I love coffee. I know I probably drink too much. But it soothes me, calms me, guides me, restores me in so many ways that I’m not sure I could do without it.
I love making coffee. It’s a ritual full of the senses, that I enjoy. There is the rich smell of the coffee, that wafts and washes away all concerns, that smells like mud and earth and petrichor and the forest all mixed in one. That scent invigorates me, enthralls me, and fills me with joy. Then there is the squelch of the spoon, as I scoop up grounds like a digger unearthing mud. There is the trickle as the grounds fall into the caffetierre. The song of the kettle, as it whirs and hisses. The swoosh, as the coffee rises, the wheeze as cold grounds meet hot water, and the ripple of bubbles on the surface. The pop and gulp, as spoons stirs the coffee thick as a bog, as if searching for treasure, barely skimming the bottom. Then the soft milk, poured in, rippling out from the centre. And then there is the taste, sweet but bitter, that dances on my tongue, that must be savoured.
Its become part of my meditation practice, to have a cup of coffee in a still moment. I often grab a cup of coffee before, find a quiet spot either at home or out and about, and its feel and taste and smell really enhances the experience, makes it deeper.
There’s always new types to try and new flavours to discover. My sister bought me these coffee syrups for Christmas, caramel and honeycomb and hazelnut, and they taste divine. I also found an online store that does flavoured coffee grounds; tiramisu, cappuccino, caramel, chocolate orange, Irish cream, you name it. And I love discovering the new flavours, trying new things, and its built my confidence.
There are a thousand reasons why I love coffee. It grounds me, in meditation. It is an anchor in busy places, its scent wafting through stations and cities, a map that needs no sight to be found. It makes me smile, delighting the senses. It recharges my energy when I’m flagging. It wakes me up, releases insomnia’s hold. It is something to look forward to, a reward for braving Moorfields and dentists, or for taking on difficult clarinet pieces. With a coffee, I can do anything.
I don’t like instant coffee as much, its strength too strong. Its only a last resort, when I feel dead, when I’ve had a bad night. I drank one before a concert at the tour last year, and was full of so much energy I buzzed and flew through the Holst, an extremely difficult piece.
Because it opens my mind, unlocks a door, and with it I can do anything. Last week I accidently drank black coffee on a jazz course, and touched the stars, improvising like never before, as if I was made of music.
Coffee helps me in so many ways. So I will keep drinking it, fuel my soul and mind with these delicious grounds, and savour each cup.
