Lessons in a cuppa (1)

Maybe it’s the way which coffee and milk, black and white can complement each other so well. Intriguing, how they bring out the best in each other in optimal conditions. I could spend an hour sipping on flat white, getting lost in a daydream. Or finish a macchiato lungo in three sips, playfully tossing the mixture in my mouth in failed attempts to unfold the taste, of great levels of complexity. Cliche, but how could beans, so small, of just eighteen grand, contain so much? Despite it’s brittle exocarp having gone through the whole roasting process.
Sometimes I feel that Coffee has greater personality than I do, and is stronger than I am. Perhaps coffee could be my analogy – only that I am an over/under-extracted one. Sour, disastrous. Ha. As miraculous as a hot bath that calms one’s nerves, coffee untangles the knots I was at the brink of giving up on un-tangling. The first level of extraction clears my clouded mind. The second strikes as a wave of euphoria. The third draws me a little further for reality. Albeit momentarily, coffee serves as a great catalyst for an escape from reality and grants time to indulge in daydream. The fourth deeps deeper, to a level which no other thing can do to satisfy – introspection. Taste and aroma, they all parallel to traits and qualities I crave for. The aftertaste, you might have guessed, concludes the sorting out of thoughts. If something’s gotta be broken down, this is it – not the microfoam.

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