Once upon a time, not so long ago…there were only two types of coffee.
One coffee, you made at home, or your wife, mother did. The second was what you’d have at a roadside coffee shop.
The typical coffee shop used to feature a fascinating presentation. Where the coffee maker was a man or a young boy who would quickly and with great accuracy, pour coffee from one glass to another, thereby raising a kind of a stormy, foamy brew. And one would sip the coffee with spoonfuls of leisure and mouthfuls of cigarette smoke.
I suppose the death knell for coffee sounded when someone invented Instant Coffee. Suddenly the whole filtration process, the meticulous crafting of coffee, from bean to chicory enhanced powder, became a rarity. And the dip-dip culture began to rule.
But if you thought that was the limit to the sacrilege, you were mistaken. The very outlet that defined coffee became the Now Generation Coffee Shop. Designed for the Mr. Fancy Pants. Catering to Ms. Page 3.
Served with great style and elan. Hot or cold. With or without cream or ice cream. With napkins and monogrammed crockery if you please.
And the ‘five-star’ coffee…it began to smell of vanilla, or caramel…or disrespect. Air Conditioning and Wi-Fi became measures of coffee excellence. And the single toileted Café Coffee Days became a hot spot for the young.
And when differentiation was called for, upgraded brands were concocted. Lavazza. The Lounge. Etc. Upgrading of blends took back seat.
Then the stars and stripes country attacked. With all the bucks at their command. And the remnants of the coffee culture just crumbled and died.
In a graveyard called Starbucks you can still see the vestiges of authentic coffee consumption. But they have been power packed into fancy mochas and cappuccinos. Sexified with whipped cream fantasies. And made naughty with double entendre galore of nuts and chocolate shavings.
How coffee has been submerged in the overwhelming flood of sandwiches and wraps; how it has been bundled with smoothies and sorbets…is a story without morals, indeed a story without any sense.
And the people regularly miss the wood for the trees. And the original coffee shop dies un-mourned.
But maybe there is hope.
