A Coffee Affair
I grew up in a South Indian household. And that means unlike a regular alarm ringing, my wake up call came with Vishnu Sahasranamam or Ganapati Shlokam among many other tapes that my mother loves. That is one of the two morning rituals in my house. The second one is the sacred filter kaapi (coffee). My parents are ardent coffee drinkers. If truth be told, it would be criminal to be having conversation in my house without a cup of coffee in your system.
After the coffee, it is indeed a good morning.
My brother and I unconsciously decided to be rebels. We both don’t drink coffee. His staple breakfast even today is cereal and milk. And me? I’m a true blue bombay-ite. I drink chai. Not chai tea latte or dip tea but the original one brewed for a long time on a stove top. I even have my own tea cup which I don’t share with anyone. I live on chai. Every kind is lovely (except Matcha) even though a cutting has always been my favourite. I also try all the new fancy things– Oolong, White leaf, Earl Grey, Tamarind infusion, Chamomile, Loose leaf among others. I also discovered lifelong loves like the Kashmiri Kahwa. The saffron and almond flakes are things I live for.
I live in a house that smells of coffee, drinking tea like a cool cat.
My mother makes the best filter coffee. My friends all swear by it. Some even directly come home when I am not around. If there is one thing you must know about Ma, it is that her kitchen is always open. She is happiest feeding people. She will tell you the best stories over coffee and her South Indian snacks of Muruku and Thatai. And yet, I just could not get myself to bear a coffee cup. She always thought I would come around but gave up that idea after I turned 25. Maybe it is too late to fall in love with coffee? For me, coffee means a dessert like cold coffee or some fancy concoction you pay an arm and a leg for at a coffee shop. Or maybe Tiramisu.
Around then, I slowly started weaning of sugar. Now you will wonder what is life without cake? Hard but not impossible or terrible. And then, tea wasn’t exciting anymore. I suppose that old habits (palate) get in the way. So I needed something strong and switched to black coffee. Overnight.
Now I am an elitist. I have single origin coffees. I need a coffee with a double shot of espresso. And in moments of dire need– I have resorted to Starbucks because access. I also love a cold brew. Perhaps, I could swear by it? When people have mocha, I try not to judge. If I was honest, I could call myself a coffee snob. Who even knew?
And my favourite version of coffee? My mother’s filter. As mothers always know, I would have come around. She would say — Pavithra, you’re fighting the inevitable. Sometimes you grow up. And sometimes, life comes to a full circle.
My advice to you, would be to not contact me unless I have had a cup of coffee.
