coffee

I used to be into the ritual of fresh beans and a French press. I found a nice roaster up in the hills here when I first came to Phoenix. Nothing world fancy. Your typical Columbian, Nicaraguan, Mexican, but fresh harvested and most beautifully roasted. Sometimes I would spring for some Kenyan, Jamaican, or other speciality bean from the internet. I had special sealing bean storage cannisters and a quality grinder.Timing was everything. I knew the measure of beans to water depending on the roast of the bean, and the chemistry with each. When the water pot started to whistle, I would turn the stove off, grind the beans, place them in the carafe of the French press, move the water off the hot burner it had been simmering on to a cold one and then stop.The ground beans are out gassing some bitter volatiles while the water is coming off its thermal high. One minute usually. Then pour the now 92-93°C water into the carafe and shock the oils, aromatics and volatiles left in the beans into a delectable potion with many layers for the tongue and nose to take in. Four minutes to steep and press the plunger. Enjoy as the magic elixir takes on new tones as it slowly cools with each sip.But I am old old old now and can’t be bothered with the hassle. Sometimes I miss that sensory delight but I’ve become too simple to care for long. So now it’s Taster’s Choice instant mixed in my cup with water boiled in a Pyrex measuring cup in the microwave.