Demi Tasse to Wine Glass

I am both a morning and an evening person. I always seem to miss seeing the sun rise, but I enjoy those hours shortly after; fresh hours of anticipation before the sun makes it to his noon perch, changing soft, subtle light into a full spectrum that reveals all. (I am not an afternoon person. It must be the unfavorable lighting.) Mostly, I love morning because I love my morning coffee. And coffee belongs to the morning. Afternoon and evening coffee drinkers just don't know enough about wine, or they would realize there is a time for everything under the heavens. For me, that means coffee in the morning, espresso in the afternoon, and wine in the evening. (note: wine is allowed to break all rules of time, obviously.)

Time is of the essence, but so are the coffee beans. My mother suffers from chronic coffee deprivation, as she can't seem to get a good cup. She waits for a visit from me, and does all of her coffee drinking then. It isn't that she can't grind beans or use a French press. It isn't lack of skill, or pixie dust. Good coffee is made from beans that are of good quality and have been roasted very recently (same day or at least the same week) and preferably, locally. This preserves freshness of flavor. Basically, you aren't going to find it at Starbucks or your local grocer. I've yet to find beans fresher, tastier, or more artfully rendered than the ones I purchase at Oren's, but Gorilla Coffee is a close second, and because it's close by it is the coffee I drink daily. Read more on the Oren's web site if you want a short education in achieving optimal flavor, and how to properly grind the beans. They know what they're doing. I am a mere consumer. As for the brew method, I prefer a thermal French press made by Bodum, but I have been known to enjoy a good percolator.

Next, the pouring of the cup. For me, it's nothing but the coffee and whole milk from Ronnybrook Dairy. Less than whole fat milk makes the coffee weak and dreary, and half and half or cream is too strong. Whole, creamline milk is just right. It is simply divine, and it has become so integral to my coffee drinking that when I can't have this milk, from this dairy, I just drink my coffee black. All other milk is the equivalent of water for chocolate.

After an interval of less than optimal light, we reach the late afternoon, when it is surely a good thing to sip a little afternoon pick-me-up known as the espresso. I can't afford a good machine, so a good second choice is to make a stovetop version, Italian style. I own a Brikka, and have had nice results as long as I buy fresh espresso ground specifically for a stovetop machine. It's easy to use, and fills the brief moment of time when the New York city skyline warns that the day is already over again by 4:30, and rush hour is among us. Yes, the espresso will do wonders for barreling down subway stairs at 6:00, or stealing cabs from slowpokes. And then of course there is always that mad rush from subway door to stairs coming out of the station, because if you aren't one of the first ones out (and I always am) you'll be forced to move sardine-like up the stairs, some one's rear much too close for comfort.

All of this caffeine has made me thirsty for a glass of red. After all, I am an evening person, too...