On coffee

by Jess

I miss coffee.  I was drinking quite a bit there before I gave it up.  Always black.  Always scalding.  Never sweetened, diluted, or lukewarm.  Perfection.

I used to drink two black, viscous cups each morning when I arrived at work, and generally another in the afternoon.  I can still have a bit, if I want, half a cup maybe, but if I’m going to do a thing, I want to do it right.  Besides, I already drink a cup of jasmine tea (sweetened with just a touch of demerara cane sugar) each morning, and it has a bit of caffeine.  I could drink decaf, but there’s something about it that keeps me from really enjoying myself.  It’s because I know I’m drinking decaf.  The whole thing is ruined.

What I wouldn’t give for a slice of cheesecake (the dense, Old World style cheesecake, original, no syrupy fruit toppings) with a cup of hot black coffee to wash down each bite.

Or a demitasse of thick, cloying café cubano.

Balzac said coffee roasts your insides.  Bring it on, coffee.  Bring it on.

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