Addiction, to be sure,....but to WHAT is the question?

I was never into the coffee culture all that much. In fact, I remember distinctly as a child wondering how in the Hell adults could swig this poison with such regularity as they did

The age old cliche', "Not before my morning coffee", (or some varying equivalent), was heard more than once in my young life and on the rare occasion I sipped my grandmother or mother's coffee I remember the taste damn near turning my face inside out.

All except for one occasion and it was in,....I wanna say Kindergarten,....yeah,...let's go with that.

Kindergarten.

I got a lemon drop lodged in my throat. Not enough to cut off my air but enough to cause me obvious distress. I spent the remainder of that school day perched on the teacher's lap like some cherubic ventriloquist dummy as she poured her coffee down my throat in a pretty clever on the spot attempt to melt the candy.

Very MacGyver of her and kudos to the woman. I hope wherever she is, she's well because she was a great and kind teacher.

I didn't mind the coffee that day.

And now, I am an adult, (well, in theory), and truth be told, I cannot remember when I started drinking coffee on a regular basis, least of all when or how I developed the ability to discern good coffee from bad coffee.

But here it is. A hidden talent that perhaps most people have but like a weird sort of sensory puberty,....it doesn't hit till a certain point, (though I DO know kids drink coffee quite a bit more than when I was younger).

Now,...it's easy and even in some cases, trendy to claim addiction to one thing or another. Almost as if some people wear the addiction on their sleeves as some tragic badge of honor or conversation piece, which I think undercuts people with legitimate addictions.

"I'm sooooooo addicted to Redbull, y'know?"

So I am hesitant to say I am addicted to coffee.

The Oxford American Dictionary describes addiction thusly:

Addiction: ( a-dik-shon) n. 1. doing or using something as habit or compulsively. 2. devoted to something as a hobby or interest.

Well shit! Addiction I'm not partial to but I can sure a s Hell do interest!

I'm not addicted to coffee,....I'm interested in it!

It's a hobby.

It's printed right there in black and white so, A.) It must be true, and B.) It doesn't matter cause it's in print. :)

Seriously though,...if I had to guess,.....it's the feeling it invokes. There's an almost ritual to it's preparation. The filling of the pot, sliding the filter into place, spooning out the grounds, (grinding them if you're really hard core). It's become a prelude to the day. A period of reflection while you wrap your hands around the warm cup and let the aroma fill your nose in the same way it fills your house as it's brewing, drifting through the air like a delicate spirit with it's fragile bouquet.

For me,.....the taste,...the taste of a particular brand of coffee conjures an immediate sense memory. I actually have Dunkin' Donuts brand coffee shipped to me here in California. First of all, it's simply due to the fact that it's Goddam good coffee.

That's the first thing.

Second is, simply,...it reminds me of home. It brings forth images of people getting out of their cars early in the morning, while the sky is still dark and their breath comes out in a dense fog swirling around their heads as these people, women in heavy coats and blue-collar men in flannel and work boots all converge at the altar of the morning with the pink and orange sign calling them like a beacon.

I don't eat the donuts but the smell is fantastic. You step up to the counter and a woman, (generally), with a hard Boston accent, (always), says, "Who's next?", or "What can I get foreyah?", or other times simply point at you and say, "Yah?"

And you say, "Large, (Laaaage), regular." and they put the half and half and sugar in, pop the plastic top on that styrofoam cup and you're on your way,...pushing out past the line of people waiting for their magic elixer as you trudge to your car, a little warmer now against the freezing New England wind and most assuredly, ready to face the day.

There's also a sort of weird brotherhood between D&D coffee drinkers. I've seen total strangers pass one another, each holding a cup and raise it like a toast, giving a little nod to eachother as if they're silently saying, "Hey buddy, we're smarter, (smahtah), than the rest of em' aint we?"

Weird, the little things that draw us together.

There really must be a "home memory" over taste factor to it because my friend Elaine has Tim Hortons coffee shipped in from Canada and she swears by it,.....while conversely, it nearly killed my parents while traveling through Canada recently.

The second they hit the Maine border they went straight to a "Dunkies" like it was an oasis in the Gobi desert, (except with crullers).

Though whether you like your local version of "joe" or Chock full-o-nuts I think we can all agree that this whole Starbucks thing is bullshit.

If I want bitter tasting swamp water that looks like motor-oil strained through a sweat sock I'll do it myself,....and I certainly won't charge myself five bucks for the privilege.

I also don't want to have to learn how to speak Italian to order a coffee.

Every time I've been in there ordering I feel like a dim slow child trying to read Green Eggs and Ham for the first time. You read very slowly and move your lips a s lot.

"I'd like a ,......mocha-latti-ssimo-chai....kakka-chino.....some..thing-iatto?"

And their sizes?

Tall, (small), Grande, (still small), and Venti!,(Dunkin' Donuts small).

And you're not a barrista, okay? YOU POUR COFFEE.

And they have a school for this when they hire you? Are you kidding me? You go to electrician school, or plumbers school or carpentry school or computer school. I don't need to go to coffee school. I think I can figure out how to sell you $7 coffee, (whipped cream and caramel drizzle, sir?), and fleece you for a biscotti.

And the clientele'? Do I really wanna sit there next to some Hollywood poser with his iBook and listen to the little clown talk way too loudly into his cell phone about his screenplay?

Nobody wants to see Gremlins 5, jack-hole.

It's enough to put you off the coffee experience completely!

So I continue to observe my coffee ritual in the quiet of my own home, or my office.

So there it is. Drinking coffee is a psychological extension of home which reminds me of a safer time when I felt more secure. Coffee=Home=safe therefore we can extrapolate from this equation that coffee=safe!

See?

Or maybe I'm just addicted.

Sean