My wife has me labeled as a somewhat lazy and lethargic person; she’s probably right to some extent. Nevertheless, I’ve achieved a reasonable degree of success in life, and I owe it all to coffee. That’s right; I’m talking about a cup of java, cup of joe, shot of caffeine, cup of brew, morning fix, or whatever you want to term it. Coffee is a big feature of my life; just one cup and I rise to meet any challenge.
Senior folks like myself started out on percolator coffee, pretty good stuff for the first 15 minutes after the repetitive brewing process ends. Beyond that point, the coffee quickly goes stale and develops a burnt flavor. At the office, a gigantic percolator pot brewing in the early a.m. was supposed to have serviced employees well beyond the noon hour. Diehard coffee addicts would even draw black battery acid from the pot late in the workday, oftentimes long after the grungy pot was unplugged.
I loved all the unique coffee mugs sitting around the office, although I hated the person carrying the mug with the word BOSS on it. On the other hand, my mean boss was somewhat supportive of us coffee drinkers. He often said that coffee-heads are more productive than other employees. Right your lordship, but aren’t you forgetting that we take frequent coffee breaks and we continually race to the bathroom to empty our bladders? Then there’s the inevitable coffee spill onto important documents: “Oops, did I do that?”
At any rate, thanks to inventor Vincent Marrotta, we graduated to the wonderful drip coffee maker, at home, in restaurants, and even in the office. Thus, the tedious chore of brewing coffee was suddenly transformed into an art; that is, selecting the gourmet blend, grinding it to proper coarseness and getting the water level just right. Like all other pleasures in life, prices quickly soared, so much so that people began giving coffee brewing equipment and roasted beans as luxury gifts. I saw the merit in that until my wife loudly expressed her disappointment in getting a drip machine as an anniversary present.
The next step in the evolution was the cartridge coffee maker. That’s the one where the coffee is perfectly ground, pre-measured, and then sealed in fancy cartridges. A computer chip inside the machine controls how much water flows through the cartridge, for how long, and at what temperature. In this case, it’s up to each individual to decide whether they’re enjoying an idiot-proof experience or savoring the outcome of a perfected process.
Next came the Italians who thrust cappuccino and espresso machines into our lives. Now clever baristas put their artistic designs on cappuccino foam, obviously a ritual for seducing naïve young ladies. The espresso coffee is just as fascinating; I like it because it gives me a stronger jolt than I’d get from sticking my tongue into a 110-volt electrical outlet. I get an even stronger jolt from espresso café corretto that’s laced with hard liquor — it’s said to be patent medicine for colds.
Then there’s instant coffee. Even though it’s fake brew, it’s tolerable in an emergency situation. In fact, my one pet peeve is staying in hotels that only provision my room with two instant coffee packets and then don’t resupply during the rest of my long stay. Perhaps William Shatner would be willing to forcibly “negotiate” with the miserly hotel czars so they’ll start supplying rooms with more coffee packets.
Obviously, Washington, Jefferson, and Lincoln are pretty important historical figures. But I revere people like Mrs. Olson who saved marriages in her mountain-grown coffee commercials, Joe Di Maggio who sold us the Mr. Coffee machines, and Howard Schultz who built the Starbucks Empire. Those are the faces that really belong on Mount Rushmore and on American currency. Likewise, we ought to allow that humble Colombian Juan Valdez and his coffee-laden donkey to legally immigrate here.
Medical researchers have begun exploring the potential health benefits of coffee. During their quest, they’ll eventually face one perplexing question: does coffee make people live a longer life or do people live longer just so they can enjoy more coffee? Well, I’m not leaving anything to chance; I just had a living will drawn up that preauthorizes hospital doctors to administer my premium coffee intravenously.
Hey, if the docs can’t save me, at least my life here on earth will be “good to the last drop.” Beyond that, I expect my next destination will be a pleasurable place because I absolutely love the heavenly smell of coffee.
Liburdi's recent book "Italian American Fusion: Italy's Influence on the Evolution of America" is available at on-line bookstores and the Kindle Reader.