Coffee. Just hearing the word brings the aroma, the taste, the sensual pleasure of drinking it right smack up to front of my mind.
Seeing the written word, doesn’t seem to have any effect on me.
But let me get a whiff of brewing coffee, or freshly ground coffee, and I am craving a hit of that dark, rich heaven in a cup.
The elixir of life.
Is perfect for solitary time
We have often joked that the Klindienst coat of arms should be a hand passing a coffee cup. A golden cup brimming with dark rich coffee curls of “flavor fingers” reaching ever upward.
Some of us are insufferable coffee snobs (me) and have been known to walk out of restaurants that cannot serve a proper cup of coffee. That is a lot of restaurants, the world over.
My solution here in the City of Peace on the Bay, I am well known, and surprisingly well-liked enough to be allowed to bring my own coffee carafe into breakfast restaurants. They even supply a cup! I won’t do this at fine dining restaurants, but I have threatened to.
Some of us enjoy a good cup of coffee, know a great cup of coffee, but will be satisfied with a good cup of coffee.
And others, the slightly less discerning will drink any swill that is dark brown and hot. I think that they were dropped at birth or married in.
And so this little rant of mine started at 5:26 a.m. when stumbling in the dark so as not to awaken my Beloved, I stubbed my toe on the bed frame, stepped on the dog who yelped and ran away not at all hurt, and then used my favorite expletive, it starts with an F. He did wake and ask the time. Time…well that is for another time! This is about coffee.
I was charging up my Dulce Gusto one cup wonder, and still reeling from the life enhancing, mind bending smell of my coffee cupboard. Can you smell it? Take a deep breath. Oh heavenly mother and all the saints, this is, this is, this is coffee! I swoon.
Then like a thunderbolt, or the stern admonishing that Miss Meliss gave me over Christmas, I stop, cock my head and hear the words. “Write about this. Do it now!”
I grabbed my phone ( wouldn’t my dear parents looking down from heaven since the 90s be thinking I was going senile, grabbing my phone to take a photo?) and snapped the photos you see here.Because a blog post needs photos.
In the last 16 years of our exile here in Baja California Sur. Since November 8th, we call ourselves exiles, not expats, I have seen the demise of at least two Krups and one Braun coffeemakers. It is our hard water. No amount of vinegar or specialized cleaner or even a shaman’s spells could save them. On the advice of coffee drinking friends, I bought a local brand coffee maker. I am on my second one. The first one just stopped. Just stopped making coffee. This one is dying a slow death.
This cute Dulce Gusto pod coffee maker came home with us after Hurricane Odile. We were on day 8 of 13 days without electricity. We went to town every day to have a good meal, charge up our devices and enjoy air conditioning. We were in a department store slowly pretending we were shopping like the rest of the population from our side of the bay.
He saw it first, my ever so Beloved. There she was sparkling, a lovely blue with Frida’s face and torso on the front.
“This is cute” he said.
“I love it” said I.
So we bought the pot and some pods. Then we went home and looked at her for 6 more days until the power was restored. Frida poured out cup after cup for two years, but just before Christmas refused to do anything but sit there. I tried to make it work between us. But she refused.
Too cute to throw away, Frida resides in the coffee garage.
And now I have Chrome Boy.
Admittedly, this is not the best coffee, but I have figured out when to stop the water flow and can get a pretty decent cup. Especially at 5:26 in the morning.
And thank you Venus, Mars and the former planet Pluto for Jaime and his gifted roasting. And to the guy in the village, Coffee Eberhart that will take my coffee orders and then deliver kilos of coffee to my house.
Miss Meliss has been preaching about her latest coffeemaker, the Coffee Ninja (that is its real name) and how she wants me to have one. She wants to send one to me for my birthday. I demurred.
“No, Darling, a gift certificate at Gorgeous Fabrics will be fine.” I mean one does not want to appear grasping and greedy.
But I am waiting for the Amazon shipping notice.