I am a coffee addict. I’m addicted to everything about it. I love the smell, the personal rituals, the sound of a real café espresso machine and the passionate way each person defends their coffee preference. I love the names; macchiato, ristretto, latte and of course the ‘event’ of having coffee itself. I love everything about it…except the taste. I can’t stand it.
My husband is Italian and having a ‘caffé’ is a big deal in
his family, but unfortunately no matter how much sugar they put in it or how
weak they
make it, I still don’t like the taste. To
me it mostly tastes like burnt cigarettes. (Not that I know what that would
taste like but that’s what is conjured up when I attempt to suffer through a
cup).
As a consequence I have always felt like an outsider at
family get-togethers and social events in general I suppose. How can you bond
with your colleagues at coffee time when you’re ordering a cup of tea? I have
never heard anyone announce early in the morning that they were “Hanging for a
cup of Darjeeling”! I wanted desperately to announce to the Barrista that I am
in fact a “Double shot latte, no sugar”, not an “English Breakfast tea with milk”.
My 32 year old Tradie brother likes to defend his beverage of choice by
proclaiming that “Real Men drink Milo”. I on the other hand am not so confident
in my request.
My preoccupation with coffee became even more pronounced
during my first pregnancy. Maybe it was because I wasn’t supposed to drink it,
but whatever the reason I was fixated on having a reusable coffee cup of my own
and being able to stand in line at our local café with my head held high. My
obsession did in fact culminate in hours spent pouring over the design of my
own ‘Keep Cup’ but sadly it was only used as a receptacle for hot chocolate.
Just when I thought my obsession couldn’t get any more ludicrous,
during my second pregnancy, I found myself watching a whole half an hour
infomercial on the shopping network about an automatic capsule coffee machine.
I had to have one!
Despite taking every opportunity to hint at the fact I would
love my own coffee machine my husband would simply rebut, “You don’t even like
coffee, that’s crazy!”
I reluctantly had to agree with him.
Then on the morning of my birthday earlier this year, I
excitedly unwrapped one of the many boxes presented to me by my wonderful
husband. I would never have expected it but there was my very own, shiny,
silver capsule coffee machine. I was ecstatic! I cleared space on the bench and
read the manual from front to back marvelling at this impressive machine. My
husband reasoned the purchase by stating that it was from the kids, as he would
never buy me such a ridiculous present. (Personally I think he was secretly
excited about it too, he is a coffee drinker after all and he did ‘happen’ to
include a packet of capsules for himself with my present!)
So now I was set for the biggest task of all, drinking it. I
started out with the weakest kind you could get and as much milk as my cup
could handle. My husband warned me that if I was going to do it without sugar
that my conditioning process might be prolonged. Consequently I added a
teaspoon of sweetener to the first few cups but to be honest it could not
drown out the bitterness. So I decided to do it hard core style and tackle the
bitter temptress head on.
Each morning now, I get my new dedicated coffee cup and go
through the process of frothing my milk and preparing my machine. I love it.
The aroma is wonderful, the ritual is calming and satisfying at the same time.
The coffee is… well, drinkable. I have
tried three different coffee types and finally found one I can swallow. It has
taken time and to be honest I rarely finish a cup. I have however finally
managed to go to a café and stand proudly amongst fellow coffee addicts and
announce “I will have a latte thanks”. So mundane to everyone else but a proud
achievement on my part. It’s a lesson to everyone out there, set yourself a
goal, work towards it and you too can acquire a new completely unnecessary
habit.
