The Virgin Coffee Drinker
The first cup of coffee – do you remember yours? Did you like it the first time? Was it good for you? But then you learned to lust after it, and even more you wanted it. You wanted it every morning when you woke up with that tumescent desire for it. Just the thought of it brings a smile, a pleasure.
Many a date started with that first taste of coffee – because you can judge from that first taste. I watch them as they taste it- do they stop, do they savor, do they smile? Are they tasting the coffee, or going through the motions? Do they have the ability to tell a great cup of coffee from a bitter one? Do they look at the coffee after they taste it with the lusty promise of things to come? Do they discern the finer parts of the taste – do they want to share that flavor with you? Or is that taste just a means to an end and not a part of the journey. Do they taste it, and when they do- can you perceive the shudder of Eros?
Growing up in Alaska, my first was from Hills Brothers. A company out of San Francisco.
I remember my thoughts about the first taste – tentative at first, afraid of tasting – is it gross, or is it pleasure? Would it be both? What I didn’t know with that first taste was how much I would love it, how much I would want to taste it again, and again. How much I would love it when other people would taste it- and the pleasure it would bring to them.
It has been years since that first taste. It was in Alaska, the city of Ketchikan. Mine was from Hills Brothers. In those days you would take a small walk in the forest and find an old Hills Brother’s Can.
I have an old Hill’s Brother’s can now. It is a reminder of that first taste – the trophy of a delicious memory that started me on this journey.
Tastes change in coffee – from the blonde love with canned milk, sugar, and Hills Brothers grounds, to a freshly roasted bean that has been stripped of its cellulose – one layer taken off at a time by the burr grinder – showing a bit more. Can you smell it? Was that bean dressed with care, roasted to perfection, or burned by someone with too quick a hand?
The joy of a mustache – for hours later, the faint scent enjoyed with that taste is ever-present. Ever a reminder of a new taste to come.
