Smell the coffee
Reading through the various newspapers that now have a porch on that Internet Highway often leads me to think about how good life is at home. Today an editorial that tried to compare the two big kids on the Canadian coffee bench (you know, Timmy and that Starbuck fellow from away) helped to reassure me; my daily cuppa is “just fine”.
Without going on and on about the quality of their coffee, as those other two do, let’s analyze my place. First of all, the parking is limited. There is space for one vehicle that is there most of the time. After all, you can’t drink coffee and drive safely at the same time. If you insist on bringing your pickup when you come for a “pick up”, you can argue with the girl across the street that has managed to park in the middle of the road all winter long. Yes, the plow goes around her, but the street is now so narrow that nobody notices.
Most of the time, we’re all out of donuts. I do bring some in, but the dog is first (and last) in line. She can catch a hoop on the fly with the dexterity of a groomed circus performer. Besides, I’ve noticed that the “beignes” are fresh only until I exit the IGA. It’s a trick. Ditto for muffins; the package contains six, and we are five. If you find a spare muffin, somebody forgot to come home last night.
Now for the milk. There’s only one sort – two percent – because the others either taste like fat or blue water. We’ve decided that compromise is for those who shop elsewhere. Discerning “latte” fans will appreciate that the details are absent in my coffee place.
We do brew a great cup of coffee. The old drip machine is hidden away, and the Bodum and the magic camping cups are stored for warmer periods of the year. Here we worship at the altar of Saeco, and you can have espresso or allongé or something that has been hosed thoroughly with steam. The time for producing a hot cuppa is under a minute, even when we line up; match that, Timmy and Starry! The machine receives decalcification at random intervals, and our water is fresh from the tap. We may remove the fluorine content soon, but that’s another story.
Because this coffee bar is “green”, we wash our grounds down the sink rather than adding them to the incinerator cargo, and the coffee machine is always turned off as soon as we’re done (right? right?).
Our beans are freshly ground by professionals once every three weeks and then stored in the freezer (or a closed jar) until needed. The measure has been standarized, and we have decided corporately to only use beans from Costa Rica and Guatemala (recently rebranded as Antigua). I believe that the supplier got the maps mixed up in the glove compartment on the way home, so let’s agree that the flavour is wonderful. Slightly corsé because I can’t afford to stock those wonderful beans from a mountain in Africa that cost close to the level of precious metals. You see, here is the best detail of our coffee house; we don’t charge. Every cup costs zero dollars and zero cents, which certainly saves the hassle of making correct change every morning.
I believe that we offer a wonderful cup of java for the discerning caffeine addict, and the dog agrees. Don’t you, Java?
