A decent four cups of coffee
This morning I decided to take action and make us some coffee rather than my normal ritual which is to ask J to make it, thus stroking his ego by telling him that he makes it so much better than I do. Which is true. And also a good way to get someone to make coffee for you.
This morning I really didn't do much better than that, though, because as I stood there in my bathrobe I asked J, just one more time, to please show me how he does such a good job of getting it strong enough, but not too strong, my problem when it comes to undertaking this seemingly simple process.
He got all business-like. And cocky.
"We've been over this," he said, but not annoyed - more like, proud, more like "Oh-I'll-show-you-you-unworthy-but-grateful-bottom-dweller. I'll show you my ultimate skills, which you'll never attain, by the way."
First he took the spoon I was holding right out of my hand.
"Not this one." He got another from the drawer. "This one."
He scooped an enormous amount of freshly-ground Verona blend from Starbucks into the spoon.
"That," he explained. "is too much."
Shook a lot back into the tupperware. "That? Too little."
"Just feel it out," he continued, and with that scooped what I now know is the perfect scoop size, Oh knowledgeable mentor!
After the required number of scoops were placed into the filter, he turned on the water.
"Cold water! Cold."
Since he was staring me down I felt the need to reply. "I never use hot," I offered. Reasoning wasn't provided, just the hardcore, definitive process. I was a fortunate spectator to watching God-given talent, THE talent, execute that process.
He showed me his scientific method for measuring the right amount of water, which surprisingly, involved some carefully-placed deviations from the regimen.
"See, about a cup. That's about right. Even if you're off the mark a little. It'll be fine."
After pouring it all in, he shut the lid with a final snap of the wrist. Click.
"Now you plug it in and just hit this button."
"Yeah, I know how to do that part."
"Yeah."
"Yeah."
This morning I really didn't do much better than that, though, because as I stood there in my bathrobe I asked J, just one more time, to please show me how he does such a good job of getting it strong enough, but not too strong, my problem when it comes to undertaking this seemingly simple process.
He got all business-like. And cocky.
"We've been over this," he said, but not annoyed - more like, proud, more like "Oh-I'll-show-you-you-unworthy-but-grateful-bottom-dweller. I'll show you my ultimate skills, which you'll never attain, by the way."
First he took the spoon I was holding right out of my hand.
"Not this one." He got another from the drawer. "This one."
He scooped an enormous amount of freshly-ground Verona blend from Starbucks into the spoon.
"That," he explained. "is too much."
Shook a lot back into the tupperware. "That? Too little."
"Just feel it out," he continued, and with that scooped what I now know is the perfect scoop size, Oh knowledgeable mentor!
After the required number of scoops were placed into the filter, he turned on the water.
"Cold water! Cold."
Since he was staring me down I felt the need to reply. "I never use hot," I offered. Reasoning wasn't provided, just the hardcore, definitive process. I was a fortunate spectator to watching God-given talent, THE talent, execute that process.
He showed me his scientific method for measuring the right amount of water, which surprisingly, involved some carefully-placed deviations from the regimen.
"See, about a cup. That's about right. Even if you're off the mark a little. It'll be fine."
After pouring it all in, he shut the lid with a final snap of the wrist. Click.
"Now you plug it in and just hit this button."
"Yeah, I know how to do that part."
"Yeah."
"Yeah."
posted by Cara Maria McDonough at 8:38 AM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home