I thought that the coffee in cafés was the same stuff that I grew up watching people drink – coffee on a teaspoon out of a jar with boiling water, milk and sugar. Metaphorical shudder. I do have faint memories of my parents occasionally putting coffee on to percolate for ‘after’s’ at a dinner party – all I remember is the hilarious sucking sound it would make as it filtered through.
There was one gleaming exception in this wilderness:- one of my early bosses took his daily coffee black and strong, water poured through the ground beans in a paper filter resting in a plastic cone. It was my job to prepare this daily ritual for him and the 4 or 5 other staff. It did smell good. Interest in tasting it – nil.
Fast forward a lot of years (by now, all my grown children were regular coffee drinkers) and every few years I would smell the coffee in a café (I had finally worked out that coffee beans are somewhat superior to the instant stuff) and I would take the plunge and try one – still nothing. I would order what seemed the logical thing to order – a cappuccino -- struggle through a few mouthfuls, try in vain to find something nice to say about it, and then abandon the exercise. I concluded that coffee and I were not destined to be friends. I was a herbal tea (and chocolate) person and that must be that. Maybe people are coffee or tea people just like people are dog or cat people.
One day at work I experienced a severe respiratory attack. I was serving a customer and then suddenly I was drowning. I felt a thick, viscous tide rising up through my lungs and throat and I was unable to draw breath. I ran to the staff area and desperately tried to stabilise and regulate my breathing, gasping and coughing as I tried to shift the fluid and open up my air passage. I usually carried a puffer with me but on that day I didn’t have it.
Deliverance and rescue came in the form of the naturopath. She bade me be seated and she insisted that I drink a strong shot of black coffee. As she was explaining this to me she quickly prepared it. She stood over me while I drank it (she knew that I didn’t like coffee) and she explained that it would open up my bronchioles. I drank that shot and I fell in love. It did open up my bronchioles. It put me on a Jim Carrey high. And it took away the anxiety of the idea of not being able to breathe. I happily served customers for the rest of the day, breathing deeply and naturally.
But the coffee! I realized that what I didn’t like was the milkiness! A short, dark, strong espresso – bliss!
Most days at work will find me standing over the sink swiftly downing a shot of coffee in preparation for my day’s work. It has done wonders for me. It clears my bronchioles, ensures my mood is high, and I just like it.
One sources a wholesale green bean supplier (mine is in Everton Park – Bean Green), purchases an air popper (for popcorn), and with a few other sundry items found in any household, then one is away and running in no time.
Here is the site my friend used to demonstrate to me how simple it is to roast one’s own coffee:
http://www.coffeegeek.com/guides/popperroasting
I roast my beans (as my friend does) outside. It’s just better that way. The chaff can blow away and the smell, which can get a bit intense while inside is more easily dispersed.
Now coffee is an enjoyable part of my week. I don’t have it every day, and I am also aware of its interaction with my adrenals, but the benefits far outweigh the negatives. I love how it makes me breathe well, takes away the anxiety of possibly having a respiratory attack, puts me in a happy place (much more able to deal with difficult people!) and it just tastes exquisite.
I like single-origin coffee – that is, coffee from a particular plantation or region. Blends (in my opinion) taste of nothing in particular. One can taste more dimension in a single origin of anything – fruit, vegetables, chocolate, coffee.
I still occasionally drink a coffee from a café. But almost without exception, the brew is bitter and sometimes (quelle horreur!) burnt. I like my own coffee. It’s very little trouble to roast the beans, one-half of the price of bought-beans (whole or ground), and many times nicer to drink. I don’t have a fancy machine to make the coffee, either, but that’s just me. I like to filter it in a paper or fine-mesh cone filter. That way I can control the temperature of the water (too hot and it can make the beans bitter), I can be sure that the water is travelling through the ground beans quite fast, thus getting the first and best flavour, and I can control the strength of the coffee (I like it strong). Simplicity itself indeed.