My mom started giving me coffee when I was a small child. This is not unusual in Germany, but apparently it is in the USA. The coffee kids usually get is made for kids, and is made from wheat. It really is a coffee substitute, not the true drink. Still, I only knew that coffee was usually one of the normal drink choices around the house growing up. This normally did not cause a problem, but once in a while I got funny looks and comments from kids in school when I poured coffee out of my thermos at lunch. Some teachers raised an eyebrow as well. But they were mostly distracted by the manly sized sandwiches I would normally bring. Looking back as a teacher, I can appreciate the humor of it. Other kids are eating bologna on white bread, or braving the school offerings, and I sit with the deli special and cup of coffee. I suppose they were waiting for the smoking break next. Mom sure did make great lunches. That really was a great part of the day.
Coffee shifted at some point from wheat substitute over to the real bean. Even then my parents made it with milk and sugar. I still prefer it that way. I don't know if there ever was much thought or conversation given to the coffee situation; it was just normal for me. I'm glad it was. For now, it is a pleasurable part of life's routine. It is a habit like reading the newspaper, but not like habits of addiction. I will run out of coffee and then not have any for many days until I remember to buy more. No worries. I like coffee, and I choose to have it, but life goes on without it. I'm just a bit less satisfied with the world.
On one trip I took with my mom to Germany, we took a side trip to Poland. We actually went back to her hometown which she had not seen for over forty years. The town was part of Germany-- OK, Prussia-- at the time of her early childhood, but WWII politics shifted the borders around. While we were in Poland we were staying with people in their homes. These were people who either didn't know us at all personally, or who had not seen my mother in over forty years. What great people. All they needed to know was that my mother was friends with Mrs. J---, someone everyone knew. They did not have much, but we were invited to have some of what was being offered. At one point one of the women asked me what I would like. I said a coffee would be great. They were speaking German to me, incidentally, which was fine, because I was not prepared with much knowledge of Polish. It is a very cool language, I think. I understood many things before we were done that week.
The coffee that was brought to me was an unexpected and lovely experience. They had made the coffee in a style common in the east of Europe as well as the Middle East and North Africa. With Turkish Coffee, as it is known, the fine coffee grounds are boiled with the water and poured together into the cup. The dregs settle to the bottom. It was served to me in the Russian style tall tea or coffee cup. This is a glass that is held by a metal decorative holder. In the glass I could see all of the dregs that made up about two inches of the five inch vessel. My only thought of hesitation, having never had this style of coffee before, was the question of the grounds. Do you drink it down, or leave it? I was told later that some of the old men would drink the lees, but it was normal to leave them. That was the only coffee I had while we were in Poland, but it was fantastic. I enjoyed it very much because it was a dear commodity given joyfully to me by distant kin who had never met me before. Such a flavor is rare, indeed.
I started to really ponder on that trip what coffee might taste like around the world. Since before the journey in Poland I have tried to experience whatever I can of cultural food expressions. What a beautiful introduction into someone's world.
Back on my dad's side of the family there are the culinary offerings of South Central Kentucky. I actually never recognized that kind of food as anything other than normal. My grandma was an excellent cook, and I ate anything she made happily. But since this is about coffee, I have to share the one coffee trivia fact I know that connects coffee to the town of Burkesville, Kentucky. Joel Cheek of Burkesville was a traveling dry goods salesman in the late 1800's. He started blending different coffee varieties that he sold to customers after he realized that the most expensive varitey he carried was not actually the best in taste. He experimented with the blends until he arrived at the best tasting product. His customers agreed. Mr. Cheek then struck a deal with the kitchen manager of a Nashville hotel to buy his blend and serve it in the hotel dining room. When Cheek's blend ran out, the kitchen served their old coffee, but the customers complained. When Mr. Cheek returned, the deal was given a new life. He would continue to bring the coffee to the hotel, but in order to sell it abroad, he also agreed to give it the name of the hotel, the Maxwell House. (The only other culinary claim to fame for Burkesville is a burger joint called Dovey's. That is definitely a different story.)
My parents have never developed a liking for coffee that is much stronger than the kiddie coffee they used to give me. They get very dramatic over the coffee I drink now. How can I drink that stuff, they wonder. It's about enjoying experiences in life. Coffee can have a great range of flavors in much the same way as wine, beer, or chocolate. I savor the flavors of well-brewed coffee. It brings me a sensory experience that does not come with just any beverage. Tea can provide a similar experience, but proper brewing is important. That's another blog, I think.
No one has yet convinced me that coffee is bad for you. It's been said, for sure, but always on shaky evidence, or laced with propaganda. I'll go on brewing, drinking, and thoroughly enjoying the coffee I make at home. I will aslo gladly partake in coffees made for me by generous family members, friends, or the occasional barrista. And my children, too, will enjoy coffee if that is their choice.
Live well.
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