The Best Part Of Waking Up
Warning: As I sit here I'm guzzling a Venti Iced Skinny Caramel Latte (per usual), and have lost the ability to not think/speak a mile a minute. You're welcome.
Somewhere around grad school, I developed an affinity
addiction
for coffee. I rationalized the uptake of this lifestyle due to beginning graduate school and the subsequent promotion into a new job that requires me to be on call 24/7/365. And since 1 + 1 = 2 that meant I got 0 sleep. For four years.
The urban gal that I am had never made a pot of coffee. I mean, I've "seen" a coffee pot, but the inner workings of producing liquid sunshine - no clue. So I spent "an absorbent amount of money" (name that movie) to have the kind folks at Starbucks, Kaldi's, (insert coffee shop name - here -) prepare it for me. Which, I count at networking, cuz I made loads of friends. Barista's are the backbone to society, and the sole reason I never climbed to the top of my building late at night and jumped.
Note: Please make sure there is an Espresso bar at my funeral. Full fat lattes. With whip. Go all out, I would've wanted it that way. But don't "tip a forty to my homeys" and spill a drop. Cuz that is essentially a hate crime. Don't waste.
When I started my big kid job (almost) eight years ago (eek!) on my way to the kitchen I asked if anyone needed anything. My boss requested a cup of coffee. "Sure!" I replied in my most "I'm right on top of that Rose!" (name that movie) attitude. Enter kitchen. See coffee pot. Get cup. Add coffee - - - mutter to self aloud, "um, do I put stuff in it?". Take said cup to boss, dump out the contents of my hands/pockets onto the table (he's looking at me funny by this point) as I explain in word vomit how the "kind people at Starbucks" make my daily mug of love, and I have no idea what any of this is, so I brought you some of everything. He laughed. I was mortified. Thank God my job did not depend on me delivering the perfectly made cup of java, I would've surely gotten the boot.
Anyway, grad school ends (finally), and life returns back to normal. Until these two came into my (our) lives earlier this year. Any semblance of routine was throw out the window, and we, bleary eyed and sleep deprived trudged through days with one eye open.
Reaching out, asking questions, and googling my heart out I found the answer to my prayers (and salvation of my checking account). So one day, in a sleep deprived haze, I stopped on my way to trial and bought this beauty. The thirty minutes spent in the coffee aisle trying to decipher what kind of coffee to get was comical. I can only imagine the things I muttered aloud to myself...
Armed with the advice of Amy (thanks again Amy!) I set off to brew a beautiful pot of coffee. I even set the timer so I/we could wake to the smell of fresh brewed coffee (and dog urine - oh the joys of puppies and potty training) like in the Folgers commercials. Enter the kitchen, elated to FINALLY have my prayers answered. Procure two mugs so we can each partake in this miracle, grab the carafe and exclaim - Where's all the freaking coffee?!?!
To save you from embarrassment if you are the other person in all 'Merica that can't brew coffee, these articles - here, here, here are for you.
And, because you asked (pretend like you did), unless it involves french fries or ice cream, my personal favorites (thus far). In order of preference.
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Somewhere around grad school, I developed an affinity
The urban gal that I am had never made a pot of coffee. I mean, I've "seen" a coffee pot, but the inner workings of producing liquid sunshine - no clue. So I spent "an absorbent amount of money" (name that movie) to have the kind folks at Starbucks, Kaldi's, (insert coffee shop name - here -) prepare it for me. Which, I count at networking, cuz I made loads of friends. Barista's are the backbone to society, and the sole reason I never climbed to the top of my building late at night and jumped.
Note: Please make sure there is an Espresso bar at my funeral. Full fat lattes. With whip. Go all out, I would've wanted it that way. But don't "tip a forty to my homeys" and spill a drop. Cuz that is essentially a hate crime. Don't waste.
When I started my big kid job (almost) eight years ago (eek!) on my way to the kitchen I asked if anyone needed anything. My boss requested a cup of coffee. "Sure!" I replied in my most "I'm right on top of that Rose!" (name that movie) attitude. Enter kitchen. See coffee pot. Get cup. Add coffee - - - mutter to self aloud, "um, do I put stuff in it?". Take said cup to boss, dump out the contents of my hands/pockets onto the table (he's looking at me funny by this point) as I explain in word vomit how the "kind people at Starbucks" make my daily mug of love, and I have no idea what any of this is, so I brought you some of everything. He laughed. I was mortified. Thank God my job did not depend on me delivering the perfectly made cup of java, I would've surely gotten the boot.
Anyway, grad school ends (finally), and life returns back to normal. Until these two came into my (our) lives earlier this year. Any semblance of routine was throw out the window, and we, bleary eyed and sleep deprived trudged through days with one eye open.
Reaching out, asking questions, and googling my heart out I found the answer to my prayers (and salvation of my checking account). So one day, in a sleep deprived haze, I stopped on my way to trial and bought this beauty. The thirty minutes spent in the coffee aisle trying to decipher what kind of coffee to get was comical. I can only imagine the things I muttered aloud to myself...
Armed with the advice of Amy (thanks again Amy!) I set off to brew a beautiful pot of coffee. I even set the timer so I/we could wake to the smell of fresh brewed coffee (and dog urine - oh the joys of puppies and potty training) like in the Folgers commercials. Enter the kitchen, elated to FINALLY have my prayers answered. Procure two mugs so we can each partake in this miracle, grab the carafe and exclaim - Where's all the freaking coffee?!?!
Apparently the "cup" water level size is not literal (2 cups does not make 2 cups of coffee), and there was half a mug (4 oz.) of the thickest coffee I'd ever seen. M opted out of destroying his kidneys at 6 am, but I guzzled it like a fine wine. And was WIRED for 12 hours. Note to self: the coffee equivalent of 2 cups of coffee in 4 oz is lethal.
To save you from embarrassment if you are the other person in all 'Merica that can't brew coffee, these articles - here, here, here are for you.
And, because you asked (pretend like you did), unless it involves french fries or ice cream, my personal favorites (thus far). In order of preference.
 |
| Tanzania Coffee - AMAZING |
Beans:
Add - ins:
Cocoa Via + Sugar in the Raw + Vanilla Soy Milk
Cocoa Via + Sugar in the Raw
Sugar in the Raw
Vanilla Coconut Milk
Coconut Water, here
I finally joined the living world and got a cool tumbler. I've already started making ice cubes for iced coffee, and I can't wait to try cold brewing.
I'd also LOVE to do a coffee crawl - anyone know of any in the STL area?
Morale of the story - I LOVES my coffee and my coffee LOVES me...
What do you put in YOUR coffee? I'm still getting the hang of it all, but trying out new combinations has been fun!
Ever been on a coffee crawl? I totally missed the one in STL by a month. Sad day.
Ever cold brew coffee?
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