One of the classic lines in our family lore was uttered years ago by the three-year-old Madelyn Simone, in imitation of her father’s early morning plea: “I need my caw-fee.” The slogan is a few years old, but for millions of Americans like my son, “the best part of wakin’ up . . . is Folgers in your cup.”
As ever-present as coffee is in our everyday lives, we might expect that Adam and Eve shared a morning coffee or two; however, coffee wasn’t used as a beverage until the fifteenth century. Some called it the bitter invention of Satan, but Pope Clement VII taste-tested it and gave his stamp of approval.
My own history with coffee is less favorable than Clement’s. My dad and mom filled the percolator every morning with coffee they’d ground at the A&P or Loblaws, and its rich aroma filled our kitchen. A sample from my dad’s steaming mug left me swearing off java for life. The idea that coffee “tastes as good as it smells” did not fool my taste buds.
Yet since coffee is such a cultural icon, I decided to give it another shot when I was in grad school. Since I agreed with Jonathan Swift that “coffee makes us severe, and grave, and philosophical,” I thought a cup of coffee in my hands might improve my image. I could picture myself with mug of java, pausing to take a sip for inspiration at a crucial moment in a counseling session. I tried, I really did, but I just couldn’t learn to drink it, even with extra sugar or flavored creamers.
I still do not join the 64% of American adults who drink coffee every day, but I do know lots of people whose morning cry is “fill it to the rim with Brim,” or who put a warning sign on their office door: “Come back when I’m caffeinated.”
Coffee drinkers seem to fall into two camps. The first are those who aren’t too fussy about the coffee-drinking experience. Their hats proclaim: “But first, coffee.” If it’s hot and strong, they’re happy. David Lynch understands them: “Even bad coffee is better than no coffee at all.”
Then, there are the coffee lovers. They have the designated mugs, the French press, the selected beans promising a citrus blend with a wisp of pipe smoke. They can be seen sporting tee-shirts saying, “Better beans, better coffee.” These connoisseurs claim that given enough coffee, anything is possible – and I believe them.
Years ago, Chock Full o’ Nuts was touted as “that heavenly coffee,” but today’s coffee world has moved on to auto-drip and pour-over, freshly roasted beans, and products from around the world. Group B, coffee lovers with the requisite handful of veritable coffee snobs, are in their own kind of heaven these days, as Goldberry Roasting Company has opened its doors on Claremont Avenue in Ashland. My husband has been purchasing their coffee beans for years, and in the early days of business, owner and long-time Ashlander Doug Cooper would slide a bag of freshly roasted beans inside our side door on Walnut Street. Now, Doug’s long-held dream has a brick and mortar site, where coffee aficionados of all ages can talk shop, solve the world’s problems over a cup of coffee, and take home a bag or two of their favorite blend.
I’ve debated giving coffee one last try before I turn my back on it forever. After all, how can I walk into Goldberry Roasting Company and ask for hot chocolate? But on the other hand, if it hasn’t tasted good by now, why bother?
Rohan Marley, son of musician Bob Marley and co-founder of an organic coffee plantation in Jamaica, recognizes the value of coffee. “Coffee connects us in so many ways – to each other, to our senses, and to the earth that supports the coffee trees.” Seems like the local coffee shop has replaced the back fence and the front porch of yesterday, giving us a place to connect and come together, regardless of what is or isn’t in our cup. Coffee, anyone?
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