29. jan, 2017

Espresso - om morgenen og ellers på dagen

"Espresso is to Italy, what champagne is to France. Black as the devil, hot as hell, pure as an angel, sweet as love."


- Charles-Maurice de Talleyrand



Prose Poem ("The morning coffee.")

The morning coffee. I'm not sure why I drink it. Maybe it's the ritual 
of the cup, the spoon, the hot water, the milk, and the little heap of 
brown grit, the way they come together to form a nail I can hang the 
day on. It's something to do between being asleep and being awake. 
Surely there's something better to do, though, than to drink a cup of 
instant coffee. Such as meditate? About what? About having a cup of 
coffee. A cup of coffee whose first drink is too hot and whose last drink 
is too cool, but whose many in-between drinks are, like Baby Bear's por-
ridge, just right. Papa Bear looks disgruntled. He removes his spectacles 
and swivels his eyes onto the cup that sits before Baby Bear, and then, 
after a discrete cough, reaches over and picks it up. Baby Bear doesn't 
understand this disruption of the morning routine. Papa Bear brings 
the cup close to his face and peers at it intently. The cup shatters in his 
paw, explodes actually, sending fragments and brown liquid all over the 
room. In a way it's good that Mama Bear isn't there. Better that she rest 
in her grave beyond the garden, unaware of what has happened to the 

- Ron Padgett






"Short History of Espresso" (Home-Barista.com):