Once a friend said to me, “I love coffee but I can’t drink it. It plays hell with my stomach.”
I thought, “Snowflake.”
Coffee, of course, is WHY we exist. I know it. You know it. Even people who haven’t tried it suspect. Even those who dispute this fact have thought about it. I have a friend who doesn’t drink it, and sometimes I think she’s apologizing for the cold, Stevia driven, caffeinated beverage in her hand in the morning. She KNOWS.
In her soul she senses the existence of a vast network of morning-happy people whose hearts beat a little faster (literally, figuratively) after the first two sips of coffee. “I’m missing out.” She feels this on an instinctual level, “But I can’t stand the taste! Surely this aversion is temporary. I’ll grow up and WANT coffee, I know it will happen, but WHEN.” Her longing is like that of a 12 year old girl yearning for a bra, excluded from the mysterious world of mammary glands to which her friends belong.
As Dusty and I finish up our morning coffee, I have a little story to share. For years I’ve had to deal with excruciating gut pain. I’ll leave it at that. But truly, years. After visiting my cola drinking friend and her husband, who was raving and ranting about a coffee brand he’d found that DIDN’T upset his stomach, and dealing, once more, with wrenching gut pain, I thought, “Hmmmm,” and I got some low acid coffee.
I brew my coffee in a Moka Express, a stove-top espresso “machine” like most people I know in Italy use. I drink the equivalent of six tiny espresso cups every morning but in one big cup with cream. That’s it for the day, but it’s intense.
The grind isn’t right for my Bialetti (too coarse) so the brew was on the weak side, but you don’t grind beans twice. The roast was tasty. Dusty liked it and I had no wrenching gut pain.
I guess I’m a snowflake…