JOURNAL FROM THE PAST: Coffee
Everything I Know About Coffee I have a love hate relationship with coffee. When I love it, I crave it. Rich, dark roast is my one and only desire. Two cream, two sweeteners; my wake-up in a cup. My best friend will often bring me this liquid gold when I am feeling blue. Heck, she will bring me coffee when I am happy, sad, angry , or bored. Coffee is a key component in our relationship; it is what ties us together. We laugh over a coffee; we cry over a cappuccino; we sit silently and wait for conversation to come over our coffee of choice; we natter on and on for hours as our coffees grow cold in the bottom of our cups. There are times, though, when I hate coffee. The thought of the tell-tale aroma of a roasted bean makes me physically ill. I don’t know what spawns this sudden change in taste, but for the life of me, I cannot bring myself to choke down one mouthful, let alone three or four cups. At the time, it tastes putrid, thick, and clotted with cream