In a Coffee Frame of Mind
Do not speak to me in the morning if I haven't had my coffee. I will only growl. From the moment I wake up to the moment the caffeine hits my nervous system, I am not human. I could morph into the Wicked Witch of the East. Do not bother me.
Of course, it's not really true, though perfectly possible, because breakfast with coffee is such an ingrained part of my day, that to miss it is to miss something of normality. Something is not right if my day does not begin with its regularity of stomach routine. I haven't always had coffee for breakfast, though I have drunk it for many years. When I was young, I couldn't face breakfast. For some reason, my stomach rebelled against any solid food touching it early in the morning. So, during the week, I would drink a glass of orange juice before heading for school.
On weekends, though, I would wake up later. Every Saturday and every Sunday, I would eat buttered toast and drink café au lait. I even remember my favorite mug, orange with a pearlescent white interior. How old was I? I don't remember, but I think my earliest memories of such a breakfast stretch back to being younger than eleven. I don't know how I started drinking it or why my mother would give me, a child, coffee. I just know it is a habit of ages, and now I eat a proper breakfast and have coffee with it every day.
I was introduced to tea when I was a teenager by a lovely couple approaching retirement age that happened to be our neighbors. One evening I was visiting, and they offered me some tea. I declined, saying I had never tried it and wasn't sure I would like it. They pressed it on me, offering sugar and milk, assuring me they wouldn't be offended if I didn't drink it. I liked it. It has never replaced coffee, but from time to time I go on a little craze of drinking afternoon tea. I've tried different kinds, from Earl Grey to red, to green, to Darjeeling, to orange, cinnamon, and mint flavored. It is becoming easier to find different teas now. There's even a specialty shop in Santiago (if it hasn't closed yet) that sells different kinds. I still prefer mine with sugar and milk.
Spain is a coffee kind of place, though. Tea varieties are seen as a fad, much like hipsters and lumberjack shirts. People still go mainly for coffee. Yet there isn't a large variety of coffees on offer. Some coffee shops will offer different coffee beans from different origins, such as Jamaica, Kenya, Colombia, Guatemala, and other places. But those coffee shops are the trendy kind that come and go. If today you visit, next time either they don't offer all those varieties, or the place has closed. And some coffees have torrefacto, an inferior, dark roasted coffee added, which is to be found only in Spain and only adds to the bitterness, in my opinion.
The most common teas here are infusions. The one everyone has on hand is chamomile. Every grandmother will offer you chamomile if you suffer from an upset stomach. I hate it. If I suffer from an upset stomach, chamomile will finish me off. Just the smell of it is enough to make me run from the room. Another infusion for bad stomachs is verbena. To me it's as odious as chamomile. Then there's lime blossom infusion, tila in Spanish. People like to drink it to calm their nerves. It will not calm mine to be offered lime blossom infusion. I prefer to be a proper American and take a pill for that before drinking something that tastes like boiled grass to me. Then there's oregano. Some people swear by infusion of oregano when they have colds, saying it helps them breathe better and makes the cold go away faster. Please, the only oregano I want to see is in tomato sauce and on pizza.
Coffee. Good, sensible, life-giving coffee. That's all I need.
Of course, it's not really true, though perfectly possible, because breakfast with coffee is such an ingrained part of my day, that to miss it is to miss something of normality. Something is not right if my day does not begin with its regularity of stomach routine. I haven't always had coffee for breakfast, though I have drunk it for many years. When I was young, I couldn't face breakfast. For some reason, my stomach rebelled against any solid food touching it early in the morning. So, during the week, I would drink a glass of orange juice before heading for school.
On weekends, though, I would wake up later. Every Saturday and every Sunday, I would eat buttered toast and drink café au lait. I even remember my favorite mug, orange with a pearlescent white interior. How old was I? I don't remember, but I think my earliest memories of such a breakfast stretch back to being younger than eleven. I don't know how I started drinking it or why my mother would give me, a child, coffee. I just know it is a habit of ages, and now I eat a proper breakfast and have coffee with it every day.
I was introduced to tea when I was a teenager by a lovely couple approaching retirement age that happened to be our neighbors. One evening I was visiting, and they offered me some tea. I declined, saying I had never tried it and wasn't sure I would like it. They pressed it on me, offering sugar and milk, assuring me they wouldn't be offended if I didn't drink it. I liked it. It has never replaced coffee, but from time to time I go on a little craze of drinking afternoon tea. I've tried different kinds, from Earl Grey to red, to green, to Darjeeling, to orange, cinnamon, and mint flavored. It is becoming easier to find different teas now. There's even a specialty shop in Santiago (if it hasn't closed yet) that sells different kinds. I still prefer mine with sugar and milk.
Spain is a coffee kind of place, though. Tea varieties are seen as a fad, much like hipsters and lumberjack shirts. People still go mainly for coffee. Yet there isn't a large variety of coffees on offer. Some coffee shops will offer different coffee beans from different origins, such as Jamaica, Kenya, Colombia, Guatemala, and other places. But those coffee shops are the trendy kind that come and go. If today you visit, next time either they don't offer all those varieties, or the place has closed. And some coffees have torrefacto, an inferior, dark roasted coffee added, which is to be found only in Spain and only adds to the bitterness, in my opinion.
The most common teas here are infusions. The one everyone has on hand is chamomile. Every grandmother will offer you chamomile if you suffer from an upset stomach. I hate it. If I suffer from an upset stomach, chamomile will finish me off. Just the smell of it is enough to make me run from the room. Another infusion for bad stomachs is verbena. To me it's as odious as chamomile. Then there's lime blossom infusion, tila in Spanish. People like to drink it to calm their nerves. It will not calm mine to be offered lime blossom infusion. I prefer to be a proper American and take a pill for that before drinking something that tastes like boiled grass to me. Then there's oregano. Some people swear by infusion of oregano when they have colds, saying it helps them breathe better and makes the cold go away faster. Please, the only oregano I want to see is in tomato sauce and on pizza.
Coffee. Good, sensible, life-giving coffee. That's all I need.
I am a tea drinker and love it when I am sipping tea while my Brit friends are drinking coffee. Role reversals. Rick brings me tea in bed. Lovely way to start the day.
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