The Journey to Jernabi. Part 1.

I love coffee. I am a self described coffee geek. I drink it, brew it, extract it, wear coffee oriented clothes, and roast it. I attend coffee trade shows like a Trekkie would attend a Star Trek Convention. I trade blending recipes and talk with others about roasting profiles.

I wasn't always this way. I honestly didn't like the stuff, and not too long ago. I'd drink it, but not willingly.

Enter a friend I'll call Dave. (His real name). Dave is compulsive in his passions. Sailing, kayaking, book binding (book binding?), coffee. If it is worth doing, it is worth doing to perfection. I admire that about him (he's a looney). One day, Dave bought an espresso machine. Not a $100 StuffMart Special. I fancy-shmancy espresso machine with knobs to turn and tubes that hiss, and supplies that fit neatly into his numerous color-coded and inventoried action packers. (did I mention that he was looney?) Dave asked me if I wanted him to make me something he called a latte. "Sure, what the heck. What do I do with it?" was my reply. "You drink it", Dave replied with a petulant sniff. I answered with a look of dubiousness and a non-commital shrug of my shoulder, which I hoped was bohemian enough to impress him

"Look, are we going to trade obscure body language, or are we going to drink coffee?" Dave inpatiently asked.

"Oh, sorry. Please continue." I said

So here's Dave. He grinds some coffee, and puts it into this small think that looks like a metal cupcake tin with a handle. He pushes it down with a wooden handled tool, and brushes off the crumbs. He puts it into the espresso robot, and sets up his timer. He has a timer, did I mention that? I have since realized that timers are essential tools for looneys. He pushes a button, and makes the tubes hiss and watches his timer. After a few seconds of awkward silence, he mutters something, shakes his head and takes the cupcake holder out of the robot and discards the coffee grounds. Now he adjusts the knobs on his grinder. Yes, his grinder has knobs, too. He makes what looks like a 1/360 degree adjustment, puts more coffee in the cupcake holder, smashes it down and puts it into the robot. Next the timer. Next the awkward silence and yep, the muttering. He does this three or four times.

I'm starting to wonder if he is punishing me. Am I to be like Sisyphus? You know, the guy who has to spend eternity rolling a boulder up a hill, only to have it roll down the other side? Will Dave just make coffee, only to throw it away?

Finally, he hands me a cup of velvety-smooth steamed milk, espresso and caramel. Here is where I am supposed to say that from that point on, I became a coffee drinker. Well, that didn't happen. In fact, when he wasn't looking, I dumped it into the sink. (Sorry Dave).

But it got me curious...
Stay tuned for Part Duex