For my beloved Brother who introduced me to the art of cooking, who taught me how to taste and truly love food. Without him I'd never be able to be where I am today.

February 6, 2014

Hanky-panky Coffee

I’m barely awake, barely sleeping. The air in the room is moist and cold. I should get up. He’s almost up, I should be too. He’s up. Damn. Should I follow? Nah. What’s two more minutes? He has to shower first any way. I pull the duvet over my matted bed head.

Was it two minutes, or was it a week, I can’t tell. I come back to life to the sound of coffee beans bursting in the grinder followed by that luring scent: one of the few things that make me get out of bed before 9 am. Or could it be that I’m longing for his warm body against mine? Probably both, in no particular order. In fact I’d like them together, at the same time. Pretty please. Here goes hoping. One more minute.

Telepathy? He's back. The bounce of the bed as he sits next to me invites me to sit up too. Puffy face, morning breath. He kisses me regardless. A smile. Okay I’m up.

He hands me a steaming cup with a broken handle. Freshly brewed coffee: Berry-like, fruity, slightly acidic and light; long lasting flavours and aromas. And then this tune.

Could I stay here, forever? Would that be a dreadful crime against humanity? The rest is history and some damn fine hanky-panky coffee.

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