For the record: I’m no coffee connoisseur. I drink lattes because they satisfy my two chief criteria for coffee – lots of milk and lots of room for sugar. But recently, I met the barista of my dreams. Now I’m caffeinated and infatuated.
The day I met my new love, I was in that early morning pre-coffee kind of stupor. Slow moving and slow thinking, I practically bumped into this stunning, towering cool creator of caffeine and other bubbling hot delights. I was instantly overwhelmed.
Who would have thought that my happily married middle-aged heart could be taken by surprise? I thought my days of instant infatuation were long gone. Yet, there I was, staring and flummoxed. Right from the start, I know our “relationship” would present choices wilder than any of my previous coffee-ordering imaginings.
“Coffee drinks? Hot beverages? Gourmet?” my tall barista queried.
I pondered the subtle differences behind the three choices. I felt uncertain but wanted to appear sophisticated and confident. So, I gambled that my tried-and-true latte choice fell into the category of “gourmet” rather than just coffee or hot beverages. Thankfully, I guessed correctly!
A LITTLE S & M ON THE SIDE?
But my barista wasn’t satisfied and persisted with more questions, straying – in fact – into a little S and M territory! Did I want to “whip the coffee? Did I want it mild, regular or strong?” I wondered what if my “regular” was “strong,” but felt that was heavy philosophical and personal information to cover early in the morning – on a first encounter to boot!
Then my barista asked about my cup size. “Huh?” Again, with the personal questions! Red-faced, I realized, the question pertained to my drinking-cup size!
I confirmed the details of my order – strong, cup size, and so on – and thought I was good to go. But no, my barista demanded more. Getting down to the nitty-gritty, my barista queried “Peet’s Major Dickason, Decaf House, Espresso Forte or Default.” Still wanting to make a good impression, but also wanting to finalize this emotionally exhausting coffee-selection process, I opted for “Major.” It seemed a solid choice.
CAFFEINATED AND INFATUATED
That was it. This barista and I had hit all the right buttons – literally, for my barista was a 44″ x 19″ x 28″ Cafection Innovation Series Total One coffee machine. It was the most elaborate office coffee maker I have ever seen! And, let me just say, Total One is the total package, making one tasty cup of java. What am I talking about? Makes one tasty cup? This baby makes about hundreds and hundreds of cups!
So, now I want one. In fact, I’m lusting for a Total One. But it’s way too big for my home.
My niece, a doctor, has a Breville Dual Boiler Espresso Maker. It does all the fancy stuff that the Cafection Total One does, but you need a Ph.D. – or a medical degree – to understand how to use it. The last time I stayed at my niece’s house, she kindly recorded a three-part how-to video. I never told her, but I still couldn’t master that beastly Breville! Instead, I went to Starbucks after I walked her son/my great-nephew to the school bus each morning.
MY MOTHER’S “BARISTA” OF CHOICE
When I was little, my father, an early riser, had two main domestic duties: taking out the trash and making coffee so my mother – a morning zombie – could instantly down caffeine and become a human being!
As they aged and their health declined, in a moment of gallows humor, my mother said she would definitely have to die first, since she couldn’t live without that morning coffee my father made. Time passed. Technology advanced, and my father averted my mother’s caffeinated equivalent of a Zombie Apocalypse by buying a “fancy” new coffee pot with the latest innovation – a timer!
BACK TO THE NOW
This morning I got up, longing for a meet-up with my Cafection Total One, but I’ve got no more appointments scheduled in the building where I first encountered that hot and steamy coffee-making machine. Like all caffeine highs – and infatuations, this one is over. But the memory … and the middle-aged heartburn … linger!