There’s Something About Coffee

One of my fondest memories from childhood is waking up early on a weekend morning to the smell of a freshly brewed pot of coffee.  It was (and is) an intoxicating aroma – warm and comforting.  I’ve always smiled at the images of my dad, morning stubble and all, hunched over the morning paper with a steaming mug of Columbian goodness close by his side.

All that almost changed one fateful day when I was five or six and decided to sneak a sip.

It was terrible.  Like dirty, gritty, caffeinated rainwater.  I couldn’t believe anyone would willingly ingest such a toxic substance.  And yet, here was my old man, happily sucking it down like a holy elixir, savoring every drop.  Why would he willingly dump this sludge down his gullet when a delicious mug of hot cocoa was no more than a boiling teakettle away?

My disgust with coffee continued well into adulthood.  Oh sure, I’d have an occasional cup in college if I needed a quick boost after a late night out on the town.  But I’d load it up with so much cream and sugar that it more closely resembled a crunchy bowl of whole milk than anything harvested by Juan Valdez.  Raw, black coffee resided squarely at the bottom of my “need to drink” list.

So why, with those recollections still fresh in my mind, did I rush to the coffeepot this morning, fill my travel mug to the rim and then stare longingly into its empty void, craving more, after swallowing the 20th and final ounce?  Why has this been my daily routine for the past 10+ years?  At what point did my abhorrence become allegiance?

I think it happens to all of us.  Something we detested in our youth becomes a necessary, and even enjoyable, staple in our adult lives.  For many of my peers, it started with coffee.  I haven’t known many six-year-olds who crave it.  Yet, in the office, we crowd around a brewing pot like cattle, waiting for our morning (and sometimes afternoon) dose.  At Starbucks and Einstein Brothers, the lines wind their way out the doors every Saturday and Sunday, with people – including me – willingly paying upwards of $4.00 for their trouble!

The mysterious transformation has always puzzled me.  Is the adult need for coffee psychological?  Physical?  Emotional?  I mean, it basically tastes the same today as it did when we were kids.  So why do so many of us love it now when we loathed it 20 or more years ago?  I wonder about this frequently as I sleepily load up another filter and flip the switch to “brew.”

I guess, in the end, it’s best not to overthink it.  Enlightened or not, I’ll still wake up tomorrow morning, rub my eyes, fill my mug, slurp it down, and restart the whole cycle again the next day.

And I still usually add a little cream and (a lot of) sugar.  I guess I’ve still got some growing up to do.