>>pk@columbia

3.26.02 - coffee

Coffee was off-limits to me as a child. My mother told me that it would have negative effects on my health because I had not yet fully grown. I knew coffee had a pleasant aroma to it and when my parents finished their daily share, I managed to secure myself the few drops they had neglected. Of course, these mere droplets hardly gave me an idea of what coffe was really like. Because coffee had to be made, it became a drink more elusive than alcohol, which I could easily access by opening the top cabinet in the kitchen. My rebellious urges had allowed me to get a slight buzz from my father's alcohol, but it had failed to bring the stimulated sensation of the bean-derived brown beverage.

Even as a seventeen-year old with driving privileges, I had yet to taste the full essence of coffee. Instead, I foolishly cherished the five dollar rip-off drinks from Starbucks and convinced myself that I was an avid coffee drinker. Mocha cappuccino, caramel frappuccino, or any other fancy sweet with an Italian title - these chic drinks made me feel grownup because I believed I drank coffee. Such memories serve greatly to my embarrassment.

Someone told me that the caffeine pill Vivarin, if taken too frequently, could burn a hole in the stomach. I had been a Vivarin taker since my high school junior year, but only for special occasions, such as my football games, SAT tests, and finals. Upon hearing of such dangers, I immediately stopped and relied on sleep to be my stimulant. I was then told that coffee did Vivarin's job with less harm because it came in a subtle, liquid form. One morning, as a high school senior, I stopped by a deli and picked up a seventy cent coffee with milk and sugar. Much to my surprise, my eyes widened when the caffeine kicked in and I was able to stay awake in my classes. I began to see why my English teacher sipped on a giant coffee-filled thermos all day.

In college, I drink coffee at least five days a week. I have found that reading dense text material is impossible without it. Now comes the entire point of this coffee eulogy, which I probably should have just stuck in the Passing section and saved myself the trouble of making coffee relevant in my past history: my favorite coffee is the one dollar large cup that I get at Pinnacle, a pizza place across the street from my school. It's best when the Korean owner makes it because he puts in a lot of sugar and milk. I can just chug the entire cup and I'm good to go for a night's worth of studying. When I can't manage to come up with a dollar, I usually opt for the coffee at Lerner Hall, either at 212 or Ferris. Ferris coffee is bothersome beacuse it is self-serve and no self-respecting Jersey boy would self-serve anything. So when I get myself a 212 coffee, I compensate quality for convenience. 212 coffee can be outright nasty. It has the burnt aftertaste that just makes the coffee drinking experience so bitter. And I definitely can't chug it, so I have to prolong the negative experience. Sometimes, it just makes me want to go and steal some money so I can get that Pinnacle cup. However, after much experimentation, I realized that I just needed to mask the nastiness of 212 coffee with heavy half-and-half and a lot of sugar. I used to use skim milk and about two packets of sugar, telling myself that I drank a healthy, low-fat coffee. But upon realizing that healthy coffee was an oxymoron, I filled my cup to the brim with half-and-half and loaded on six packets of sugar. Prognosis? Chuggable.

Yes, I do consider myself an avid coffee drinker, but not the one who cares for different kinds of beans or the freshness of the brew and definitely no more Starbucks. I may have silly pretensions of sitting at a coffee shop, dressed in dark-schemed Banana gear, reading a novel, and slowly sipping on a aromatic blend of French vanilla bean - but how snobby that seems when compared to the barefoot, sweatpant and t-shirt clad, heavy textbook toting, jittery, raccoon-eyed 30-second chugger that I most often see myself as? Coffee makes me feel cool not only because my parents drank it when I couldn't and I can drink it now, but also because I can have it the way I want it - cream til it's a yellow brown and enough sugar to make hot chocolate seem bitter.