Post by alfredo on Apr 23, 2009 10:51:11 GMT -5
"I must know how to make the very best coffee", she breathed.
Actually it turned out to be anything that might further her café business. She stood with hands in apron pockets as we talked. However, once I mentioned I knew where the coffee was really good, she became a little impatient.
"Will you show me? We should go together".
After that we met daily. I would call around 7-15am to set the tables and chairs and put out the sugar and so on. By this time she’d have the coffee on the table. I find in the early morning, especially after a light rain, everything tastes and smells so much more intense don't you? So it was with White Petal and her coffee.
Acquiring a taste for good coffee or for that matter wine, arises out of comparison. That is, a comparison between ones recollection of the last good cup of coffee and the one about to slip past your lips and around your tongue. I’m digressing.
One particular day she complained of tummy pain. Well to be honest she has mentioned it from time to time. Like all men when given a problem by their lover, I simply have to find the solution.
"Make sure you have breakfast" I urged.
Her hand moved to her neck. She agreed but breakfast had never been an important part of her day. The sun was falling quickly and with it the shadows. The coolness was sudden. I was no longer comfortable.
A week or two later she gave me the result from visiting her Asian doctor. Arms folded one slim leg swinging over the other she let me have the news.
"It’s the coffee" her doctor had diagnosed. “I will have to give it up”.
As you can imagine I took this rather seriously. Just as winter sends its signal for the tree to withdraw from the leaf so my feelings floated down from White Petal’s tree. We were in the autumn of our relationship. I knew it and may be she did too.
We met at the Rose garden one more time and sat on a park beach just as the rain was starting to clear. It was quite uplifting; the cool rain though uncomfortable had cleaned the air and swept the walkways. After rain everything looks sharper, cleaner and you can take in the various scents. Do you know what I mean?
She delivered her special look the one where she drags her head down towards the left shoulder and half turns away while keeping her eyes and her smile on me, meantime her hair falls slowly over her face. I used to find this irresistible. Today it appeared affected and girlish. A rain spot ran along her hair and slipped, like my love, off the end.
I started to explain how I felt about her and coffee. She turned away her almond eyes rolling and rather throatily, “no more”! Then, after a long jaw dropping yawn she stood, swung her hand bag over her shoulder and walked toward a wet tree. I didn’t move.
The truth is our relationship ended right there. Funny how things change, remember when you would wait for just the right amount of time before you pushed down the plunger. Can you recall reversing your spoon to pour the cream over the coffee? Life goes on. I have not seen her for more than a year now. Though she was and is wonderful, coffee is habit I just can't break. Anyway she just didn't have the stomach for it.
It was Mario who said” never let an obsession get in the way of a good coffee”. By the way I saw Mario the other day. He has a new Chinese waiter who calls the coffee “Essprazzo”. Not bad Eh?
Am I fickle? Certainly not! I am as passionate about coffee today as I was then!
Actually it turned out to be anything that might further her café business. She stood with hands in apron pockets as we talked. However, once I mentioned I knew where the coffee was really good, she became a little impatient.
"Will you show me? We should go together".
After that we met daily. I would call around 7-15am to set the tables and chairs and put out the sugar and so on. By this time she’d have the coffee on the table. I find in the early morning, especially after a light rain, everything tastes and smells so much more intense don't you? So it was with White Petal and her coffee.
Acquiring a taste for good coffee or for that matter wine, arises out of comparison. That is, a comparison between ones recollection of the last good cup of coffee and the one about to slip past your lips and around your tongue. I’m digressing.
One particular day she complained of tummy pain. Well to be honest she has mentioned it from time to time. Like all men when given a problem by their lover, I simply have to find the solution.
"Make sure you have breakfast" I urged.
Her hand moved to her neck. She agreed but breakfast had never been an important part of her day. The sun was falling quickly and with it the shadows. The coolness was sudden. I was no longer comfortable.
A week or two later she gave me the result from visiting her Asian doctor. Arms folded one slim leg swinging over the other she let me have the news.
"It’s the coffee" her doctor had diagnosed. “I will have to give it up”.
As you can imagine I took this rather seriously. Just as winter sends its signal for the tree to withdraw from the leaf so my feelings floated down from White Petal’s tree. We were in the autumn of our relationship. I knew it and may be she did too.
We met at the Rose garden one more time and sat on a park beach just as the rain was starting to clear. It was quite uplifting; the cool rain though uncomfortable had cleaned the air and swept the walkways. After rain everything looks sharper, cleaner and you can take in the various scents. Do you know what I mean?
She delivered her special look the one where she drags her head down towards the left shoulder and half turns away while keeping her eyes and her smile on me, meantime her hair falls slowly over her face. I used to find this irresistible. Today it appeared affected and girlish. A rain spot ran along her hair and slipped, like my love, off the end.
I started to explain how I felt about her and coffee. She turned away her almond eyes rolling and rather throatily, “no more”! Then, after a long jaw dropping yawn she stood, swung her hand bag over her shoulder and walked toward a wet tree. I didn’t move.
The truth is our relationship ended right there. Funny how things change, remember when you would wait for just the right amount of time before you pushed down the plunger. Can you recall reversing your spoon to pour the cream over the coffee? Life goes on. I have not seen her for more than a year now. Though she was and is wonderful, coffee is habit I just can't break. Anyway she just didn't have the stomach for it.
It was Mario who said” never let an obsession get in the way of a good coffee”. By the way I saw Mario the other day. He has a new Chinese waiter who calls the coffee “Essprazzo”. Not bad Eh?
Am I fickle? Certainly not! I am as passionate about coffee today as I was then!
