We all have stories. And as coffee drinkers, we have our coffee stories. As a young boy, this is my coffee story, it is where coffee was discovered for me.
This is where coffee was discovered for me.
My mother drank coffee, my grandmother drank coffee and one of my favorite aunts drank coffee. Growing up, there was coffee in the house. But where was coffee discovered for me? Where did I really get introduced to coffee? What was my first memory of the taste of coffee?
Thought it was in my home for as long as I can remember, it was not until I was around eight years old that I had my first taste of the aromatic black liquid. Don’t think for one minute that I automatically fell in love with black coffee. Far from it.
The first taste of coffee.
I can remember it was called soaky coffee. I can remember my mother and aunt making this simple coffee recipe and they really seemed to enjoy it. And why not. Who doesn’t love biscuits, and sugar. Especially a young boy with a bit of a sweet tooth.
We were visiting my aunt one summer and yes, there was soaky. It’s a simple recipe where you take a biscuit, break it in half, sprinkle a spoonful of sugar on it, then pour freshly brewed black coffee over it. As the sugar dissolved, soaking into the biscuit, I can remember staring at the one my mother had just made for herself. I had to have some.
Since coffee would stunt your growth, an old wives tale, I had never tasted it before. After a bit of persuading, uh I mean begging, she let me taste it. Okay, now I was hooked. Soaky biscuit was about the best thing I had ever tasted other than maybe a slow-poke sucker.
That is where coffee was discovered for me. This was my first memory of coffee but it didn’t stop there.
Coffee on the Stove Top
Where was coffee discovered? That's another story but for me, this is another place where I discovered it.
My grandmother was one of those ladies that always had food on the back of the stove and on the table. It didn’t matter what time of day it was, there was always something to eat.
As well as I remember that, one of my fondest memories of her kitchen was the coffee on the stove top. Though it was over fifty years ago, I still remember her coffee pot. There was no such thing as a single cup coffee maker back then.
Her coffee pot was one of the old aluminum types, the stove top percolator. I can remember all the parts it took to make a pot of coffee. There was the pot itself where you filled it with water. The stem as a part that you placed in the bottom that allowed boiling water to rise through.
Then there was the coffee filter. An aluminum strainer basicly. My grandmother would fill it with coffee grounds. No measuring, just fill it up. Talk about strong looking and smelling coffee, you could almost stand your spoon up on a cup of it.
The strainer, full of coffee grounds would slip over the stem and it all seated together inside the pot. The lid was then put on the pot and the percolator was set on the back burner of the stove. It was a gas stove so it got hot! She always had a box of wooden matches to light the burner.
As it started to boil, the water was forced up the stem, into the little glass indicator on top of the pot, then it poured over onto the ground coffee in the strainer. Note: there was no indicator as to how strong the coffee was nor was there a timer. Just boil it till it was black. Really black and strong.
That’s how my grandma made coffee. Did I ever drink any of her coffee? Let me just say, no!
And there was the campfire coffee that my dad and a few of his buddies would drink when we would go fishing. My job was to cut up the bait. I won’t give you details on this as it was a stinky, messy job. Catfish love stinky type bates.
But the coffee, it was pretty simple. My dad had a big campfire coffee pot, not strainer, no filter just a big pot. He would fill it about half way then pour in some ground coffee. Straight into the boiling water.
After a few minutes of boiling, it would have to sit for several minutes to allow the grounds to settle. But not all of them did. I only tasted this coffee a couple of times and just couldn’t get past the grounds floating around in my cup. But the grown ups seemed to enjoy this campfire coffee.
What about the fishing? We would usually catch a big mess of catfish that we would clean and cook right along side the boiling pot of campfire coffee. It was some fun times.
I don’t like cold coffee.
Another fond memory I have of coffee was during a sad time. My other grandmother, not the one who boiled it on the stove, was near death. She was 99 and lived a good life.
But a week or so before she passed, I was visiting her in the nursing home. My uncle was there. She asked for a cup of coffee without ever opening her eyes. So my uncle made her a cup, but he thought it was too hot for her to drink.
After making her cup of coffee, he put a couple of ice cubes in another cup, poured the hot coffee over it then back into her cup. Then he handed it to her. I’ll always remember her words.
“I don’t like cold coffee.” Without opening her eyes, she had tasted the coffee then uttered those words. My uncle looked at me, he was her second child, and said, “well, I guess she told me.”
I find it ironic that those were the last words I heard her speak and now here I am running a coffee blog. Funny how things sometime just come together.
Where was coffee discovered?
For me, it was back over five decades ago. These are just a few of my coffee memories that I wanted to share with you here.
Now in case you are wondering, I didn’t really start drinking coffee with any regularity until I was well into my adult years. Then I found myself one day really enjoying a cup which got me to thinking about it as a topic for a blog.
Even though there are gobs of coffee blogs, I wanted to start one with a bit of a different twist. I wanted it to be more about the stories, the memories, and the enjoyment of coffee and life.
That being said, that’s where it is today. Now I do have a couple of other interests on the blog, but mostly, it’s about filling your cup with good coffee and your few moments of reading with enjoyment.
As I always say, coffee is not meant to be analyzed to pieces, it’s meant to be enjoyed.
Before you go, I want to invite you to subscribe to The Morning Coffee Cup. You just may find the answer to where coffee was discovered, but for certain you will be able to enjoy more coffee stories.
Do you have a coffee story you would like to share? If you do, comment below. I would love to hear from you.
Welcome to The Morning Coffee Cup where coffee, marketing & topics of life fill your cup. I think it's awesome you are here. As for me, I wear blue-jeans & t-shirts, drink coffee of course and enjoy every moment I can with my grandkids. They are my heroes.
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