the subject was coffee

this post began as a comment to another post by the charming and talented cassoulet cafe. the post, which you are welcomed to read, is a journey of discovery, of trial and tribulation, of failure, and ultimately, of success, in finding that rare bird; the perfect cup of coffee. if you find yourself asking whether or not a perfect cup of coffee is worth the time and energy, not to mention hard drive space, of a blog posting, then you have never enjoyed this mythical beast, and i caution you; this rest of this posting may leave you bored and confused, but not necessarily in that order.

my love affair with this dark elixir began at a very early age. my mother, who thinks nothing of adding sugar AND flavored non-dairy creamer to her coffee, would leave half-consumed cups of these caffeinated fructose bombs around the house for me to find, and consume with all the fervor of a detoxing addict. it is no small wonder, then, my parents thought for some time, because of my anxiousness and "nervous stomach", i might be suffering from an ulcer at the ripe old age of 8. and it is these high-octane milkshakes that most likely contributes to my ability to eat anything, with little fear of repercussion.

in my young adult years, i prepared my coffee much in the way i was accustomed; lots of sugar and cream (not to be confused with milk, or worse yet, non-fat...!). once, my elder brother [the land baron] tried to convince me that because of the cream and sugar, the chemical compound had been changed, and i could no longer refer to my beverage, in good conscience, as "coffee". as much as i didn't care about the ridicule i received from my brother and father regarding my less-than-manly coffee preference, i cared even less when i discovered brown sugar as a viable substitute for the bleached granulated sugar. i have since omitted the sugar as a matter of convenience, if nothing else; the small packets proved to be more annoying than they were worth. and within the past few years, i've even done away with the cream.

but it was in these young adult years that i unknowingly made a decision that would prove to be one of the most influential of my life; to visit the fabled "land over the rainbow"- europe. my experience "on the continent" began in italy. the coffee, as heavenly as it is, can be fatal in the cup of an uncultured bumpkin. in order to keep me awake, my companion ordered me a "cafe doppio" at the cafe by our hotel. ill-prepared for the unbridled jolt of a double italian espresso, it nearly floored me. it was more powerful than most liquors i've had before or since.

in subsequent trips to europe, i've made it a tradition to always have a cappuccino in the cafe at the milan train station. the station, to be sure, is only slightly better than a bus terminal; filled with wayward travelers, street charlatans looking to take advantage of your good nature, and the ubiquitous souvenir salesperson. but the delights of the cup never fail to warm my soul. which brings me to point of this blog; the perfect cup.

i honestly couldn't say if this was "the perfect cup", but it is certainly one of the most memorable. my parents decided they wanted to visit the eternal city, rome. having been there previously, they decided to invite me along, figuring i would know my way around. while i knew this to be a faulty premise, i kept my mouth shut, and went along anyway. i began my trip a few days earlier in order to visit vienna, austria, and then took a night train to rome. arriving in roma termini at around 8 in the morning, i decided to stop in at the train station cafe to have a quick cup and to gather my thoughts, my bearings, and my wits after a night on a train rumbling through the countryside of two countries. i ordered my coffee, an "americano", and grabbed a seat outside to watch all the italians in their morning rush and to take in the feel of an international city. one sip of the delightful beverage was amazing enough to draw my gaze from roma termini in all its splendor, to the inside of my cup. bear in mind, these were still the days in which i adulterated my coffee with additives, but this cup was perfect just how it was. perhaps it had to do with the less-than satisfying "train breakfast" provided by the train steward, or perhaps it had to do with being in one of the most beautiful cities in the world.

in my trips abroad, i usually try to go outof my way not to look conspicous; to look as though i were a local, too. these efforts have been as involved as going several blocks out of my way in order to consult my map without looking like i needed to consult my map. but that day in roma termini, i tossed aside my desire to blend in, and i did something completely out of the ordinary for a local; i went back for a second cup.