Smell the roses. Smell the coffee. Whatever it is that makes you happy.
Rita Moreno
Today I made my first cup of winter coffee.
Coffee made by hand with water heated on my one burner campstove. The story doesn’t start there.
Yesterday I spent the afternoon putting tin cans and paper away. They were in garbage bags already. My office cats decided it would be fun to shred the bags and redistribute the contents all over the office.
I know, I should have taken them out sooner. I needed those cleaned up before I could pull my chair out so I could get to the one burner stove.
Next day, today. I needed to pump water from an 18 liter bottle to a 2 liter, then carry that up to the office.
I decided to clean all the equipment needed before using them. I hadn’t touched most of that since last winter.
I found every thing I needed, kettle, spoon, measuring cups for coffee, coffee, filters, wooden adapter ring for wide mouth cups, paper filters. After pouring water into the kettle, I screwed on a propane bottle, fired up the stove.
I waited for the right amount of steam to escape from the spout, it was my way of measuring temperature. Propane turned off and unscrewed from the stove.
Coffee grounds were measured then poured into the cone and paper filter. Water poured through. Powdered whole milk spooned in and stirred. It was ready.
I promised myself I would write this before I drank it. That just built up the anticipation. I knew if I drank coffee first no writing would happen.
I just had my first sip, it was great all things considered. The coffee was from January.
Tasted fantastic. Maybe because of all I had to do to make it or maybe just because I made it. Automatic coffee makers be damned.
I figured this was the right song. Btw I was born in Brasil.
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