit on convenience store coffee. Nasty stuff in glass pots that sat on a burner for hours and hours. It was all we had and we were grateful.
Then, along came this Starbucks thing. Others followed. Finally, coffee drinkers could emerge from the shadows and back alleys and enjoy our addictions in the proper light of day. We were accepted and emancipated. Viva la coffee.
Carpetbagger,
Oh gosh, I remember that electric curly-Q rod from college days too! Many nights it helped me as I crammed for exams, pulling all-nighters. And here we are today, “emancipated” and free to enjoy our ever-lovin’ coffee. Cheers, Bagger!
I was curious about where that energy came from
I saw a cartoon of a cat once,hair all standing on end, muscles flexed, back arched, and trembling from head to toe. And the caption read ” I Am Relaxed”
Thanks for the smiles and support.
Grandparents and coffee…. by all of the responses, this seems to be more popular than I’d realized. My grandparents enabled my love for coffee, as well. My grandfater lived like a king, and we were all expected to cater to him. My grandmother would brew the morning coffee, and I acted as his “waitress”. I would carefully knock at his bedroom door with a cup of coffee in one hand, and the newspaper in the other. I’d often wondered if he would ever have the ability to emerge from his chambers without coffee (if it weren’t for my grandmother). When she became too ill to brew – he hired a maid, who carried on this tradition until he passed.
After dinner, there was always another fresh pot to be made. I learned very young that it took two and a half scoops of ground coffee to satisfy his taste. Sometimes, I would add an extra scoop, for good measure…. I can still hear his objection, “TIFFY, how much did you put in there?” If only there were a fancy coffee pot, like your own, back in those days.
I guess theres a lesson that he’d taught me…. Don’t let the kids brew the coffee. Thanks for sending me on a walk down memory lane.
Tiffany,
Thank you for sharing a great story! BTW, I know from personal experience that you make grrreat coffee!