Even though Mom drank it by the gallon, Papi introduced me to “dirty bean water”. I felt more like a 10 year old scientist than a barista though, considering the Cafe con Leche recipe was:
1) Microwave milk
2) Test temperature by dipping finger into milk
3) Lick finger
4) Eyeball the instant coffee (too much and it will taste bad)
5) Sugar + sugar + sugar to the point you have a small ant hill floating on top of the milk
6) Stir, drink, run out the door
Talk about a gateway drug. But it was the start of a long and romantic lifetime of drinking Sweet Brown. My parents got me a mini espresso machine for my dorm – shot glasses double as espresso cups. I loved making coffee for friends, coffee dates, the steam floating above the mug on a cold morning. It’s soothing as it is smooth.
Then I moved to Peru – coffee became a haven. Baristas doubled as Spanish teachers with interesting stories, cafes as an office space. Now, Argentinean cafe’s are an escape from the office and a place for contemplation: more of a temple.
Since that first mess of a microwave experiment to the cup I have right now, every sip produces a new version of me. There is a marginal change, growth or otherwise, that I can’t feel. But when I look back, the cumulative change is irrefutable.
So, I want to record it. I have been, but this will be more deliberate. But I know myself too well; to do something every day, I have to be responsible to someone else. That’s where you come in. These are my thoughts and genuine ideas. They will change over time, as I have. But the coffee will be there, each day. A new Sip will be as well.
Thank you for reading and welcome to this project. My only hope is that you, specifically you, get something positive from this.