There’s something to be said about a delicious cup of coffee. I’m very much a coffee lover. I’m by no means a connoisseur, but coffee holds a special place in my heart.
I do, after all, work at Starbucks. But that’s not all.
One of my greatest childhood memories is tied to coffee. Growing up, my mother started her day with a fresh, hot cup. I’d hear her tinkering in the kitchen, getting things together. Soon there was a slight, metallic rumble on the stove: the percolator doing its magic. Then I’d hear the familiar clanking of my mother’s spoon stirring the cream and sugar into her cup.
This was my cue to wake up for school. So maybe it’s a bittersweet memory, but a lovely memory nonetheless.
Perhaps this is how my fascination with coffee started, growing up witnessing my mother’s morning coffee ritual – though it didn’t seem like that at the time. I remember once, on a hot day, my mother brewing a pot mid afternoon.
“Mom, how can you drink coffee on a hot day?!” I chided in disbelief, curling my lip at the idea of a hot drink on a hot day.
She eyed me knowingly. “You’ll understand when you’re an adult.”
I vowed then and there that I would not, in fact, understand. Ever.
But here I am, 35 years later, enjoying a velvety, frothy latte drizzled with a glimmering string of sweet hazelnut sauce. It’s magical. Warm, sweet, and gorgeous.
Here’s to childhood memories. Cheers!