First of all, I think I owe you a warning, as this post indeed lives up to the blog name, insignificant, after all, as it is. A mere result of thoughts going through my head as I brewed my latest pot of joe. The thing is, see, I do not much care for the once oh so exotic varieties that used to be popular up until ten years ago or so (granted, some even found them tremendously vanguardish even after that). After the caffè latte, mocca, macchiato and cortado wave subsided around le fin du siècle dernier, I grew a passion for basic, black, coffee machine ground and heavily dark-roasted coffee, just as it used to be before we went all continentally caffeinated.
These days I’m all Damn good coffee! And hot! As prescribed by federal wacko Cooper, who, by the way suffers an umpteenth re-run on Norwegian TV screens these days. Have I been watching? Yes, I have, even if the magic faded almost twenty years ago. I know, it’s actually quite scary, remembering how my now 20-year-old son, newborn at the time, slept in his room while we took in the slightly eccentric coffee junkie’s bizarre adventures. As usual I digress.
I never really had a fancy espresso machine, if we ignore the classic La Pavoni (more or less as depicted) my dad brought home some 30 years ago. I was 16 at the time, just about to experiment with grown-up habits, but never bothered to get one myself, save for a number of Bialetti stove-tops – and one designed by Philippe Starck, I believe. Nowadays they’re rarely put to good use, though.
Could it simply be that I’m growing old – acquiring old people’s coffee habits? I wouldn’t mind if that’s so. After all, it does look kind of silly, doesn’t it, with all these middle-aged execs running to and fro, Starbucks cup in hand. Nah… I think I’d rather age gracefully. I know how vain it must sound, but I wouldn’t like to be seen with the country’s leading pseudo-intellectual newspaper tucked under my arm (compulsory part of the package) either.
And I can’t believe it took me all this rubbish getting to the very point, the 3 November quintessential, as it were:
That I take my coffee damn good, hot and black as midnight on a moonless night – or as a 21st century American president.