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.