Coffee is a mystery to me. How do you get so many different tastes from the same regular pound can… oops I mean 13 ounce can? Different days mean different tastes. You have the Monday – Friday early morning wake up coffee. It is the kick you need to get you moving, without it you are dragging and just cannot seem to get started. I often wake up to the coffee pot gurgle telling me the coffee is ready before the alarm goes off. There have been times I sleep through the alarm but never the coffee ding even though the pot is down stairs.
Fred lovingly sets up our pot the night before to go off at 5:30 am. Of course there are times, I come down stairs and find he forgot to put water in or push setting button. But all is forgiven after first taste because he makes a great cup.
Saturday coffee is the worst. I come down stairs some time a little later, so it has that post lunch restaurant taste. You know the kind that sits on the burner too long. If I get coffee in a restaurant any time after a lunch I wait for a new pot to be brewed. When I do get down stairs early enough for a fresh cup, I get side tracked with chores and it quickly becomes lukewarm. Saturday coffee always tastes lukewarm or the flip side, scalding. I just cannot find the happy reheat on our microwave. It is the coffee I lose in linen closets, refrigerators, top of file boxes and pantry shelves. Eventually when I find it a few days later, I say to myself… “That is where that cup went”.
Sunday, ahh… Sunday coffee is the perfect cup and taste. I think it has something to do with the fact we have a bigger breakfast with the sweet taste of a croissant, donut, pancake or whatever lingering in our mouth so when we take a sip it is like a happy marriage. The real reason Sunday coffee is probably the best is the leisure and luxury of watching the weekend news, or reading a paper or surfing on the computer with the person you love across from the table.
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