Ahhhhh...

Coffee--I wasn't always a coffee drinker.  As I child I didn't care for it although everyone around me drank it.  The stainless steel percolator sat on a low, gas fire for hours, ready for anyone who needed a lift.  It was college when I finally took it seriously, deciding in my freshman year to stay up all night with coffee and chocolate candy.  I can't really say pulling an all nighter improved my exam grades, but I did grow to love coffee.  About ten years ago I switched from regular coffee to mostly espresso, finding the strong, rich taste of it in preference to regular coffee that has come to taste like coffee flavored water.

Coffee is one of those things that pops up at special moments in our lives whether it's a guest dropping by for a visit, the finish to a great meal, the stimulant to keep us going when we should be giving up and resting.  It's there when we celebrate, when we mourn, when we share life stories, when we commiserate, when we're bored, when...well, no end to the 'whens'.  

And coffee is so personal.  Some of us want it laced with sugar and cream, black enough to float a horse shoe;  very few of us care not a whit how our coffee is served.  The way we take our coffee can even define us.  Let's say a cowboy and a hippie are waiting for the coffee order to come up.  The barista yells out coffee black and latte with soy.  Betcha we all know who gets what. 

And the vessels from which we drink?  In our homes we have our favorite cup, mug, glass...  And pity the poor houseguest who inadvertently grabs your personal cup--the one that you start the day with; the one that fits your hand perfectly, the balance just so.  Creatures of habit that we are, a whole day can go up in smoke if we start it with the wrong brew in the wrong cup.

And oh the devastation when that cup finally bites the dust.  It can never really be replaced.  So we have to break in a new one, grow to trust it, to love it, to understands its strengths and weaknesses and to teach the world hands off buster.  A new cup's in town, but it's not yours.  Mine. Mine!  MINE!!

My worst coffee experience was the time I put salt in my coffee on a plane trip thinking it was sugar.  Yuck!  One of my best experiences was traditional Arabic coffee served in the palace of Sheik Nahyan in the United Arab Emirates.  Served in a tiny demi-tasse, this brew is guaranteed to put hair on your chest whether you want it or not.  But it is served with such panache, pride, and hospitality that the drinking of it becomes ceremony, an experience unto itself with the aroma of cardamom forever afterward calling up sense memories of camels crossing red, sand dunes and turquoise seas shimmering under a desert sun. 

Another favorite caffeine experience is the cowboy coffee served from an enameled coffee pot over an open fire at an Thanksgiving celebration I've been privileged to attend in Prescott several Novembers. Matriarch, friend and mentor Elisabeth Ruffner presides over this opening ritual. High mountain deserts, forests and big skies scalloped by mountain ranges serve as the backdrop.

But nothing beats that first early morning cuppa taken on a deck or porch, feet up, with distant views of a sun sneaking over the horizon.  Now that is perfection.

Add your coffee experiences to this Blog in the comment section.