Coffee: A writer's best friend

By Jessica Snapper

I am by no means a coffee connoisseur. When at home, I'll make myself a cup of Nescafe with a pellet of nutrasweet and drink it in my favorite mug in front of the laptop. In a restaurant or café, I'll usually ask for a tall glass of iced coffee. I try to drink nothing but water at the office, but I often give into my caffiene cravings when my energy is waning. I must admit that on particularly lazy days I'll take a free cup of joe from the decrepit machine in the corner of the office. As I sip the hot liquid, I can't help thinking that it tastes suspiciously similar to soap.

I know that my father would probably be dissapointed in my habits. As a kid, I remember Dad always making his own coffee in his special grinder that he named Master Joe. He would buy fresh beans in the morning and meticulously split them into separate piles for brewing. Then he would talk amiably to Master Joe about politics and science while he grinded away.

Now, it's about time I paid my proper tribute to the caffeine gods.


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