Coffee Muggin' It

This might be lame to write about, but it's something that I thought about as I was helplessly trying to keep my eyes awake at work today.

I need another coffee mug. Not that there's anything wrong with the one I currently use. It's actually very cute and it was a gift from my fellow friend/temp (or fremp as I shall dub her) for Christmas last year. Since it was for the season it has pictured on it a double image going around it of a smiling snowman in the midst of fat snow drops, shining stars, and cardinal perched atop a crescent moon. At the time I was not only grateful for the thought but it also came in handy. Before then I had to decide between a Goofy mug one of my sisters got from Disney or a big Campbell's soup-mug (and I don't just mean it had the logo on it- it was intended for soup and so therefore, pretty big). I hadn't been working here all that long and, not wanting to appear like one of those corny bear-sweatshirt wearing semi-adults, I chose the lesser evil with the Campbell's soup mug. I didn't mind looking like a walking advertisement, but the problem was I ended up filling my mug with a bathtub of coffee that seemed to always escape the wide lip and dribble down my chin. I half considered taking a spoon to it, but then I might look not just like an ad but also a person a LITTLE too obsessed with their coffee- something I wasn't and actually never thought I would be...till now.

Coffee, along with wine, was something I tasted in my youth and didn't understand all the hub-bub. Both always tasted so bitter or burning that I couldn't help scrunching my face after a sip. After a while, and some years of experimentation, I finally began to develop a taste for wine (still opting for the sweet over the dry) but coffee continued to baffle me.

Even as a kid in history class when we would be learning about early settlers and the coffee trade, I didn't understand why these sailors would risk their lives over something so nasty. At least gold or silver I could understand, they seemed to have an obvious value. But things like that, and spices or tobacco as well, seemed rather trivial. It wasn't till later that I understood that these things were sought as luxuries, as valuable as gold or silver, for the rich and wealthy. They certainly didn't NEED these things, but they wanted to change the flavor of their food, they needed tobacco for their pipes, and coffee to mask the rancid taste of their water. Still, I wasn't totally convinced coffee was worth it, nor did it mask a rancid flavor but encourage it.

I had given up on it for years, never bothering to taste it again, until one morning at Joe's aunt's house. We had been visiting his family up in Utica, New York, and were about to make the trek back home. Joe's aunt invited us over for a quick breakfast before we headed out. Of course, what was thought to be a small breakfast of toast or cereal was a beautiful buffet of scrambled eggs, bagels, muffins, fruit, juice, and of course, coffee. I had helped myself to the food and a glass of juice and sat down. Joe's aunt asked if I wanted some coffee too, and never liking to turn down an offer of kindness from his family, I accepted it. I also didn't want her to think I didn't like it, so I told myself I would get down at least a few gulps.

As we sat down to eat I took a bite of my eggs and then a sip of the coffee (if you recall my "Mike's Grandma and Meat Pie" story, you'll remember that that is my method of getting down food I don't like--by pairing it with something neutral and hiding the flavor. Kinda like the Von Trapp family escaping through the Alps). I expected that same horribly bitter taste, but instead I realized an actual depth of flavor. I did cut it with some cream and sugar, but still, I was amazed at how velvety smooth it went down. Not just that, but it actually complemented the breakfast foods very well. For some reason it made everything taste better. I happily finished the mug and even helped myself to a little more. I couldn't believe it...me, as a coffee drinker?

Though I have a cup at least once a day at work, I still have yet to insist on it, the way hardcore addicts do. And I still can't handle it without cream and sugar. My friend Ash prefers espresso and if that's not available, black coffee. I don't think my stomach or nerves would ever be able to handle it that raw. But I do find that it does a remarkable job of pulling my eyelids open when I feel like I'll slip into a coma right at my keyboard (as it did this morning).

The question is now to find another mug, something that maybe emphasizes my personality. Sure the one I have now is completely cute and functional. And sure, I admit that a big part of the reason is because I saw that commercial about Starbucks coffee where everyone is known by their coffee mug ("I Hate Mondays" and "I Love Dogs") and I'm a certified sucker for advertisement psychology.

Still, wouldn't it be nice to say to the world, in one carefully chosen catch-phrase emblazoned on a piece of smooth ceramic, who you are? Maybe I can't say it to your face, but you can read it on my mug.