Coffee makes me think of two fond memories with my dad:
1. He used to make me the yummiest Bru coffee with bubbles on top.
2. If we were running an errand, we’d stop for a hot, filter coffee at the Shanti Sagar, near Ulsoor lake.
It’s funny how these memories come to you when you write a blog. It also brings to mind a time when a close friend told me over coffee that she was leaving her husband because she was coming out of the closet. As if that wasn’t shock enough, the Cappuccino sucked.
I’ve always found the smell of freshly brewed coffee revolting and wondered why we were aping the rest of the world. Couldn’t I just have my filter coffee?
April 16th 2015: Our flight from India lands in Adelaide and the kids and I walk out to meet Andy (he had arrived two months before us). I was tired, anxious and excited. After the welcome hugs, Andy gives me a Cappuccino from the airport cafe. It was lukewarm and I gagged a little bit after the first sip. It dawns on me – no filter coffee!
Kill me now!
29th July 2018: Just finished a hot cup of coffee and enjoyed it. Yes, it’s a change, a big one. I now love my Lattes and have my own coffee machine at home.
I always ask for an ‘extra hot’ coffee because I still don’t understand how a coffee can be lukewarm (cafes make theirs lukewarm for safety purposes so people don’t burn themselves).
Would I still opt for a filter coffee if given a choice? Hell ya!
In Part 2 of the ‘coffee’ post, I’ll share how COFFEE plays a big part in a migrant’s life in Australia. Stay tuned…