My perfect morning:
Jamaica Blue Mountain beans are being crushed in my grinder. The grounds go into my French press coffee maker. Water heated to 180F is poured in. After two minutes, the plunger goes down. The color is darkest red-brown, and the aroma is soft, strong, and almost syrupy. Light cream, warmed in the microwave, goes into the heated cup with the coffee. One teaspoon of sugar gets stirred in. For the next few minutes, nothing matters except the velvety hot wonder of some of the best coffee anywhere.
One should note that this scenario contrasts starkly with my everyday reality. While I am certainly a coffee addict and a bit of a coffee snob, I usually wind up with whatever brown ground stuff is on sale. I do draw the line at instant.
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Cato
-Ignorantia delenda est.