I’ve just moved house and I’ve been drinking a lot of coffee lately. I’ve not cared much about how it tasted. Just that it’s hot and wet. The kind that’s endlessly offered as a cheap and routine stimulant. It has kept me going through the day’s shifting, packing, sorting, distributing of household assortments and detritus office paper work. It also seems to pass through me at a rate of knots and has made me an all too frequent traveller to the loo.
Sadly, this dismissive and disinterested attitude of mine is possibly fairly common amongst us Brits.
“With or without?” is all I’m expected to be asked. I don’t really mind how it comes.
“With milk, no sugar, please…” and “… as long as it’s hot and wet.”
“Real or instant?”
“Oh instant’s fine, I don’t want to be any trouble…”
Although, that answer isn’t strictly true.
For, from now on, I actually want high maintenance coffee. The type that seems to take ages to extract a deep, dark trickle of black coffee into tiny demitasse cups. Where the aroma of rich nutty flavours envelop my senses and is accompanied by the aggressive sound of steaming milk and metal jugs clunked on hard surfaces. Don’t give me any of that over frothy, milky stuff which is too hot to drink right away. I want a highly skilled barista to extrude handfuls of gorgeous ground Origin coffee at my bidding and to serve me a bitter-sweet shiny latte with a Rodda’s rich, creamy-sweet, milky top. Continue reading