In a baffling twist of fate, I realized last night that I am completely out of coffee at home. Not a single espresso pod (except for decaf, which doesn't count for life) nor coffee bean to be found. I am not sure how this happened, but I am fairly certain that the apocalypse is near.
In light of my coffeeless excuse of an apartment, I drove through Starbucks on the way to work for my morning fix. As much they're mentioned here, I actually rarely visit Starbucks proper. (Rare for an addict, of course. It's all relative.) Admittedly, the prices are a little tough to justify at times, but it is quite a treat when I visit. I get a curiously giddy feeling when I hold that warm iconic cup in my hands, which I like to imagine is how Proust's Marcel felt when nomming his madeleine. But that is purely speculation.
Instant gratification aside, there is something so sensuously special about making one's own coffee. From sniffing out delicious blends in their bags and griding the whole beans to the perfect size, to tamping the grinds* and pulling the perfectly timed shot (if you're an espresso lover like me), the process itself is an experience.
Creating a delicious beverage can be an art, and I appreciate the time invested in making something special to start one's day. A little happy with the right accessories (raw sugar, steamed soy, dash o' cinnamon, whatever you fancy) can go a long way.
Happy brewing, dear readers!
*I am kind of a sellout, though, as I inherited an espresso machine with pre-formed pods. ((hangs head))