As I write in the early evening of this burgeoning spring day I do so with a mug of steaming coffee close at hand. The slim ring of bubbles circumnavigating the rim reflects the unforgiving light cast by the small desk lamp. Wisps of steam begin to fade as the coffee cools to meet the cool, nearly uncomfortable temperature of this older home in Southeast Portland. The brown of the desk nearly matches the hue of the coffee I now drink – the blackness of the coffee diluted with a hint of cream. It’s lovely, this cup of coffee that sits beside me, a constant companion, filling my senses with chocolate, citrus and sweetness of plum.
I blame my friend Jon. One harmless afternoon, a year and a half ago, we began talking about coffee, and I just haven’t been the same since. Thank goodness. It’s that conversation about coffee that began my own education – a journey he’s been on for some time now…. Read more…