I Got Started Pretty Early
My earliest memories of coffee are in my grandmother’s kitchen, watching the bubbles in the glass top of the percolator on her stove as she made coffee for my grandfather.
I must have been 3 or 4. I remember enjoying my own cup with lots of milk and what I assume was a saccharine tablet for sweetness (although I am old enough that it might have been cyclamates!).
I remember feeling so grown up.
Fast forward to my junior year of high school where the occasional late-night essay required “a little boost.” By my senior year, I would occasionally sneak into the teacher’s lounge – coffee was not available anywhere for students, presumably because it would stunt our growth – for a pre-lunch “pick me up” so I could be fully attentive in Mr. Macnamara’s AP European History class. He may or may not have felt that that particular act was appropriate.
In college, I had a morning radio show (let’s hear it for the Woo Crew) and we would go through at least three pots of coffee before we were through. If I decided to skip French class (who knew I would need to speak French?) I would have another couple of cups at breakfast, followed by a couple after lunch and dinner, as well. I may have had a small caffeine problem at this time.
My work life always entailed multiple trips to the office coffee maker, regardless of the quality of the brew, but then I bought a Kona coffee farm on the Big Island of Hawaii back in 2008. That is a story for another time. After ten years of beating back the jungle, I am now living in Europe and am very much looking forward to connecting with a nice group of coffee lovers.