A love letter to coffee

A brief exercise in writing using my senses.

When you open a bag of good quality coffee, the aroma reaches up to you, seduces you, encourages – no, requires – you to make a cup, to make the promise of the smell real. The brewing process continues the seduction, the crescendo of scent evoking memories of sun-warmed Italian piazzas, of fresh croissants in French cafes, of standing in a Spanish bar surrounded by the ticker tape of discarded napkins.

Once the dark confection is ready, and the milk warmed, the two are mixed together and the anticipation mounts. Even the colour is inviting, calling to mind the sand on the beaches of childhood holidays, labrador puppies, sheepskin. This heady mix of evocative aroma and comforting appearance is lifted to the lips and supped. And…


However good it tastes, it is never quite as promised. Even when tasty, it is somehow different and the first sensation is usually disorientation, dissonance. Once the brain unscrambles the contradictory signals, the appreciation of the drink can continue. The bitter element on the roof of the mouth, the fruity elements on the tongue, all hanging together with the silky milk. There is a simultaneous effect of creating and quenching thirst. the taste is round, soft, no jagged edges, no straight lines. A good cup of coffee coats the inside of the mouth, and persists, resisting attempts by other tastes to dislodge it. A good cup of coffee starts a day well and provides a reminder throughout the day that there are good things in life.

Published by Antonia

I'm a British citizen and European Union official, who lives in Brussels again after 6 years in London and 8 in Melbourne. My blog(s) reflect my interests in the EU, yarncrafts, organisations and dog ownership.

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