published: 2024.10.18
tagged:
girlblogging
this week, my good friend lucidiot and I decided we’d both blog about coffee, so this is my contribution! >w<
when I was a small child, I idolized my dad. I remember seeing him drinking coffee out of his cool IT guy mugs each morning and associating the smell of brewing coffee with him and wanting to emulate that, so when I was in third grade, one morning at breakfast, I asked him if I could have a cup of coffee.
I remember my mom being like >:T “idk if that’s a good idea” and my dad being delighted and making me a cup in an old flintstones glass mug we had from mcdonald’s (this was back when fast food restaurants in the USA did fancy movie tie-ins like this) and filling it about half-full with coffee, topping it off with water, and handing it to me for me to try.
I remember scrunching my nose at how bitter it was, but it had a pleasant flavor, and I think I likely put on a brave face out of wanting to be accepted.
He asked me if I wanted cream or sugar and I think I just asked him to fix it for me like he did his and so he doctored it to his liking and handed it back to me.
Needless to say, this became somewhat of a morning ritual from then on, but only when he was home. Mom wouldn’t let me have coffee on my own.
That began a lifelong interest and enjoyment of coffee, as it was something I always associated with my dad growing up, and I really admired him as a small child, thinking he was so cool and smart, and really wanted to be just like him when I grew up (thankfully that did not end up the case, but that’s neither here nor there ).
Years later, one of the first jobs I ever had was at the campus coffee shop during my first year of university. It was some of my first exposure to espresso, lattes, and the like, and I was addicted.
Some time after that, I found myself managing a small coffee shop in my city, and I got really into it. I set to learning as much as I could about coffee beans, how and where they were grown, and what constituted “good” coffee; I became fascinated by the various types and styles of espresso machine, how to froth the perfect milk, etc. I crafted most of the menu at that shop myself, and it was a massive point of pride, even though I was being taken advantage of for my extreme enthusiasm (by being paid much less than your average shop manager - about 0.50 USD more than minimum wage at that time).
I got involved in the selection process, tasting coffee from vendors, determining what blends we’d use in the shop, crafting new latte flavors and other, non-coffee fare we also provided. I helped determine what pastries we’d source from a local bakery to sell at the shop, and I felt like I really belonged there.
It was my dream, at that time, to own a small bakery/coffee shop and to bake all of our goods in-house and provide a small amount of espresso beverages and other refreshments, and I found out about a year into working there that the shop owners wanted me to agree to buy the business from them.
Unfortunately, the shop had been losing money since before the current owners had come into it, and I was a poor university dropout with no capital of my own, so that was simply not an option. When I told them this, the shop abruptly closed down within a month or so, and I found myself without work for the first time since I had moved out of my parent’s house.
Things ended up okay, I moved in with my then-boyfriend whom I married a few years later, but it was a very stressful time. I never lost sight of that dream of owning and operating a small bakery/coffee shop and even ran one in Final Fantasy XIV as a venue in my spare time to try and recapture some of those days.
These days, nearly 20 years later, I have allowed that dream to die, much like my hopes of ever owning a home in the current economic climate. I was not born to wealthy parents, nor was my partner, and with my myriad illnesses, I know that I wouldn’t truly be able to run a shop like that anyway without having to trust other people much more than I am comfortable with; not to mention the startup cost!
Anyway, these days, I still enjoy a nice cup of coffee, usually at least once daily, sometimes multiple times a day. I’ve since swapped my regular coffee for decaf and primarily drink instant coffee out of convenience, but I still own a french press and know how to do a pour-over from my short time at Starbucks (a place I spent about six months working at following the closure of the small local shop I mentioned before).
I still stop for coffee when I’m out as a treat for doing difficult things, like going to the doctor or meeting with my therapist, as a tiny motivator for leaving the comfortable walls of my apartment; I find it helps with any negative experience I may have while away from home and reframes my experience as something positive, thus making these excursions easier to repeat in the future.
My go-to these days is usually a decaf instant coffee with a tiny bit of honey and some oatmilk to take away some of the acidity if I’m at home, or an iced latte with brown sugar and oatmilk if I’m visiting a shop.
What is your favorite coffee or coffee-adjacent drink? What sorts of memories do you associate with drinking coffee?
For me, I am always taken back to that morning at 8 years old asking for my own cup and sipping it at the kitchen table with my dad, even if only for a moment. I am reminded of my great-grandmother’s home during the holidays and the scent of chicory coffee brewing on the stovetop; I am reminded of the smells of my paternal grandparents’ home and the smell of microwaved breakfast sandwiches, my aunt cooking eggs and sausage on the stove, and the smell of a fresh pot of folgers brewing in the kitchen while I’d sleepily pick at my food.
I hope your next cup is comforting and drinkable.