Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

 


I like my morning coffee. I can't start the day without it - and I'm not just talking about the caffeine jolt (as important as that is). I'm a man of rituals, and preparing that first cup of Life has become a devotional act supplicating Nature to bestow favorable winds for the day. And like Holy Communion, the sacramental beans aren't handed out like Halloween treats - there's a solemn ceremony that must precede consumption, incantations to be spoken, a sacred text to be followed, before Redemption can be had.

Accordingly, the coffeemaker must first be filled properly according to Holy Writ, a task usually performed the night before, since my brain is rarely capable of such a delicate operation until it has quaffed its results. The liturgy is very specific as to how this is to be done: 5 flat scoops of ground coffee beans - fully caffeinated, Decaf is fit only for the iniquitous - then slightly more than 5-2/3 cups of water in the reservoir, as measured by the calibration marks on the side of the carafe. It might take several tries to get the water level just right, but it must be so. Patience is a virtue I need to cultivate more. Accusations of anal-retentiveness are merely the calumnious whispers of unwashed simpletons.

The coffeemaker itself is an unpretentious low-tech device, befitting a simple man reciting simple prayers. Bottom of the line, $15-20 from WalMart. No programmability, no digital display, not so much as a clock - just an on/off switch, and a jewel light indicating which. It's about as much complexity as I choose to deal with before I've gotten both eyes open.

It starts when I've awakened enough to slip into a bathrobe and visit the sanitary facilities. From there I shuffle to the kitchen. Like lighting devotional candles before Mass, there are certain acts which must be performed: the drying rack must be emptied of last night's dishes, the tools for preparing breakfast (itself another sacred ritual) must be laid out, the morning news must be briefly reviewed. Teeth must be flossed and scrubbed. Only then can the gods of thermal energy be summoned, and the coffeemaker activated. Before long, the machine starts to snuffle, making sounds similar to those I do upon awakening. Soon the aroma of freshly-brewed Arabica permeates the chapel, like incense wafting from the cencer swung by the priest as he proceeds down the aisle with two standard-bearing altar boys in tow.

At last, the coffeemaker falls silent, the hopper drains, the brew is ready and the congregation moreso. The plain brown mug purchased 25 years ago at the Brattleboro Dollar Store is filled with hot tap water, cleansing and preheating it, that it be worthy to receive the precious elixir. I wrap my hand around it to feel its warmth, then pour it off. The moment has arrived. I lift the carafe from the hotplate and fill the mug no more than halfway - coffee grown cold is an abomination not be abided. I sip. Hot, bitter, comforting and familiar. A moment of transcendental bliss. I sigh and sip again.

The day has begun.

an exquisitely described ritual
one than I too cherish and concur
is worthy of wonderful language
to share with fellow worshippers
I can't imagine anything less...thank you

you're most welcome, and thank YOU. This was a fun write - I love that thunderous, over-the-top Biblical language, so inappropriately bombastic for something as ordinary as making a cup of coffee. If you've never read Ian Frazier's "Lamentations of the Father", do so. (It isn't stealing if you at least admit "borrowing" from it. )

I usually don't need that breath of (caffeinated) wind in my sails until late morning or afternoon, if then. I generally prefer an "unwired" mind to ease into the day ... I'm definitely in the minority here. Well expressed, as usual.

my ritual starts three days earlier. that's when I begin with green beans in my roaster. changing the greeness into the rich royal fullness that is fresh coffee in it's finest form. the smell fills the neighborhood causing them to wonder what I'm brewing up. but Ive become a spoiled rotten caffeine snob. can't help it
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