A few months ago I wrote a post about why I feel like most of us actually hate coffee.
Well, hate is a strong word. But all of us have a rather strange relationship with it.
We love caffeine, we need caffeine, but are rather cavalier about the method used to get coffee. The prestige of it, the romance of the brewing process, the atmosphere of our favorite cafe – who cares anymore? In that post I resolved to take more time for myself while enjoying coffee – to never put it in a travel mug, or take it to go, or whatever.
The long and the short of the experiment: no more coffee to go. No more paper cups or travel mugs. If I wanted coffee I would sit down and enjoy it. Also, I’d try to not make coffee at the house because I was sure I wasn’t doing the best job at it.
As with any new habit, the first few weeks were absolutely solid. I was consuming far less coffee (probably a good thing) and having a lot more time for myself.
Every single person I met with for coffee was surprised when I got my drink to stay. Understandable. Most of the meetings were in the morning and everyone likely had a day stacked up ahead of them. Some seemed irritated when I sat down. I’d explain what I was doing and why and most would give a passive “oh, huh…” and then sit across from me, foot bouncing, coat still zipped up. The talk got small, it was strange.
I had more time to write. For better or worse. Sitting with coffee at a table while the world bristled around me gave me some space. When I had coffee I wasn’t working, and not working gave me time and space to think about what I actually wanted to be doing.
I didn’t notice when it happened, but the travel mug entered the picture again. I think it was right around the time we moved offices and I started taking the train to work. The mornings I had spent so much effort to create time for slimmed down considerably. More than once my coffee would be ice cold by the time I got to work and the coffee on the burner in the office kitchen would be garbage. There is no supremely good coffee in the Central Business District of Denver. This was a dark moment.
Thanks to things like Fika I discovered a handful of great new places (which I will write about eventually) and some new ways to prepare coffee. French Press is still the at-home jam, mostly because I don’t have the self-discipline to get anything new going at the house.
There are roasters in Denver who are cold brewing coffee and then serving it on nitro. This is usually a very dangerous composition that I have yet to resist.