Java jive

This morning, round two, way too early.

No matter how hot it gets — and it’s getting plenty hot! — I refuse to surrender my two cups of steaming black coffee in the morning.

Remember the old Folger’s jingle? “The best part of wakin’ up,” and so on? Well, the best part of waking up is not “Folger’s in your cup” — it’s waking up, because this means you didn’t snuff it during the night, which in turn means you can now get out of bed and make yourself a proper cup of actual coffee.

I’m not a coffee Nazi, but at home — and whenever possible on the road — I have my rituals.

I start with Santa Fe’s Aroma Coffee, roughly a 60-40 mix of their Blacklightning and French Roast beans, hand-ground either that morning or the night before. I used to rely upon an ancient Braun espresso maker that I’ve dragged all over Creation, but finally decided that an AeroPress and an OXO electric pour-over kettle were a whole lot less likely to explode on me before achieving coffee. I’m not afraid to die unless it happens before coffee.

If I’m car camping, I grind my beans before leaving El Rancho Pendejo and use an elderly Coleman two-burner and a battered blue-enamel coffee pot to boil water for the AeroPress.

Camping camping? Downsize the cooking gear to a Soto OD-1R stove, a Snow Peak titanium pot, and an AeroPress Go.

And if I’m lording it in some motel … goddamn it, I hate to admit this, but if there’s a Starbuck’s within walking distance I’m likely to just stagger over there and slam a couple Americanos. If I moteled it more often I’d acquire some small electric kettle and do it up right.

Because the second-best part of waking up is that first cup of coffee.

On the edge of the desert

Cup No. 3.

It’s not often that I go for that third cup of coffee. But dammit, when it’s 30°-something as a fella struggles out from under the covers, he just might need a triple hit of Arabica. Ether for the carburetor, don’t you know.

I’m better now. Of course, it’s warmer now. Both inside and out.

“Haven’t you ever heard that no news is good news?”

We start our mornings with a 50-50 blend of French Roast and Black Lightning from Aroma Coffee in Santa Fe. It’ll set your gherkin to perkin’, especially after Cup No. 3.  Bzzt bzzt bzzt.

Still, it’s pretty lightweight as drug habits go. There was a time when mornings required something with a little more authority — some coffee, a couple of red beers, and a bump or two or three — but the nights were longer back then. We didn’t hit the sack at 9 p.m. Sometimes we didn’t hit it at all.

Now we have mornings where burrowing back under the covers seems the only sensible course of action. Coffee will not repel the daily assault on your senses by The New York Times, The Washington Post, and your hometown rumor mill. It’s like sending a hamster to croak a Kodiak bear.

Still, as you know, you read the news with the drugs you have, not the drugs you might want or wish you had at a later time. If those don’t work, try the covers.

Aromatherapy

The best part of waking up, etc.

I spent the early morning self-quarantining with a medicinal cup of French Roast-Black Lightning from Aroma Coffee of Santa Fe.

No, no, I don’t have the coronavirus. Not yet; not that I know of, anyway. Just the usual attitude. Gotta beat that shit into submission before greeting the day.

I’m not what you’d call a power user of the iPhone, but today I used mine to check the news while propped up on the pillows, enjoying my coffee. Oof, bad idea. The rest of the world seems at least as dumb as I am, which is not reassuring.

For example, I thought people might stop shooting each other for a while. You know, let nature take its course. Nope. What’s next, drive-bys on the drive-up testing sites?

“Yo, I got a test for you, bitch! How fast can you run?” Pow pow pow, etc.