THE DAY I COOKED THE COFFEE
Posted: Sat Jun 15, 2013 3:25 pm
A story about a slight misadventure concerning coffee
THE DAY I COOKED THE COFFEE
When it comes to coffee, what I drink most is Instant.
Coffee purists would, I guess, regard this opt as distant
from their sophisticated swills that sprout from slick devices,
Cappuccino, Espresso and Latte, all with bloated prices.
As it happened, recently, when visiting my daughter,
no lover of my humble brew, she said to me I oughta
make my coffee with ground beans in a Moka Pot.
She had no instant anyway so, choice was not a lot.
On her way out the door she gave me swift instructions,
reasoning that from this drill I’d make correct deductions
to produce a beverage strong and hot and tasty.
On reflection and in truth, tuition much too hasty.
Ingredients of water, ground beans and heat, nothing else was needed,
strict application of these parts, perhaps I should have heeded.
One had to be loaded to a marked line on the pot,
the other placed above, light the gas flame to get hot.
Proceeding as outlined above, I left to read my book,
leaving tasty coffee for aforesaid stove to cook.
I must admit the smell of roasting coffee is quite pleasant
but soon, throughout the house came a pong quite omnipresent.
Acrid is perchance the word describing this stink best,
fanning from the Moka Pot that left one unimpressed.
Clearly this was not the intentional result
and I could see maybe, I’d not join the coffee cult.
Inspection of the quite hot pot found a serious flaw,
leading to acceptance that this vessel would not pour
the cuppa I’d expected which was a terrible shame,
seems coffee not the water rested just above the flame.
Talk about roasted, the coffee was cremated,
the pot fared not much better, while the stench reigned unabated,
not a happy episode, in fact, close to devastation,
this drink could not be saved by the strongest of filtration.
So, breakfast then proceeded with just cereal and toast,
bread browned to perfection but, I’m not one to boast.
Coffee off the menu for quite some time to come,
much enterprise needed to clear the pot of scum.
Some success was gained using bi carbonate of soda
although that did little to clear the awful odour
which lingered like a London fog for days,
a constant reminder of the botched posh coffee phase.
My barista status was thus wrecked in one fell swoop,
never to progress beyond the instant coffee group,
however, to improve my rank I’ve grown a new persona,
from now on, no Nescafe, my coffee is Moccona.
Jeff Thorpe 12 June 2013 ©
THE DAY I COOKED THE COFFEE
When it comes to coffee, what I drink most is Instant.
Coffee purists would, I guess, regard this opt as distant
from their sophisticated swills that sprout from slick devices,
Cappuccino, Espresso and Latte, all with bloated prices.
As it happened, recently, when visiting my daughter,
no lover of my humble brew, she said to me I oughta
make my coffee with ground beans in a Moka Pot.
She had no instant anyway so, choice was not a lot.
On her way out the door she gave me swift instructions,
reasoning that from this drill I’d make correct deductions
to produce a beverage strong and hot and tasty.
On reflection and in truth, tuition much too hasty.
Ingredients of water, ground beans and heat, nothing else was needed,
strict application of these parts, perhaps I should have heeded.
One had to be loaded to a marked line on the pot,
the other placed above, light the gas flame to get hot.
Proceeding as outlined above, I left to read my book,
leaving tasty coffee for aforesaid stove to cook.
I must admit the smell of roasting coffee is quite pleasant
but soon, throughout the house came a pong quite omnipresent.
Acrid is perchance the word describing this stink best,
fanning from the Moka Pot that left one unimpressed.
Clearly this was not the intentional result
and I could see maybe, I’d not join the coffee cult.
Inspection of the quite hot pot found a serious flaw,
leading to acceptance that this vessel would not pour
the cuppa I’d expected which was a terrible shame,
seems coffee not the water rested just above the flame.
Talk about roasted, the coffee was cremated,
the pot fared not much better, while the stench reigned unabated,
not a happy episode, in fact, close to devastation,
this drink could not be saved by the strongest of filtration.
So, breakfast then proceeded with just cereal and toast,
bread browned to perfection but, I’m not one to boast.
Coffee off the menu for quite some time to come,
much enterprise needed to clear the pot of scum.
Some success was gained using bi carbonate of soda
although that did little to clear the awful odour
which lingered like a London fog for days,
a constant reminder of the botched posh coffee phase.
My barista status was thus wrecked in one fell swoop,
never to progress beyond the instant coffee group,
however, to improve my rank I’ve grown a new persona,
from now on, no Nescafe, my coffee is Moccona.
Jeff Thorpe 12 June 2013 ©
