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.
Just read all of these you’ve written so far–I love reading your thoughts!! Definitely won’t be able to keep you accountable every day, but will thoroughly enjoy them when I can. Much love my friend!
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