needing a fix

coffee is good.

i started young. . . fond memories of my grandmother mixing up taster's choice instant coffee, stirring in heaping portions of creamer and sugar, and pouring it into a tall heavy glass. my brother and i each got our own glasses. rich and sweet- my grandmother's coffee was dessert like and i was hooked.

in high school, my parents would buy big tins of foldgers or maxwells from costco. then i met yoswa who introduced me to my first cappuchino at a local italian restaurant- this was during a time before starbucks had infilatrated all the suburbs. in college, i went through a flavored coffee phase- vanilla, cinnamon, hazelnut, you name it, i loved it. with splenda and creamer. several mugs of coffee a day kept me going on 4 hours of sleep and maintaining a frantic schedule of extracurricular activities, social outings with friends, and heavy school loads.

trips to italy and france refined my tastebuds and i learned to appreciate a well made espresso or a simple cafe creme. a nice weekend morning involved breaking fast and sharing pressed coffee. when i moved to new york, i switched from a drip coffee maker to a stove top bialetti which makes a fine cup of coffee with a bit of crema.

over the years, i've cut my intake dramatically (not counting a surge during grad school) and have a couple cups in the morning. my morning coffee is one of the things i look forward to in the mornings. there's nothing like the feeling of slowing become more alert, more me, as the caffeine starts to work it's magic.

this morning, i arose well rested a little before 7AM. i shuffled over to my little cuisinart coffee maker and began to prepare my coffee. there was about a scoop and a half of coffee grains left in the bag. i mentally praised myself for thinking to buy a new bag of french roast coffee last weekend. i pull out the second bag and open it up to find. unground grains. and no coffee grinder. damn.