THE CONFECTIONIST: Cafe Au Lait

Wednesday, April 22, 2009

Cafe Au Lait

I'm fascinated by the omnipresence of coffee. People wake up in the morning and the first thing they do is make a fresh cup. Millions of people are drinking coffee at this very moment— decaf, tall, grande, large, small, cappuccino. There is probably a gas station at which you can pump the coffee yourself, a unique little coffee shop, or a Starbucks around the corner. Coffee
 does not stop at its diversity of flavors and pungency; with all of the extras you may add, one could write a novel. Sugar, cream, saccharine filled sweetener, chocolate, caramel... the list goes on.  None of those appeal to me, for I am a purist (or so I like to think). I like coffee with milk (soy) or what the Italians call caffe latte. This is my favorite drink; a day without it, is a day incomplete. When it's hot outside an iced latte cools me off while providing me with the utmost delight. If it's mid-December a hot latte has a way of warming me and my cold hands up, as my wintery-chapped mouth slowly absorbs the rich flavors.  
If it would provide me with the nutrition doctors say I need, cake and coffee is all I'd consume in a day. I'm not the only one in my family with great-taste— it's genetic. I remember Dad telling me, that when he was just a lad, he'd walk into the kitchen  and on numerous occasions his parents would be sitting around the table with friends and shmoozing over coffee and cake.  I remember the first time I enjoyed coffee was with my father, when I was a young girl. Dad was taking me to buy house-slippers for my cold feet; they were pink with one white embroidered clock on either shoe. Instead of going straight home after our purchase he turned to me half-smiling and said, "Rachael I have a surprise for you." I remember anxiously waiting for Dad to arrive at this "surprise" destination. He finally parked the car and there it was. On the outside there was a sign with a funny shaped woman on it, and I asked what "Starbucks" meant. Dad explained that it was the name of a new coffee shop, first established in Seattle. I never tasted a drop coffee until that day. We went in, and he ordered a tall latte with skim milk. After his first sip, he used the word "superb" as  he always does when describing something he likes. I tried the foreign drink after it cooled, and admitted that I too like the taste of the latte. I vividly remember the cozy velvet chairs we sat in as we absorbed the atmosphere of this new coffee-house, that I would later describe as American imperialism at it's best
As I reflect on that day I wonder if I actually enjoyed the taste of coffee or just said I did because I've always wanted to be just like my father, which at the time entailed doing and saying everything he did. Whatever the answer may be, today, I whole-heartedly, genuinely and willingly enjoy the aromatic warm flavors coffee. 


No comments:

Post a Comment