Tag Archives: cafe

Epic cliché alert: Brain-dump about coffee. Written and posted while sitting a coffee shop.

My family and friends know that I don’t mind a cup of coffee. Indeed, they know that I don’t mind many cups of coffee each day - sometimes in a single sitting.  I’m frightened to think about how many dollars I tip into the Australian hospitality industry, through cafes and espresso bars, each year. And then there’s what I’ve spent on equipment so I can enjoy good coffee at home.

But it wasn’t always like this. See, just 13 short years ago I couldn’t stand the taste of coffee or understand how others could possibly find it enjoyable it either. That said, I did kind of enjoy the aroma and I was more than happy to make my family, friends and work colleagues a cup of Nescafé Blend 43 on demand.

And I think that’s where me and coffee got off on the wrong foot. I grew up in a house where instant coffee was the brew of choice. Hey, it was 1970s/80s Newcastle (alternative link here)! In fact, the only memories I have of my mum having something other than instant coffee was a $1.20 cappuccino at the David Jones cafe-restaurant at Garden City (RIP). I remember these moments because my sister and I used to fight about who’s turn it was to teaspoon-off the foam and chocolate from the cappuccino. The challenge was to get as much of the foam as we could without getting any of the vile coffee underneath.

When I started working, the office kitchen only ever had instant coffee, tea bags and Milo. With my chronic sweet tooth, I always elected the latter even though it wasn’t the grown-ups’ drink.

One day, as I was washing something up in the kitchen, a colleague by the name of Mark came in to make his coffee. I was always intrigued that he used a “plunger thing” and that the coffee he used simply dissolve in water. I casually said to him, “Some days I wish I drank coffee”. Oh how I would live to both celebrate and regret those seven words.

“Derek-San…”, he replied [as our import manager, Mark spent a lot of time in Japan and thought adding the San made my name sound more 'worldly'], “…how about I make you a cup of coffee sometime and you can tell me what you think?” I said something to the effect of “Fine, but don’t be surprised if I tip it out”. Mark laughed and I thought no more of it.

The following Monday, as I was sitting at my desk browsing the Internet (using Windows 95 and a shared 33.6K dial-up connection from OzEmail) , Mark appeared with my Milo mug. It wasn’t full of Milo, however. Mark looked at me and simply said, “Let’s see how this is, mate”. With an immense sense of peer pressure, and equal level of trepidation, I took a sip from the cup.

I enjoyed it. I mean, I REALLY enjoyed it. He made sure my first “hit” was a memorable one. The gateway drug was a mid-roasted blend, made in the French press, and supplemented with lots of sugar and milk. He knew what it would take to ease me into this coffee thing and he whipped something up that suited my pallet.

The rest, as they say, is history. I ended up buying my own French press about a week later. I set a “most coffees consumed in one day” record in the office. I stopped ordering hot chocolates at cafes and have transitioned my way from mochas to double ristettos. I’m onto my fourth espresso machine at home and pondering which will be the fifth. I can’t remember the last time I had Milo.

Mark, you have a lot to answer for.