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| This is the whole shebang |
Let me wax a little poetic about the delicious
experience of making and drinking a great cup of coffee. The heavenly scent of
freshly ground beans fortifies me while I prepare to make an espresso.
Accompanying hums and rattles wake me up in increments while my machine
produces the demitasse of liquid energy. The wisps of steam from the espresso accented
with cinnamon or chocolate alert my nose to the forthcoming tastes. I tend to
mellow my espresso with milk, steamed in the winter. During the summer months,
I double the cooling effect of cold milk with a handful of ice. That first sip,
that perfect ratio of coffee to milk, is in some ways a form of worship for me,
and that's hardly an exaggeration.
