Read CocoaJava’s review of Meadowfly Farm soap!

A message from Che Sweetland, crafter of handmade goat milk soaps:

Working alongside my pet dairy goats, I use their compassionately-farmed milk to create a variety of all-natural, handmade goat milk soaps that appeal to everybody in the family. My soaps include ingredients such as Shea butter, coconut oil, avocado oil, and olive oil. I use natural preservatives, essential oils for scent, and natural colors such as lemon peel powder and olive leaf powder. All of our soaps have a lovely, creamy lather. Because each bar of soap is handmade, there will be slight variations from item to another which makes each bar unique!

I founded Meadowfly Farm in 2009 with the intent of creating a compassionate environment for pets and farm animals as well as people. I decided to start making goat milk soap for family and friends who are particularly sensitive to fragrance oils or other chemicals used in mainstream soaps. My family and friends liked the soap so much that I started Goat Milk Soap by Meadowfly Farm in 2012 and began to sell my soaps.

Compassionate farming is my passion! I believe that healthy, content animals create the best products. My family owns and operates a micro-farm nestled in the woods of Maine. We live with compassion toward our animals, each other, and the earth. My animals are provided environmental enrichment in addition to plenty of human interaction. Unlike most dairy goat farmers, I feel that it is important for goats to have the experience of mothering and of learning to be a goat. I allow my mother goats to raise their kids. Most dairy goat farmers will separate the kids from the mothers immediately after birth, then milk the female goats and bottle-raise the kids. This allows the farmer to control how much milk the kid gets and how much milk the farmer gets. This may increase the amount of milk that those farmers get from each doe, but I feel that it is not in the goats’ best interest. Out of compassion for my goats and by putting their needs ahead of mine, I am proud to work with my goats rather than around them. Each of my goats is a pet. They each have a name. I know the sound of their individual voices. My goats are happy, healthy animals. Because of this, they create healthier milk which makes the exceptional soap that I create.

While providing my customers with exceptional goat milk soap, I am spreading knowledge about compassionate farming techniques. The health and wellness of my goats is held as more important than producing larger quantities of milk. By allowing goat kids to be raised by their mothers, I am providing both mother and kid goats with a better quality of life. I also educate my customers on the importance of good nutrition, environmental enrichment, and loving care for pets as well as farm animals. For too long, farm animals have been considered and treated like property. If a farm animal isn’t “earning its keep,” it was sold or slaughtered. Goat farmers have manipulated natural processes by not allowing does to raise their kids, given medications to the does to increase milk production despite the fact that this physically burdened those mother goats, and bred each goat every year until she died. In my opinion, these practices are wrong. In my experience, they are unnecessary. By educating my customers and sharing my knowledge. I hope to improve the quality of life for all farm animals.

I am thrilled to share my soaps and my message with my customers and online followers!

Meadowfly Farm Coffee Goat Milk Soap

Shortly before Christmas, 2012, I featured a gift-giving guide here at CocoaJava.  A good friend then emailed me to let me know about a friend of hers who made goat milk soap with coffee grounds in it, thinking it would be a perfect addition to my gift list.  I’ve used coffee grounds in soaps and scrubs in the past with good results, so this sounded like a good idea to me. I added Meadowfly Farm Coffee Goat Milk Soap to the gift list.  Last month, I received a very pleasant email from Che Sweetland, the woman who creates the soaps. Apparently that holiday gift guide had sent quite a few visitors her way, and she wished to send me a bar of her soap in thanks.  Che explained that she was being kept very busy by two baby goats that required frequent hand-feeding, but as soon as she could she would send the soap. I liked her priorities!

The soap arrived soon after, and of course I couldn’t wait to give it a try.  I studied the natural paper wrapper before ripping into it. The smiling face of Dory the goat graced the front, while a label on the side clearly stated the ingredients used: pure goat milk, olive oil, coconut oil, canola oil, palm kernel oil, lye, shea butter, avocado oil, beeswax, coffee and sodium lactate.  My hands tingled in anticipation.

Directly out of the wrapper, the soap had a soothing, soft feel, even though the bar was quite solid.  It smelled faintly of coffee, mingled with mild, pleasant undernotes. Once run under warm water, the full aroma was released. The coffee scent grew stronger but not overwhelming, buffered by the other ingredients.  I scrubbed up a lather in my hands, and was delighted by the foamy bubbles that formed quickly and in abundance. I gave my hands a good scrubbing. I enjoyed the experience as the soap soothed my skin and entertained my nose.

Usually I need some lotion on my hands after washing them, but I decided to skip it this time as I wanted to find out more about how the soap would directly affect my skin. I did not develop the small cracks and tendency towards flaky skin I often get.  My skin felt clean and fresh. It did feel a bit tight as time went on, but I have chronically dry skin.  For me to be able to go without lotion at all is a testament to the gentle, soothing ingredients in the goat milk soap.

I heartily recommend Meadowfly Farm soaps both for personal use, and as thoughtful, useful gifts.

Please read this message to everyone from Che Sweetland:  Exceptional Products Through Compassionate Farming

Che Sweetland and her pet goats are very friendly and sociable.

Look at all the ways you can keep up with their news and antics online!

Meadowfly Farm’s Website

Etsy Store

Facebook 

Twitter

Pintrest

Coffee, as with wine, scotch and many other fine things has given rise to a great deal of lore intended to fuel the creation of connoisseurs.  For many, it is not enough to simply enjoy the simple pleasure of a hot cup of coffee, but one must consider, analyze, and most importantly, expound upon the relative virtues and deficiencies of every minute quality of the drink’s creation.  No detail of the life of the bean from its birth in the soil of some distant region to the temperature and pedigree of the water that eventually filters through its ground remnant is ignored.  Sizable amounts of money and time are spent in pursuit of the perfect storm of elements that will produce a cup coffee to make the angels weep.

As with many such things, I often find myself entertaining the suspicion that a desire to make oneself appear superior and cultured is more at the root of these pursuits than is the ability to truly appreciate such minutiae of experience.  There is no denying that we have large commercial enterprises that market this message to us.  They are selling a superior product, and if we are willing to pay for it, we too can be superior.  We can lead superior lives and feel quite satisfied with the knowledge that we are of more refined tastes than the riffraff that slurp their swill from cups not adorned with mermaids.

If that makes you happy, then great.  I will always be more dilettante than connoisseur, but I understand the desire to seek out products and experiences that are a little less common.  I will not deny that there are differences in quality and flavors between beans, and that different preparation techniques will produce different results.  Explore, experiment, and find what you like.  Enjoy your passions and share them with others.  But don’t get so wrapped up with the fact that this particular coffee bean was handpicked by virgin nuns under a full moon and hand ground by Burmese Monks using rare volcanic grinding stones that you miss the whole point of the stuff.

The flavor of a good cup of coffee is a wonderful thing.  Yet, in all my fond memories of drinking coffee, the taste or variety of it rarely stands in the foreground of my mind.  I remember instead the bright eyes of the woman across the table from me as we shared our first cup of coffee, and our first real conversation.  I remember the warmth in those same eyes as years later she brings me a hot cup to banish the chill as I come in from shoveling snow in a harsh Maine winter.  I remember the camaraderie formed working late nights and early mornings in server rooms where great quantities of bitter, bitter brew was the fuel that kept us working until the job was done.  And I remember quiet moments of contemplation when I sat alone sipping something scalding and dark brought forth from the glowing embers of a campfire.  In those moments, coffee was something that enhanced my experience, not the experience itself.  Those experiences, shared or solo, will always hold more value f  or me than the mere contents of a cup, no matter how fine.

It is a good thing to enjoy the finer things in life, but a fine life to enjoy is better still.

Jason Dozier

Illustration: Café, St. Germain des Pres 12×12 Art Print - Buy From Art.com

JinJu Chocolates 16 pc. Akoya Collection

I recently received a 16-piece box of chocolates from JinJu Chocolates. While I would have no problem whatsoever enjoying the entire box myself (in one sitting!), I decided that two opinions are better than one, and so I invited Ken (Mister CocoaJava) to sample these little treasures with me. Here are our impressions of JinJu’s Akoya Collection, which was described to us as “Bonbons in a refreshing combination of flavors including berries, citrus, passion fruit and Tahitian vanilla bean.”

The chocolates are created by Chef Jin Caldwell, the founder of JinJu Chocolates and one of the United State’s top chocolatiers.

Vanilla Dream
“Tahitian vanilla bean infused caramel blended with Swiss milk chocolate, in dark chocolate”

I found this a pleasant enough morsel, although the delicious caramel tended to overtake the vanilla. This was my first taste of JinJu chocolates; this bite reminded me that caramel does not have to be a jaw-wrenching ordeal. Caramel can be very smooth, creamy and light.

Ken found the chocolate shell to be crisp and fun, but also thought the vanilla took a backseat to the caramel. Overall he proclaimed it to be a pleasant little chokkie.

Lemon White Chocolate
“Lemon infused white chocolate ganache in creamy white chocolate”

The lemon flavor starts light, but grows gently in the mouth as the candy is enjoyed, but it never becomes too lemony. The textures throughout this chocolate are absolutely perfect, and the ideal accompaniment to the delicate flavor. The aftertaste is also quite good.

Ken enjoyed the creamy white chocolate, proclaiming it to be have very good body. Many creamy chocolates have a ‘runny’ center, but this one, does not. He loved how the flavor grew and grew. He’s decided this is one of his favorite of JinJu’s confections.

Berry Mascarpone
“Summer berry jelly layered with mascarpone creme ganache in Swiss milk chocolate”

This is the standout chocolate in the box. I loved the balance of flavors. The berry filling merged perfectly with the chocolate. The only drawback was that there were not more of this flavor in the box, or I would have kept right on eating them!

Ken enjoyed this chocolate immensely, too. He felt it had a good balance of great flavors and textures. The cream is smooth. The chocolate is excellent. He was also heard to say, “the berry really punches out!”

Key Lime
“Fresh key lime juice and zest blended with white chocolate, in dark chocolate”

It’s a very pretty morsel. the crisp chocolate shell contrasts nicely with the smooth caramel.  However, the actual lime flavor was not as intense as I would have preferred.

Ken said the caramel flavor at first completely overwhelmed the key lime, but that the second bite allowed the key lime to finally sneak through. A bit disappointing as key lime is one of his favorite flavors.

Tropical Fruit
“Passion fruit and mango with a hint of vanilla, in milk chocolate”

This is an unusual flavor combination, but one my tongue became very interested in right away! It’s one of those tastes that takes a moment to fully bloom. As with all the JinJu chocolates we tasted today, the center was delightfully creamy and the shell had a delicate snap when bitten.

Ken enjoyed this one as well.  He said the fruit flavors were very unique and grew nicely, with an excellent aftertaste.

Please visit JinJu Chocolates to learn more about all their chocolate collections – and don’t miss the beautiful chocolate jewelry! 

I confess. I’m addicted.

When I wake up in the morning, the first thing I do is sniff the air, hoping to catch a whiff of the coffee that brewed itself for me ten minutes before I woke up.

Whoever invented the self-timing coffee pot – thank you.

I stagger to the kitchen and set out two cups, one for me, one for my wife. Roomy, capacious cups that can swallow half a pot into their porcelain depths. I measure in the Splenda, one teaspoonful for my wife, three for myself.

Yes, I like my coffee sweet. Some might even say syrupy. But no whitener, please. Ironic it may be, but I despise creamer (check the name, bucko).

After the spoon swirls, mixing the rich Columbian and the Splenda, I have a dark, sweet caffeinated confection, the perfect mug of joe, the Angelina Jolie cup of coffee: rich and full-bodied.

Nothing is quite as sweet as that first sip. Nothing is quite as warm as that mug against my hands. Though many, many more cups will follow this one each day, that first sip, that very first cup, is special.

And so are the other dozen I’ll have that day.

That’s right. Dozen. That’s an estimate, of course. I honestly don’t know how many cups of coffee I slug down each day. I don’t count — I drink. But twelve is as fair a guess as any, even if it does likely err on the side of caution. By the end of the day, I’m so hopped up on caffeine that my eyes glow like the hound of the Baskervilles. My body twitches with a speed that makes hummingbirds gape.

When did my addiction start? Like most addicts, I remember my first, forbidden sip. My grandfather’s Masonic mug sat on the table beside his La-Z-Boy recliner, wisps of steam rising from the black water. The smell was exotic, intoxicating. No one was around. Grandad had stepped into the kitchen to grab a Krispy Kreme before the wrestling matches continued on TV. My chance had come.

I raised the cup to my lips and took a deep, long draught.

The world turned. The coffee poured — no, danced – over my tongue, swam down my throat, hit the passing lane into my stomach, then took the off-ramp to my cerebral cortex. The jolt was like nothing I’d ever felt before.

After this, I was doomed. There was no going back.

Soon, like the other teenage addicts, I was stealing my parents’ coffee, slipping away behind the barn for a forbidden sip, meeting behind the gym at school with the other caffeine-sodden ne’er-do-wells who would bum mugs of java off each other while standing with twitching fingers in smoky clouds of coffee-steam, never getting enough, itching for the next cup.

High school ended, and college came and went, a four-year blur of coffee houses and mall bagel shops. By then, I’d done ‘em all — Maxwell House, Folger’s, Millstone, Green Mountain, the specialty blends, the exotic, the domestic. Coffee was my albatross. I was a slave to the demon bean.

Today, I accept my addiction. Who am I kidding — I embrace it. I greet each mug of coffee with the enthusiasm of young love, and I protect each cup with the fierce devotion of the mother wolf.

Still, my message to the youth of today is a simple one: beware of coffee. She is a harsh mistress. Yes, she gives warmth, life, vigor, and purpose. But she demands her tribute, too. Your wallet will drain into the coffers of the Starbucks empire. As you drain each cup, you will pursue the next with the zeal of Galahad grasping for the grail.

Yes, the demon bean will claim your soul, as it claimed mine years ago.

But then, isn’t that a small price to pay for true love?

***

I’m sure you’ve heard about internet chatwindows. And most of you probably have a notion that AOL Instant Messenger and other similar systems are simply the haven of young, single folk determined to flirt outrageously and massacre the English language OMG U have 2 be kidding me LOL!

I won’t deny that this goes on (and I won’t deny my own occasional silly chats either!) but I thought you might enjoy seeing another side of the magic of internet chats. Meet Jen, aka Jenlittlebottom, a friend of mine in England. Last night we got to chatting, and considering that it was very early in the morning for her, and quite late at night for me, I think we still managed a good sense of coherency. This particular chat was so laden with talk of coffee and coffee recipes, I thought it would be fun to sort it out a bit and let you in on some of the recipes and resources we talked about.

Jenlittlebottom: Anyway, I have a book I bought in advance for my mum’s birthday. It’s called ‘Larousse Gastronomique’. It’s the first French encylopedia of cooking that was ever translated into English. And I’m just going to check what they suggest you do with chocolate. *G*

CocoaJava: Oh baby! *adores* You’re my British Field Researcher.

Jenlittlebottom: Book: *falls open at coffee page* Or not. *reads* Oooh, Bourbon creole coffee!

CocoaJava: O.o I’ll take a double! Recipe to share?

Jenlittlebottom: *reads it* is confusing. oh, okay.

CocoaJava: Confusing recipes are fun in their own right.

Creole Coffee

Creole coffee must be strong and fragrant. 15 grams, or one heaped tablespoonful of ground coffee should be used per cup. Put into the filter as many spoonfuls of coffee as you want cups, press down well and proceed in the following manner: Put your filter into a bain-marie (which must not be boiling) just to keep the coffee hot. Keep some boiling water in a separate receptacle especially for this purpose. First steep the coffee thoroughly, then, little by little, add a tablespoonful of water. Let it drip trough until you have obtained the required amount of coffee. Serve very hot in a coffee pot whic has previously been scalded. The preparation of creole coffee takes over an hour.

CocoaJava: Not a good recipe for anyone needing a caffiene fix NOW.

Jenlittlebottom: hee.Bah, this not so good. Let me check some other books.

Jenlittlebottom: I’ll retrieve my 1927 Confectioners cookbook next time I’m in London. How about ‘Coffee Milk (for the sick-room)’? This is from ‘Enquire Within About Everything’. Item 2077.

Coffee Milk (For the Sick-Room)

Boil a dessertspoonful of ground coffee, in nearly a pint of milk, a quarter of an hour, then put into it a shaving or two of isinglass, and clear it; let it boil a few minutes, and set it by the side of the fire to clarifty. This is a very fine breakfast, but it should be sweetened with sugar of a good quality. (isinglass = gelatine)

CocoaJava: (thanky. English words can baffle us Americanos.)

Jenlittlebottom: (is sort of antiquey. I looked it up. it’s particularly a type of gelatine gotten from fish or something)

CocoaJava: When I was a kid, I would BEG my dad to slop some of his black coffee into my milk glass. As I got older, the ratio of milk vs. coffee slowly changed. Now I’m on straight black coffee, no milk, no sugar.

Jenlittlebottom: *eyes piles of books* now, let me see…bwhaha!

CocoaJava: *clicks*

CocoaJava: Excellent! I like that they have a scan of the book.

Jenlittlebottom: do you want ‘coffee as a disinfectant’?

CocoaJava: O.o HELL YES.

1668. Coffee as a Disinfectant

Numerous experiments with roasted coffee prove that it is the most powerful means, not only of rendering animal and vegetable effluvia innocuous, but of actually destroying them. A room in which meat in an advanced degree of decomposition had been kept for some time, was instantly deprived of all smell on an open coffee-roaster being carried through it, containing a pound of coffee newly roasted. In another room, exposed to the effluvium occasioned by clearing out of the dung-pit, so that sulphurette hydrogen and ammonia in great quantities could be chemically detected, the stench was completely removed, in half a minute, on the employment of three ounces of fresh-roasted coffee, whilst the other parts of the house were permannetly cleared of the same smell by being simply traversed with the coffee-roaster, although the cleansing of the dung-pit continued for several hours after.

CocoaJava: Actually… that makes *sense* – I do have a tip somewhere in my site to leave used coffee grounds out to air dry, and then they can be set in a closed closet or funky place to help draw the musty smell out. Though, I have never attempted to clean a dung pit. Ew.

Jenlittlebottom: The best mode of using the coffee as a disinfectant is to dry the raw bean, pound it in a mortar, and then roast the powder on a moderately heated iron plate, until it assumes a dark brown tint, when it is fit for use. Then sprinkle it in sinks or cesspools, or lay it on a plate in the room which you wish to have purified. Coffee acid or coffee oil acts more readily in minute quantities.

Jenlittlebottom: you should play with Gutenberg. I bet Mrs. Beeton has some info about coffee.

Jenlittlebottom: oooh! Coffee Jelly!

Jenlittlebottom: Actually, I’ve seen coffee flavoured jelly at the Thai place down the road from my parents. *G*

CocoaJava: I’ve never had it! But I’ve made fun jelly. I’d try it! I’ve made dandelion jelly, Queen Anne’s lace jelly.

CocoaJava: What does coffee jelly GO on?

Jenlittlebottom: Not that sort of jelly, you crazed yank. It doesn’t go on anything. It probably goes nicely with a side of vanilla icecream, though.

CocoaJava: Well hmm. Is that more like syrup, then?

Jenlittlebottom: No. it’s a dessert. it doesn’t go in a jar. Jam goes in jars. It doesn’t go on stuff.

CocoaJava: Jelly goes in jars too – at least over here. It’s exactly like jam, but with no seeds or fruit pulp. *but rather likes being called a crazed yank anyway*

Jenlittlebottom: That stuff is not proper jelly. It’s just jam with all the good bits taken out.

CocoaJava: I apparently am a heathen! MY jelly is perfection. It looks like the glow of a stained glass window.

Jenlittlebottom: but surely it goes in a mould?

Coffee Jelly

(Sufficient to Serve Six)

* 2 c. clear, strong coffee
* 1/2 oz. or 2-1/4 Tb. unflavored gelatine
* 1/2 c. cold water
* 1 c. boiling water
* Three-quarters c. sugar

Prepare the coffee freshly and make it stronger than that which would ordinarily be used for the table. Be sure that it contains no grounds. Soak the gelatine in the cold water, and dissolve in the boiling water. Add the sugar and coffee. Pour into moistened molds and allow to cool. Serve with sweetened whipped cream.

CocoaJava: THAT is Coffee JELL-O. By my crazed yank definition. Definitely different. And yes, that is a Jell-O mold. My mom had a dozen of those hanging on her kitchen wall when I was a kid.

Jenlittlebottom: JELLY.

Jenlittlebottom: ooo, wait, my Henley’s Formulas for Home and Workshop has lots of coffee recipes!

CocoaJava: *adores you*

Jenlittlebottom: I always forget this one has food.

CocoaJava: Well, some ‘food’ is debatable as such.

Coffee Cocktail

1 ounce coffee syrup, One egg, 1 ounce port wine, 2 drachms brandy. Shake, strain into a small glass, and add soda. Mace on top.

Coffee Nogg

Coffee syrup, 2 ounces, Brandy, 4 drachms, Cream, 2 ounces, 1 egg. (prepared as above.)

Jenlittlebottom: I’m suspicious about the addition of soda, personally.

CocoaJava: Soda is just for bubbles and fizz. Can be plain soda, no flavoring.

Jenlittlebottom: Yes, but to anything containing egg?

CocoaJava: Egg cream! Which is an American invention. Hmm. Actually it contains no eggs, and no cream. Chocolate syrup, SODA for fizz, sugar, I forget what else. It’s like Boston Cream Pie. Which is NOT from Boston, is not a pie (it’s a cake) and contains pudding, not cream.

Jenlittlebottom: Ha! sounds like the above but with chocolate instead of coffee. They’ve just taken out the egg, the cream, and the brandy.

CocoaJava: The Ultimate Substitution!!!!!!!

Jenlittlebottom: Brisket in Coffee-Barbecue Sauce - I did once attend a Chocolate Dinner at one of the colleges which had chocolate in all the courses. So the main was Chicken with Chocolate and Chilli sauce.

CocoaJava: Chili sauce BENEFITS from chocolate. I add it to my chili and beans and nummy nummy!!!!!

Jenlittlebottom: Oh dear lord there’s more.

CocoaJava: Hmm. I might try that brisket sauce…. on SOMETHING ELSE. Brisket is icky.

America is hooked on coffee. In fact, it is the second largest commodity in America. This demand has created a need for more coffee shop franchises, and right now the coffee shops can’t keep up with that demand. If you are ready to own your own business and control your own life then read more about some of the coffee franchise opportunity ideas available to enterprising entrepreneurs.

Coffee shop franchises are perfect for investors that are not yet prepared to work full time. There are several options for those interested in buying a coffee franchise like running a coffee kiosk business on the weekends and at night. A small coffee shop or cart can also be managed by one or two people so that the owner can still continue with other jobs or projects. Once the business is well established the coffee franchise owner can work full time or start up new locations. Your options become endless as you can accomplish wonderful things as the owner of a specialty coffee franchise.

An advantage to owning a franchise, like a coffee franchise, is that the franchise business owner gets help from the franchise company. If you are a person that likes to do things on your own you may be inclined to start a business from the ground floor up, but you have to do everything by yourself. Where will you find materials for your shop? What about employees? Questions concerning funds and other questions are answered by reputable franchising opportunities. When you start your own business for yourself the failure rate is higher, but when you buy a franchise the chances of success are better.

Though virtually all opportunities in franching are of high quality, some are not, so the franchise entrepreneur must know a great deal about each franchise on the list of finals. Strict rules control franchising opportunities and it is important to scan through the franchising rules on the FTC website. Another good idea is to talk to current owners of the coffee franchise and ask them about the pros and cons of working with the franchise. If the franchise owners are getting the support required to run a good business then the franchise owner will be happy and they will let you know it. If the franchise company is doing a poor job, the franchise owner will make it clear.

More folks are finding coffee each day. This is the best period in history to invest in a specialty coffee franchise. There are a lot of franchise directory websites that have information on some of the finest coffee house franchise investments that you can buy. Review this list of franchise business companies, and when you have a good list of your favorites take time to research each of them. When you have picked out your favorite you can begin a new life as the owner of a successful coffee franchise.

When I’m holding a generous cup of fresh cappuccino in my hands, inhaling its fragrance and absorbing its warmth, it’s difficult to believe that scarcely a year before I was not merely ignorant of, but indifferent to the vast world of coffee culture.

My first experiences with coffee were not very auspicious. Working long shifts at a busy Asian restaurant and grocery taxed my stamina as well as my language-juggling skills. Finally I succumbed to the black demon and initiated myself into the gritty underbelly of the coffee consumption world, with twelve ounces of heavily sugar- and milk-laced Folger’s in a styrofoam cup.

This eventually became a necessary ritual to commence the day’s work. At that point, I didn’t relish the taste at all. I did all that I could to make it taste just like cream and sugar, rather than actual coffee. The coffee was a caffeinated afterthought I unenthusiastically I was compelled to include in order to feel properly alive in the morning. It was a means to an end, and that end was the alertness and cheer to carry through with friendly customer service. I had to be careful, though – a sip over a single cup and I’d be jittering as I handed back the customer’s change. My body was developing a love-hate relationship with coffee; it would be cantankerous if I gave it too much, but equally sullen if I neglected to start the day with at least a cup.

I had gone into the job regarding a coffee pot as an entirely foreign machine. We had one at home, but I had never used it or cared to observe the set-up process. After deciding I could no longer wait in the mornings for some benevolent co-worker to put on the first pot, I asked to be shown how to initiate the brew. Henceforth, I was the morning coffee girl. My adoption of this ‘chore’ seemed to elevate me in the eyes of my co-workers, and despite my merely begrudging reliance on the devil’s brew, I somehow managed to make “the best coffee” out of our handful of staff members, according to every one of them. Perhaps this was a sign of good things to come. Coffee could yet be my friend. It loved me, so why couldn’t I love it?

The relationship would blossom in a way that brings to mind the old love stories of the Victorian age. It was a marriage made out of necessity, begun with indifference and even a spot of animosity. But, over time, I warmed to coffee and ceased to deride the deliciously addictive stimulant. I would acquire the taste of it, and enjoy it for what it was beyond a wake-up call.

I began to love it in my first year of University. With time to spare before my first class began, and a state of mental alertness that left something to be desired, I began to gravitate towards one of the java outlets on campus. The cute barista boys certainly helped in my decision to make a habit of my morning visits, but the delicious mochas they served settled the issue. I quickly began to look forward to that heavenly blend of espresso and chocolate not only for the perk it gave me, but the flavour and the visual appeal of the chocolate patterns woven into the light froth at the top. Even when handed to me in a convenient to-go cup wreathed in a recycled paper sleeve, it became a sense experience to quietly savour. Especially when the mornings were still chilly in early autumn, the added warmth was a boon, and a cosy luxury when strolling the campus en route to a lecture.

It brightened my mind, my mood, and my spirits with each sip.

From indifference to enjoyment I then progressed to curiosity. I awoke to the thriving network of cafés all throughout my city, and made it my personal mission to discover what each could offer. The coffee language started making sense to my brain, and my tastes began to broaden. From the typical mocha touted by women everywhere, I progressed to the cappuccino, with a few forays into latte land and some shots-in-the-dark. I’ve found the cappuccino remains my mainstay, elegantly simple and enjoyable as it is, no matter the venue. I love the way that the sprinkled nutmeg assassinates the froth, digging pores into its smooth surface before my successive sips make it disappear entirely over time.

Unlike the airy foam on a cappuccino, I know that my love for coffee will not disappear. The history behind the purest incarnation of the beverage is as rich as espresso itself, and the diversity of the coffee bean’s product will similarly thrill my mind while my tongue is engaged in tasting. The multitude of machines and trade secrets elevates it to a level of connoisseurship on par with that of the wine industry. Lauded by musicians, poets, royalty, and the humblest of working men and women, coffee is a love affair not only for the individual, but for the masses throughout the ages. I’m happy to have the veil lifted at last, so I can now see and taste and enjoy all of what I’d previously missed.

They say that some things simply can’t be translated. The subtle nuances of a language cannot be learned by text alone –oh no- they must be stumbled over in real, embarrassing life. I learned this in Greece, while chasing a dream of the perfect cup of coffee.

It was a difficult time. I don’t know how I made it through, to be quite honest. I began with Greek coffee, and quickly dismissed it as out of my character. The tiny cups, half-filled with undrinkable sludge marked my initiation into the world of Greek caffeine. While I admired the cute little pot in which it is brewed, I simply couldn’t bring myself to enjoy the drink. I took large, American-sized gulps, and always choked on grounds.

“Slowly, slowly,” my Greek companions instructed. “Don’t gulp. When you hit the grounds, stop.”

I couldn’t grasp the delicacy of the experience. What’s even worse: I wanted milk. No sugar, just milk. Impossible!

The next step was to try the ubiquitous “Frappe.” It sounded like something you might find at Starbucks, and so after a week of tiny-cup torture I decided to give it a try. The Frappe is cold, mind you. It was hot outside though, so I gave it a shot one afternoon.

Ack!

Made with Nescafe, the Frappe was unbelievably, chemically bitter. Of course the Greeks modify bitterness by adding copious amounts of sugar until the result is something akin to instant-coffee candy. At least you can get it with milk.

Onward I charged toward the next attempt. I ordered a cappuccino. It was okay. The French have made their mark across Europe, and Greece is no exception. You can get a decent cappuccino.

But what about my milk? I whined to anyone who would listen. I want Café au Lait!

I tried to explain what I wanted, both to waiters and friends. It just HAD to be possible, I argued. A bit of Espresso, topped not with foam but with MILK. Preferably steamed, but we can just start out simple…

It got to the point where I decided to schlep a Moka Pot across the Atlantic for those biannual trips to Greece. If nothing else, I would make Espresso with hot milk by myself. I did just that for quite sometime.

Now I’ll tell you: I have been studying Greek for quite some time, and feel like I can communicate and get around just fine, thank you. I never would imagine that something as simple as communicating the concept of a “latte” could be so arduous. But indeed, my friends, it was. The handful of painful endeavors went something like this:

(Translated from Greek)

“I would like a Latte”

*insert brilliant smile and nod, as I silently pray that they understand*

“Cappuccino?” The waiter would ask, head tilted in the standard “you fucking American” posture.

“noooooo… LAH-TAY… that is to say: espresso with MILK!” I would enunciate in my clear, kindergarten Greek.

“Frappe?”

Jesus H. Christ.

My head shaking vigorously… NOOOOOOO…

Well, I am pleased to relate that I discovered the key, finally. The morning dawned with a brilliance so dumbfoundingly perfect that even Lawrence Durrell himself could not have fitted it into the appropriate brackets of English prose. It was the beginning of Holy Week, and townsfolk on the island of Corfu were giddy with romance, white linen clothing, and the river of tourist Euros flowing steadily into their pockets.

My companion and I strolled leisurely down the “Liston” which is that island’s version of the Rue de Rivoli… a sort of promenade for the beautiful… and the would-be.

We stopped at a café, and settled in for the duration of the days events. I gave my final, and half-hearted attempt at ordering something latte-esque. The waiter was confused. I looked across the table at my companion, and gave a shrug of defeat. Fuck it.

“A cappuccino” I waved at the waiter with a sigh.

“Me AFRO GALO” my friend called, suddenly, and beamed triumphantly.

“Me WHAT?” I asked, annoyed. I knew the words “me” (with) and “galo” (milk) but this “afro” thing confused me.

“I GOT IT!!!” He beamed with pride.

“What????”

“With FROTHED milk!” He nearly shouted. A German family at the next table glanced nervously towards us… ostensibly concerned that this shouting Greek man might begin slapping me soon.

A smile cracked across my face.

“Frothed….” I mused for a moment, “you asshole… you’re GREEK, why didn’t you TELL ME HOW TO SAY THAT?????????”

The German family found a different table, across the promenade from us.

The waiter brought my latte.

I smiled.

It was exquisite.