Tuesday, August 17, 2010
The Coffee Rules
“What a loving thing to do,” I pointed out to my own husband upon learning of this tradition.
Unfortunately, I have to be honest. I like to tease Mike about his glaring lack of attentiveness in light of the habits of some model husbands, but I really would not care to have coffee brought to me in bed. The whole idea is actually anathema to me. It breaks the coffee rules, of which there are many.
There must be coffee in the morning. A day without sunshine is possible to live through. A day without coffee? No.
The first cup of coffee must be served at the kitchen table. Subsequent cups may be taken outside on a nice, dry morning OR to the coffee table to be sipped while completing the daily crossword and sudoku puzzles. This allows for the support of table and chair, allowing the body time to adjust to the upright position while coffee works its magic. Once the hands are steady, then you can move with coffee in them.
Nothing should enter a coffee cup after the coffee itself has been poured into it. I use soy milk in my coffee. It has to be in the cup before the coffee is poured. I can tell the difference. Really. It is very distressing to have a restaurant waitress fill up my coffee cup and then hand my a couple of cream packets. Who trains these people? I believe it was James Bond who gave us that famous maxim: Swirled, never stirred. This rule also prevents the disgusting habit of dunking other food substances into coffee.
Coffee must taste like coffee. Dark roast, French roast, 100% Colombian, special breakfast blend, Fair Trade--it doesn’t matter--just so it tastes like coffee. Flavored coffees are an abomination. Flavored, non-dairy creamers are a crime against nature.
Coffee must contain caffeine. There are no green coffee cans in my kitchen. God clearly intended coffee to have caffeine. Who are we, mere mortals, to tinker with divine plan??
Coffee needs to be a transformative experience. Sure, that experience will differ with the uniqueness of each individual coffee drinker, but for me the transformation can only happen after I stand upright, stagger and careen my way down the hall into the kitchen, hold the steamy mug in my shaky hands, inhale the pure aroma, and take that first cautious sip. Only then can I open my eyes to the wonders of a new day. Bad dreams and night time worries are banished. Even my hair relaxes a little.
Now, would I want my husband to deprive me of an awakening ritual that has started my day for so many years? Would I care to have him interject himself in my long standing and jealously guarded relationship with coffee? Not for all the tea in China.