Coffee
Tue., November 5, 10:30 AM
My mother always insisted that children drink milk. I hate milk. She believed in heating it so that we wouldn’t begin the day with something cold in our stomach. I really hate hot milk. “I’ll just take the chill off,” she would say. But – somehow – it was always hot enough to form a skin on the top. And that could be enough to make me throw up.
Strangely enough, I enjoy other dairy products. Cheeses, yogurt, sour cream, and ice cream, of course. On the other hand, I find orange juice fortified with calcium just as objectionable as milk.
We compromised. I would drink milk if it was not too warm and if she would let me put chocolate in it. The chocolate powder we used was something called Hemo with lots of vitamins added – think Ovaltine but tastier. Hemo was good summer and winter; it added about 150 calories to a glass of milk, but they weren’t what my mother called empty calories.
One morning there was a crisis! No Hemo! What could I do? “Put in a spoonful of instant coffee,” suggested my mother. A spoonful of coffee, one of sugar, a splash of boiling water to start it, and cold milk. (She didn’t make me put it on the stove because the boiling water warmed it – no skin!) Actually, it wasn’t half bad. I was drinking coffee regularly before the year was out – and in a few years more, I was drinking it without the milk. I see no purpose in spoiling perfectly good coffee by adding white stuff.
I’ve been drinking coffee for nearly fifty years now – with a little sweetener, no milk. Yes, I drink tea as well, and lots of water, both plain and carbonated… but coffee is the best. I was fortunate to marry a man who liked coffee as much as I do. (Can you completely trust someone who doesn’t like coffee or chocolate?) We aren’t coffee snobs – we don’t do latte, we don’t need Starbucks – but we always liked a good cup of coffee. Strangely enough, neither of us seems to be affected by caffeine. Husband would make a cup of coffee if he couldn’t sleep. (Yeah, my mom did that too.) I couldn’t even use NoDoz.
I can count on my fingers the periods of my life when I didn’t drink coffee. The first three months of any pregnancy, and the entirety of my third pregnancy. (Old wives’ tale says boys make you sicker; it was true for me.) After my gall bladder came out, the doctor said I could drink coffee when I wanted to, but it wasn’t appetizing until about six months later.
When Son was little, he went through a period of “I hate milk.” His doctor said it didn’t matter as long as he ate everything else, and he did. He even told the speech therapist at school about it – in detail – at which point she knew he had no problems even if he refused to say, “I love milk.” Son had a mother who empathized completely. I gave him sweetened decaf with lots of milk, because I didn’t always agree with Dr. Bob. As an adult, Son drinks his coffee black. Both daughters drink their coffee with cream. However, please note that all the kids are coffee hounds.
Over the years, I think Husband’s sense of taste is waning. When I had a coffee maker that would brew just one mug, I used to make my own coffee and leave the grinds; Husband would make his coffee from the same grinds. More recently, I’ve caught him watering down the coffee. He thinks it goes farther that way. (It’s the Depression mentality winning out over the taste buds.) So I made some rules.
The first rule is that he is not to touch our coffee. I told him that U.D. and I drink “gourmet coffee,” and we don’t want it diluted. After we get ours, I will brew Maxwell House for him. After one accidental cup of hazelnut, he decided he doesn't want ours.
He doesn’t know about the second rule, which is that the Maxwell House can is routinely filled from a hidden can of decaf. As I’ve said, caffeine never seemed to bother him, but he is a cardiac patient and there is no sense in putting any possible strain on his heart. When he continued watering down his coffee, I began using enough water for five cups with coffee for four cups. I have told him he doesn’t have to add water; I will make him more coffee whenever he wants it. It’s hard to believe this is the same man who used to brew a full pot of strong coffee and drink it all himself when I was pregnant.
Last time I caught him adding water, I told him “there are dopes, there are jackasses, and then there is you.” He insisted that the coffee tasted fine. This led to one of the funnier lines I’ve used that he never got.
He called through the bathroom door, “will you make more coffee?” “I will when I come out,” I replied, “I know you prefer piss, but I’m not giving you mine.” I don’t think he even heard me.
